Page 26 of Hot Route
Ireallymiss him. Especially right now when I’m feeling ridiculously out of place. The funny thing is, Blaze has millions of dollars more than Brady, but you’d never know it. He’d fit in perfectly at a place like this just like he would at a hole-in-the-wall burger joint. And he’d make me feel comfortable at both.
That realization jolts me back to the present. I look at Brady, still sitting much closer to me than an old friend just wanting to catch up, and I know what I have to do.
“I really appreciate you bringing me here, but I think maybe we aren’t on the same page,” I say as he furrows his brows in confusion. “I’m not really looking to date right now. And if I was, I think we’ve already proven that we live completely different lifestyles. I can offer you friendship, Brady. But I can’t give you anything else.”
His whole demeanor changes in an instant and I find myself worried about what he’ll do or say next. He slides away from me, scoffing.
“Lifestyles?” he says, thankfully keeping his voice low enough so nobody around us hears. “You mean you haven’t grown out of whatever fucked up shit you enjoy in bed, and you know I’m not into that.” I know he’s hurt and deflecting, but this is exactly why I don’t show myself to people. If I had known Brady would use it against me years later when I asked him to bind my wrists together with his tie on prom night, I certainly would’ve never done it. “Is that why you live with Blaze Beckham? Does he do…all of that to you?” His words are spit at me like venom and I don’t know what emotion I’m feeling more. Embarrassment? Anger? Shock?
All of the above.
He continues. “I’m not even surprised. He doesn’t exactly hide the fact that he fucks anything that walks.”
“Don’t talk about him!” I say, pointing my finger in Brady’s face as I stand from the booth. “Blaze is an amazing guy. He’s been good to me and if you think I’m going to let you sit here in last year’s Prada shoes, wearing entirely too much cologne, and insult him, you’re dead wrong.” I look him up and down. “You’ll never change. You’re still the same spoiled douche bag you always were,” I say, my words full of indignation, before walking away. I stop halfway to the door before turning to the room full of people, all of which are staring at me.
“He used to eat his boogers. Probably still does,” I quip, turning and flipping him off over my shoulder, leaving him in my past for good, right where he belongs.
TWENTY-TWO
BLAZE
I pullopen the sliding glass door and walk out onto the balcony of my bedroom. I was supposed to be living it up in LA tonight. I planned on taking one or two cleat chasers back to my hotel room and letting them do whatever they wanted to me. Anything to get my mind off the fact that Mads was back here in Boston, on a date with Brady.
But Icouldn’t. As I watched the two women walk hand-in-hand toward my hotel room, all I could see was my little brunette spitfire in the arms of that charming, safe, handsome motherfucker. I just had to get home, so I booked a ticket and hopped on the first plane out of there.
To do what? Fuck if I know.
When I entered the kitchen, I breathed a sigh of relief seeing her purse on the table. She’s home, which means she isn’t in his bed. The house was quiet and pitch black, so I made my way to my bedroom, padding quietly down the hall in case she was asleep. Last thing I need is to be face-to-face with Mads while I’m sorting through all the fucked up thoughts I’m having about her. I don’t even know where to begin. Do I want her? Of course, I do. I can’t even watch her grumpy ass pour a cup of coffee inthe morning without getting hard. But she’s made it very clear that she needs this job and she won’t do anything to complicate our relationship. I’ve done my best to act like I’m okay with just being her friend, but it’s getting to a point where I can feel myself starting to snap. My feelings for her have spiraled into something I can no longer control. I either have to find a way to get her out of my head, or I have to show her that exploring something with me is worth the risk.
So here I am. Sitting on my balcony with a glass of whiskey, racking my brain to figure out how to make all these feelings disappear. Getting drunk seems like a killer start.
A steady gust of wind blows and I notice the curtain from Mads’ balcony flowing. She must have the door open because the weather has been surprisingly warm for it being the middle of fall. I’ll be sure to address that in the morning. This is a gated community with the most high-tech security, but I don’t want to spend my nights away hoping she hasn’t unknowingly put herself in danger.
Just as I try to shake away the intrusive thoughts, I hear a small, breathy moan coming from the direction of her room. My first thought is that Brady is here. That has me ready to heave myself off this balcony, scale the house Spider-Man style, and rip him off of her. But as I listen closer, I hear a soft, steady buzz.
Fuck. Me.She’s masturbating.
I can’t tear myself away, even though I know I should. This moment isn’t for me to hear. In fact, I’m sure the only reason she’s even allowing those sweet little noises to escape her body is because she thinks I’m not home.
I shouldn’t be listening. And Idefinitelyshouldn’t be going back inside, out my bedroom door, and walking toward hers. The voice in my head is trying to reason with me.What are you planning on doing? Putting a glass up to the door to hear her better?But I don’t just want to hear her. I want toseeher.
I’m having an internal war with myself, but the urge is too strong. It’s like my hand has a mind of its own as it reaches out and slowly turns the doorknob. I only have to crack it a few inches before she’s in full view. Her head is angled away, thankfully. She has the blanket kicked down, wearing nothing but a long t-shirt, pulled up to her navel. Her legs are spread wide as she holds the vibrator against herself, heavy breaths and soft moans escaping her open lips.
I palm my growing erection, squeezing once before dropping my hand.Not tonight, little buddy. Sorry.My other is still holding the doorknob so tightly that I’m surprised it doesn’t turn to dust. She’s fucking beautiful. Even in the low light of the moon, I can make out every dip of her skin. The flair of her hips as they rotate slightly. The deep rise and fall of her chest as she chases her release.
She stops abruptly, sitting up, and I’m sure I’ve been busted. I’m standing outside her door, completely unmoving, trying to come up with a story for why that isn’t“I heard you moaning and wanted to watch you come.”But she doesn’t see me. I quietly exhale, thanking the God of hallway creepers. I should go to my room and forget what I saw. And that’s exactly my plan until she speaks.
“Fuck this,” she whines as she sets the vibrator on her bedside table and throws her head back on the pillow. It takes me a moment to realize that she never came. She had to have been holding that toy to her pussy for at least the last fifteen minutes before she gave up.
I watch as she rubs her thighs together, her discomfort obvious before pulling her covers up with a frustrated huff. That spurs me into action. Even though I know this is wrong and I should be doing everything I can to escape this situation unnoticed, my hand pushes the door open and I step into her room.
She turns her head abruptly toward the door and sits up, stiffening.
“It’s just me,” I say as I move toward her.
“Blaze? I thought you were in L.A. until tomorrow?” she replies, her body relaxing.
I don’t say anything as I grab the vibrator from the table and lightly push her shoulder until she’s laying back on the pillow. Her eyes are wide, mouth agape, but she doesn’t resist. I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience. I’ve been with plenty of women, but the goal with them has always been the same. Get them off so I can get off. There’s something different about this moment with Mads. My cock is like granite behind my zipper, but I don’t give a fuck. All I care about is the ache between her legs and making it go away.
