“Oh shut up. It’s early and I’m horny and you’re taking your life into your own hands by even standing that close to me in nothing but a t-shirt and boxers.”
“So now I’m not a tease, I’m just available?”
He shrugged. “If the shoe fits—Cinderella.”
Low blow.
Seething, she made a move to slap him, but he caught her hand and pulled her onto the bed, then rolled on top of her. “Admit it. You were thinking the same thing. Oh look, man-whore of the century wants me; I’ll just have a little bit of my birthday cake early…”
His eyes took on a different color, almost as if he was angry. She tried to push against him, but Jake was like an immovable rock. Every single plane of his body felt like it was carved out of stone, but he was warm, so damn warm it was killing her slowly to even be touching him. He was singeing her to within an inch of her life.
“Fine,” she lied. “I just wanted one taste.”
His eyes flared with anger.
“Who says you can’t have your cake and eat it, too?”
Eyes wide, he swore under his breath and released her, rolling onto his back. “I’ll take you home.”
“What? No snappy retort?” Char asked innocently.
He was silent for a moment, then mumbled something about grandmothers and their manipulative ways before he whispered, “No. Nothing.”
“Fine.”
“Fine!” he yelled.
“Fine!” She pushed him back against the bed and ran toward the door to open it, but it opened before she could get her hands on it.
“Everything okay in here?” Kacey asked, peering around Char to give Jake the glare of death.
“Peachy,” Jake sang from the bed, still lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. “I’m friggin’ fantastic. Just waiting for Char to get ready to I can take her back to the city.”
Char pasted a smile on her face. “I’m just going to go wash some of the man-whore from my body and I’ll be ready to go. Some of us still have jobs to go to in the morning.”
“Heard that!” Jake yelled from the bed.
“I’m surprised you can hear anything at all after how loud you snore!” Char fired back and stormed out of the room.
Chapter Twenty-one
Mad as hell, Jake continued to stare at the ceiling.
Something kicked his foot.
He refused to move.
“What did you do?” The mattress sunk as Kacey sat next to him. “Seriously.”
“Nothing,” Jake grumbled. “That’s the damn problem.”
“The problem is you didn’t do anything?”
“Right.”
“Are you drunk?”
“Why is that always the first thing people ask me? Have I really been acting like an alcoholic these past three years? Seriously?” He sat up and sighed.