Holy fucking shit, does she shriek. Bloodcurdling, ear piercing, and yet Lieutenant Johnson doesn’t give two shits.
No, he stands on guard in all his glory, begging me to let him give her the ol’ one-eyed salute, to ask her if she wants to play.
And Jesus fucking fuck, do I ever wanna play.
CHAPTER 9
WE SHOULD (NEVER) DO THAT AGAIN
JENNIE
I have questions.
What have I done to deserve the life I lead, particularly the one obnoxiously thrust into my face this past week? Why has this man in front of me seen me half-naked on multiple occasions? Why did my toy collection explode in his hands? Why did Indiana Bones slap him in the face? Why did I kiss my brother’s best friend?
Why did Garrett just absolutely catch me jilling off with a motherfucking vibrator while maybe or maybe not—to be determined—moaning his name?
“What are you doing in here?” I screech, leaping from the bed. “I didn’t say you could come in! You left! You were supposed to leave! I heard the door shut!”
“I-I-I—” His eyes ricochet between my lower half and my hand. “Holy fucking fuckballs.”
I jerk my shirt over my hips, hiding my stupid, traitorous vagina. My occupied hand is shaking violently—the rabbit’s turned all the way to ten—so I chuck that bad girl across the room.
Mistake number one. Now she’s vibrating excruciatingly loudly against the hardwood, jumping around, and Garrett can’t take his eyes off her.
I rush him, shoving his chest. He doesn’t move, aside from his head whipping back and forth between me and my toy. “Out! Get out! And you shouldn’t have kissed me!”
“I thought you wanted me to!” he screams back, face red as he comes back to life. “I misread the signs!”
“Then invest in some fucking reading glasses, hotshot!”
“I’m sorry!” Gripping my wrists, he yanks me into him. “Stop pushing me!”
“Stop yelling at me!”
“You yelled first!”
“You saw my vagina!”
“I saw your boobs two nights ago!” His eyes widen, lips mashing together. “Okay, that was the wrong thing to say. I’m sorry I saw your boobs. And your vagina. I already told you they’re nice boobs.” He gestures at my lower half and clears his throat. “And it’s a nice, uh…vagina.”
With a groan, I twirl out of his grasp, burying my scalding face in my hands. “Stop saying vagina, please.”
He shrugs. “Fine, you have a nice pussy.”
I whack him in the shoulder. “Garrett!”
“Ow! Christ, you’re violent.”
“That’s not what I meant!”
He flings his arms in the air. “News flash, sunshine! I almost never know what the fuck you mean!”
“Women aren’t that confusing!”
“No, but you are!” He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply. “Look, I wanted to apologize for kissing you. I was having a good time and got caught up in the moment.”
Okay, maybe I did too. Garrett is kind, easy to be with despite the awkwardness, and he makes all my hot spots light up like a glow stick. The man has somehow managed to flood my basement with only one kiss.
I’m chalking it up to the lack of intimacy and physical connection in my life.
“Apology accepted,” I tell him. “Now good night, Garrett.”
“Okay. But don’t be embarrassed. Everyone masturbates.”
“Right, but not everyone gets caught by a famous, sexy hockey player who happens to be one of her brother’s best friends.”
His eyes brighten. “You think I’m—” He stops himself, which is for the best. He thinks I’m violent, but he hasn’t truly seen violent yet. “I’ll leave.”
“Great.” I tug my shirt tighter around my ass, thighs rubbing, spreading my wetness as he turns his back on me. He’s tall and broad and he’s got the most phenomenal hockey butt, the kind you wanna grab two handfuls of and hold on to for dear life while he fucks you up against a wall.
Or whatever.
“Wait a second,” Garrett whispers, pausing. My heart thuds as he slowly spins, one finger up, seemingly lost in thought. Then his gaze zeros in on me, heated, playful, and entirely too dangerous as he takes one purposeful step in my direction, then another, and that heartbeat drops to the pit of my stomach. “You said my name.”
“I did not.” Totally did.
“Did too.”
“Didn’t.”
His eyes roll. “Garrett.” He drags his name out on a moan, head thrown back. He doesn’t have to grab his junk, but he does anyway, and I slink backward with each calculated step he takes in my direction. He looks like he’s about to make me his snack, and I’m not sure I’ll put up a fight.
I find a pillow and chuck it at his annoying, hot face for at least the twentieth time tonight. “You’re supposed to be shy, jerk!”
He deflects the pillow with a veiny forearm, and when he smacks me in the face with it, I gasp. “I’m not shy, Jennie! I’m just fucking terrified of you!”
“You sure look it!” I’m running out of space as he prowls toward me, and when I trip over my bag, Garrett grips a fistful of my shirt, keeping me on my feet. I have no idea where the timid, awkward boy has gone, replaced by some sort of alpha man, oozing sex and confidence, ready to take control.
And he still hasn’t let go of my shirt.
He throws a pointed look at the hot-pink rabbit still jumping around on the floor, though she’s losing power, dying fast. It’s the only toy I brought, and now I’m gonna have to use my fingers, and they sure as shit don’t vibrate. “Don’t you have someone to do that for you?”
I throw my shoulders back, judo-chopping his wrist to lose his grip. It doesn’t work. “I don’t need someone to do it for me. I do it myself just fine.”
“No? No boyfriend?”
“If I had a boyfriend, would I have kissed you?”
A slow smirk spreads. God, arrogance looks so hot on him. “So you admit you were an equal participant in that kiss.”
“I—” I point my nose toward the ceiling. “I admit nothing.”
“That’s too bad,” he purrs. “Remember when you told me I should work on saying what I’m thinking?” His grip on my shirt tightens, soft cotton slipping against my skin, revealing more of my body as he walks forward, pushing me backward. “I’m thinking I wanted to kiss you, and I’m thinking you wanted me to. I’m thinking you enjoyed the hell out of it, before you told yourself you shouldn’t, and then you got scared.”
I gasp when my back hits the wall. Garrett’s turquoise eyes fall to my lips.
“What’s the matter, Jennie? Where’s all that confidence gone? Nowhere to hide?”
I bite into my bottom lip to quell its quiver when Garrett slides one large hand along the edge of my jaw, angling my face toward his. His other hand lands on the edge of my thigh, fingertips blazing a forest fire along my skin as they trail up, up, toying with the hem of my shirt.
“I think you came up here to touch yourself while thinking about everything that could’ve happened if you hadn’t run, and I think…” His ragged breath dances across my lips, gaze searing. “I think I’d like to help you. I think you want me to help you.”
“Garrett,” I whimper, trembling as his lips ghost over mine.
“Yeah,” he whispers. “Just like that. That’s exactly how you sounded when you moaned my name.”
I lift my chin and lick my lips, eyelids fluttering closed as I wait.
And wait.
The heat of his body is replaced by the cool chill of rejection as he releases me, his smirk nothing short of smug pride when my eyes flip open, and he steps backward.
“I’d sure hate to misread the signs though. So if I’m right, if you want my help…” He skims a thumb across his rugged jawline, scraping the stubble that wasn’t there two days ago. “You’ll have to be explicitly clear.”