Page 27 of Wedding Bet

“Is everything okay?” Jamie asked, stark confusion in his eyes. “I—I thought we were having fun. It felt good, right?”

I groaned deeply as I sat up straight again on the couch and Jamie settled in next to me. “It felt a whole lot more than justgood.”

He bit his lower lip and dove in again, claiming my mouth with his.

My cock throbbed as he parted his lips, letting his tongue slide out onto mine.

Fuck.

How was I supposed to resist this? Resisthim?My hands found their way to the sides of his waist and I squeezed him, going against every instinct I should have listened to.

I’d never been the type to crave what I couldn’t have.

But with Jamie, I’d been doomed from the start.

He pulled off, giving my lower lip a little nibble before he moved away, sitting beside me again. Our eyes locked onto one another for a heated moment.

More.

Give me more, I begged internally, knowing I had to stop myself. My body already missed the heat of his, the warm weight of his thighs and chest pressed up against my own.

The fire crackled across from us as I reached for my scotch again, taking a sip. The last thing I needed was more alcohol, but I had to do something with my hands that didn’t involve touching his perfect, warm waist again. I couldn’t stop staring at the light freckles beneath his eyes. At every inch of his soft skin.

I sucked in a long breath, briefly closing my eyes.

“I want to ask you something,” I finally said, trying hard not to let words spill out of me like a downpour.

He nodded quickly. “Sure. Yes. Anything.”

“You haven’t had many hookups, and certainly not many recently, right?”

He chewed the inside of his cheek, then finally agreed. “Not recently.”

“So why does itreally seem likeyou want to do it now?” I asked. “Our little bet isn’t over. Nothing’s changed. Why tonight, and with me?”

A worry circled its way around my heart.

The obvious answer: Jamie was drunk, and he was doing something that he might deeply regret tomorrow.

I watched the reflection of the fireplace in his eyes as he stared off for a moment, lost in thought.

“This place seems like the perfect time to do it,” he finally offered. He reached for one of the nearby throw blankets on the couch, pulling it around his legs. “I can’t do anything like this in my normal life. What am I supposed to do, bring a guy hometo my tiny beach house with my roommates’ empty takeout boxes all over the coffee table? Hell, half of the time when I come home, one of them already has a woman over for a date, anyway.”

“Trust me,” I said, “Plenty of people have had hookups next to empty takeout boxes.”

He snorted. “Fine. True. If a guy is hot enough, I wouldn’t care about that either.”

“Okay, okay, so here atSnowcock Resortwould be a good place for it,” I said. “But why me?”

He just shrugged a shoulder. “Because you do this all the time, don’t you?”

I let out a long breath, scooting forward on the couch and rubbing my palms across my face. “Most hookups don’t feel like this, Jamie.”

With most hookups, I don’t feel a strange urge to hug them close and take care of them as much as I want to pull them to bed.

During most hookups, my heart isn’t pounding in my chest like I’m a teenager all over again.

Most hookups aren’t with my friend’s brother.

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