The Punk and the Plaything (When Rivals Play #3) - B.B. Reid Page 0,12

said when he continued to watch me. I could feel a small smile forming and on its heels…hope. Maybe Jamie and I could be friends again?

“No thanks necessary,” Jamie drawled as he turned to face me. “I speak the truth unless the truth won’t get me laid.”

My gaze dropped to my hands in my lap. “Is sex all that matters to you now?”

I heard his scoff, and when I looked up, the white flag we’d waved was gone. I should have known better than to think it would last. Jamie and I were poison with no cure in sight.

“What did you expect?”

I was not about to answer that. I expected nothing. Or at least…I shouldn’t have. “Obviously, you want more if you hold yourself back from those other girls. I’ve heard the rumors, Jamie.” Or could it possibly be that his issue was physical rather than emotional?

“When and how I come is none of your business, Barbette.” He paused, and then his pierced brow quirked as the flame in his eyes rose higher. “Unless you’re offering?”

I felt my cheeks warm, and my nipples pebbled underneath my silk blouse. “What makes you think I’d want your broken dick?”

The withering look he’d given me made me wish I’d kept my mouth shut, especially when he crossed my bedroom, pushed me on my back, and climbed on top of me. He was careful not to touch me any more than that, though. No, that would have been catastrophic for both of us.

“Tell me, Barbette,” he whispered, lips poised dangerously close, “what’s keeping me from pulling my broken dick out and fucking you senseless?”

I stared back at him, wanting to swear that I wasn’t willing, but we’d both know I would be lying, and he’d see right through. And that was even more embarrassing than telling the truth.

“Nothing.”

He froze, and I could tell by his startled gaze that he hadn’t been expecting the truth. I wasn’t sure how long we had laid there gazing at one another before he finally broke the stunned silence.

“Then consider yourself lucky that I’m not interested,” he mumbled. Shooting to his feet, he rushed for the door.

“Then why did you come here?” I yelled as I quickly stood as well. “Why do you keep looking at me as if fucking me is all you want to do?”

And why the hell was I even arguing with him?

I should be letting Jamie go, not secretly hoping he’d stay.

Ripping open the door, Jamie stated over his shoulder as he walked away, “All’s fair in love and war, Barbette.”

The moment my bedroom door slammed shut, I sank to the floor, feeling boneless. He’d taken all my strength and common sense with him.

Again.

Summer… Six Years Ago

“HE’S SO DREAMY.” OLIVIA SIGHED as she stared out her bedroom window. Olivia Portland had been handpicked by my parents as a suitable playmate, and while she was nice enough, we had nothing in common. Olivia was glitter, gloss, and rainbows—while I… didn’t shine so bright.

Blonde ringlets framed Olivia’s face, but I didn’t need to see to know she was blushing. She was lying on her stomach, ankles crossed in the air without regard for the frilly, yellow dress she wore. Her fists were propped under her chin, and I could practically see the sparkle in her doe-brown eyes in the window’s reflection.

It was the same reaction we both had whenever a certain boy came around.

Against my better judgment, I moved to stand over her perch on the cushioned window bench.

Olivia glanced over her shoulder and flashed me an uncomfortable smile. “They’re waiting for you, you know.”

I knew.

I’d already changed into my favorite red ball cap with my freshly-curled hair shoved underneath, cargo shorts that Vaughn had long since grown out of, and the Fall Out Boy T-shirt that Ever had been reluctant to part with. Vaughn ended up having to win it for me in an arm-wrestling match since Ever hadn’t been quite so chivalrous.

For some reason, I was stalling. Perhaps I was just waiting for the butterflies to go away so I wouldn’t make a fool of myself.

I chose not to respond as I watched Ever wrestle Jason, Olivia’s twin brother, on the front lawn. They’d discarded their shirts and were grunting and groaning as they used what they liked to pretend was their considerable strength to best the other.

Ever managed to get Jason in a headlock that, after several seconds, his opponent found it impossible to break and tapped out. I nearly swallowed my tongue when