Caught, yeah. So fucking caught.
I’d wrap my hand in those copper curls, pull her head back until her body bows. I’d lick every inch of her, see if she tastes as sweet as she looks. Taste every part of her, feel her clench around my dick until I can’t hold back any more, and—
“Is that a tattoo?” Brylee asks, staring at my neck.
“Yeah.” My voice has gone kinda hoarse with all the filthy thoughts filling my head, and my dick is hardening inside my jeans. “Wanna see?”
“How big is it? Where…” She swallows, and my jeans tighten more. “Where does it end?”
How big. My thoughts become derailed again. “Big,” I grind out the word, and I swear her gaze dips to the tent I’m pitching in my pan
ts.
I’m pretty sure about that, because the blush on her cheeks deepens.
“I can’t go out with you, Riddick,” she says. “My body and soul belong to Ryan.”
I blink at her, her words making no sense. What the fuck? Also… “Who the hell’s Bryan?”
“Ryan.”
Candy is shaking her head and biting her lip not to laugh.
What am I missing here? “Ryan, whatever.”
“Ryan Dawson. He’s my soul mate.” Brylee’s gaze goes distant. “He’s so smart. And handsome. And sexy. I saw him at the gym the other day. He’s dreamy.”
“Bry…” Candy elbows Brylee in the ribs. “Get a hold of yourself. Why are you telling Riddick all this?”
Yeah, why? Jesus fuck.
“Just setting things straight,” Brylee says.
My hackles are rising. I’ve never been rejected before making an advance before. It’s a new low. “I didn’t ask you out, woman.”
“But you could have.”
I glance at Jet and Joel for help with this one. I mean… chicks. They are engaged to Candy, so they have more experience. I’ve never had a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend, for that matter.
But they both shake their heads. No help there.
Besides, she’s right. I could have asked her out.
Would have.
But there’s this fucking Ryan asshole who’s gotten her attention. Sounds like he has her wrapped around his little finger.
“So he’s your boyfriend?” I mutter, pissed off, and strangely, sharply disappointed. “Or not?”
“Not yet,” she clarifies, her eyes doing that distant-dreamy-in-love thing again. Her lashes flutter.
“Or maybe ever,” Candy stage-whispers. She looks partly amused, partly exasperated. “If Ryan has anything to say about it, apparently.”
I stare from one to the other, confused. Maybe it’s the booze. “You’re not together?”
“Together? They’ve never even talked,” Candy says, glancing at her friend. “Apart from Brylee asking him out and him refusing.”
“Candy!” Brylee doesn’t look embarrassed, or even repentant. Her eyes shine bright with some emotion I can’t name. “He has his reasons.”