Not Just Friends (Hot in the City #3) - T. Gephart Page 0,32
need. Bennett more than had it covered, and the walls were like a fortress, reinforced steel, lead lined—it was going to take a rocket launcher or a tank to break in.
“Jared, you don’t need to hang with me at work. I won’t have time to babysit and you’ll probably get bored. Besides, it’s your day off. I’m sure you have heaps to catch up on after spending the day with me.”
Laundry, groceries, the gym—both he and my brother had their little daily routine, and I didn’t want to get in the middle of it.
“Who said I needed babysitting,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I’m more than capable of entertaining myself. You will barely even notice me. And when you’re done, I’ll drive you home.”
He withdrew his fingers from my body, rolling to his side as he settled on the bed. “You going to let me stay?” His eyes tipped to the mattress. “Or you going to make me sleep on the couch like my pissed off future wife?”
“I should,” I warned, because despite the blistering orgasm, I was slightly pissed off. “But I’ll take pity on you and let you stay.”
“Good. And you might want to rethink that thing you’re wearing. Might as well have been naked.” He yawned into a grin.
“You’re right. Can you go turn off the lamp?” I pointed to the end table beside the couch throwing off more light than I’d like.
He grunted his agreement, readjusting himself before standing up and doing as I asked. Unfortunately, I didn’t get a chance to enjoy the view, whipping my tangled nightie off my body and slipping between the sheets. After all, he’d mentioned he’d wanted it off earlier and we never got to that. And I didn’t have to be argumentative all the time.
His feet froze as he neared the bed, the crumpled pink satin on the floor hindering his path. I rolled onto my side, hiding my grin. “Night, Leighton.”
“Night, Presley.” The exhale long and hard as he tossed open the covers from his side and slid in. “Thank fuck this is a huge bed.”
Jared
CLEARLY, I’D HAD a messy breakup with sleep.
Not sure if she’d dumped my ass or it had been the other way around, but for the last few nights I’d spent more time contemplating the crown molding than catching the Zs I needed. Still, hard to close your eyes when the smoking-hot woman, you just made come, was laying naked beside you.
And I knew she was baiting me, tossing the scrap of fabric on the floor because she knew it would drive me crazy. Not that it covered much when it had been on her body, so not sure which way was better.
Seeing her sleeping naked when I’d walked in early that morning had been a kick in the balls. I’d gone home, showered, changed and picked up the key from Tibbs. He’d given me a pat on the back, the appreciation he was feeling thankfully left unspoken, so I didn’t feel like a complete jerk. He had no idea what he was doing and the kind of runaway train that was about to leave the station.
Don’t get me wrong, I’d made a silent commitment to both of us—him and me—that I wasn’t going to fuck his sister. Well, not at least in the immediate future. And not because I didn’t want to. But he was right to be worried about her, and I was too, wanting to do anything to make sure she was happy and whole. Best way to do that was to keep my dick in my pants and not complicate things. Or, more to the point, make them more complicated. So, sex with Presley—as much as I hated to admit it—was off the table.
But a naked Presley would test the resolve of a saint. And, fuck knows, I knew most of them. My mom had their framed pictures mounted on the wall, their smiling faces and judgmental eyes following you around the room like some Catholic parlor trick. But if Saint Michael had seen that dark-haired beauty, her dangerous curves barely contained by her covers, the man would have caved for sure.
She’d tried—or did she?—to cover up, throwing on some silky thing that did nothing to hide what was underneath. Instead it showcased it, curling around her hot body and just made things worse.
So . . . I compromised. My dick stayed in my pants as promised, but I also couldn’t ignore what was truly a gift. And given the