He rolls his eyes. They’re dark, unlike Riddick’s.
I prefer Riddick’s…
“With your plan,” he says. “I thought you wanted Ryan?”
“And?”
Jethro frowns. “You tell me. Candy says that Riddick answered your phone a few days ago. What was he doing at your place at five in the morning?”
Oh. I thought I’d heard the apartment phone ring, but only turned over and went back to sleep. I’m not at my best early in the morning, and we’d fallen asleep on the sofa, tangled up together.
Funny how an orgasm given to you by a man, as opposed to your own hand, can exhaust you so much.
My face warms up from the memory of that—of Riddick’s mouth moving over mine, his body pressing into me, his hard-on, the way he stroked himself, the way he came…
“Really, Brylee?” Candy is staring at me, a wide grin on her face. “You slept with Riddick?”
“Not exactly,” I say, choking on the words.
“Then what exactly?” Jet prods, frowning. “What are you doing with him, Brylee?”
“Why are you asking me all this?”
“He’s my cousin. He looked after me when I moved in with his parents like a big brother. His life hasn’t been easy. I don’t like the idea of you toying with him only to throw him away the moment Ryan fucking Prince bats his lashes at you.”
Riddick looked after Jethro when they were young. That fits with the impression I got from him. Strong, protective, with his past like a rock hanging around his neck. “Guys don’t bat their lashes like that.”
“You know what I mean.”
I shrug, and hope my confusion doesn’t show on my face. “Rid is an adult, Jet. And he knows about Ryan.”
Jet shakes his head. “Rid is falling for you. His heart is in your hands. It’s pretty damn fragile right now. You could break him if you’re not careful.”
He’s falling for me?
I look away, a sweet sting in my chest. I want to laugh and weep, because I wish I could swear I’ll stop thinking about Ryan and go out with Riddick.
I want to. I’m falling for Riddick, too. I can’t stop thinking about him.
Then why can’t I stop thinking about that arrogant asshole, Ryan, either? Something draws me to him, like the gleam of gold beneath the surface of the sea. The promise of something beautiful beneath the rust.
What am I going to do?
***
Well, I end up doing what I often do when I hit a wall:
I call my mom.
She’s watching TV when she answers the phone, at full volume, and she quickly lowers it. “Bry! What a nice surprise, baby girl.”
At least someone is happy to hear from me. “Hi, Mom! How are things?”
Immediately she launches into a full description of my cousin Ella’s wedding gown and how pretty she’s going to be, and that I should book my flight for the wedding now because I can’t miss this.
I make vague agreeing sounds.
My mom and cousin Ella live a couple hours flight from here, and although I’d like to go, I haven’t made up my mind yet. It’s in a few weeks. I still have time.