Not Just Friends (Hot in the City #3) - T. Gephart Page 0,15

doors to the club, the queen to the empire not currently in residence. And to think I’d gone on the run to get her off my mind and that was where I ended up.

Should have tried harder to jerk off.

And how did a woman I’ve known for nine years have my head so messed up? It wasn’t like I’d just met her, or suddenly realized she was fucking hot. My eyes almost popped out of my head when Tibbs had introduced me to his sixteen-year-old sister. But even without his repeated warnings, I wouldn’t have been stupid enough to try something. She was so young.

Or so I thought.

Nope, and given what I knew now, not sure my eighteen-year-old self would’ve stayed away.

Because Tibbs’ little sister was not only crazy beautiful, smart, and funny.

She was insane between the sheets.

In. Sane.

Shaking off the memory, I got my feet moving again and headed back to my apartment. The run hadn’t been as successful as I’d hoped—my head not any clearer—but it had killed some time.

I tried not to think, concentrating on my breathing and the sounds of the city as I sprinted back home.

“You went for a run?” Tibbs yawned, a cup of coffee in one hand, his phone in the other. It seemed I wasn’t the only one who had issues sleeping.

My head nodded, trying to catch my breath. “Yeah, thought I’d get a workout in before we needed to head in. What are you doing up?”

“Actually, I’m glad we are both awake. Something we need to discuss.” He gave me a pointed look.

Hmmmm, that didn’t sound good.

In fact, it sounded the opposite of good.

Trying to not get ahead of myself, I tried to act cool, calm and collected, willing to hear my buddy out. It probably had nothing to do with Presley, and I was rocking way too much paranoia.

“Oh? What about?” I asked, genuinely concerned and selfishly hoping whatever his crisis was, it had nothing to do with me.

“C’mon, man, what do you think?” His eyes didn’t drop. “Presley.”

FUCK.

Although my concern for my own ass only lasted a second, the phone in his hand giving me a whole other set of possibilities—none of which I liked—to fixate on. “She okay? Please tell me the bastard didn’t try anything.”

I knew I should’ve driven her home.

Should’ve stopped thinking with my goddamn dick.

Waited outside and insisted I see her safely to her apartment. Could’ve kept my hands to myself like I’d done a million times before, not touched or kissed her no matter how much I wanted to, and made fucking sure she was okay.

Jesus, I was a coward.

And was so pissed at myself I couldn’t see straight.

“Tibbs, is Presley okay?” I asked again, every muscle in my body so tight, shit was starting to hurt.

Tibbs swore, shaking his head. “Shit, sorry, I’m a dick. Yeah, yeah, she’s fine. I keep forgetting you care about her as much as I do.” He laughed, tossing his phone onto the coffee table. “I know she’s like a sister to you too.”

Yeah . . . not so much.

My body relaxed a little knowing she wasn’t in danger. “So what’s up then?”

The hesitation was unavoidable because I literally had no idea what he was going to say. It wasn’t a good thing either, usually able to read my best friend like a book.

“Did you happen to go past Diablo last night? After you left here?”

Annnnnnd there we were.

Fuck.

They might have been questions coming out of his mouth, but his eyes told me he already knew. And while he was still living in the delusion that I thought of Presley as a sister, he probably had fucking questions. Like why the hell I hadn’t told him. To be honest, I was surprised it had taken him that long, and not jacked me up the minute I’d walked in the door when I got home. It had been late, or early depending on how you wanted to look at it, and he was already passed out. Of course, that was what I assumed since his bedroom door was shut and the lights were off. Little did I know he was probably biding his time.

“Yeah I did.”

I’d been tempted to lie, pretend like I had no idea what he was talking about, but it just wasn’t in me. We’d been through some hairy situations at work, and I respected the man too much.

“Thank fuck.” He visibly relaxed. “Mitch said he saw your car around. I hoped you stopped by, maybe