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“You’re right.” I shake my head. “I probably would.”
I glance down at her phone in my palm again.
“So who’s BOSA?”
“You know him. Michael Bosa.” She rattles out more details. “He’s been in my grade since fourth. He’s so lazy, but he plays baseball and if I didn’t help him pass classes he would never be eligible.”
“Oh. So this has been a long-term business arrangement.” I meet her guilty eyes again. I hold up a palm when her shoulders begin to lift. “No, no. I’m not judging. I just think—”
“What? That I’m a pushover?” she blurts out. She’s getting defensive.
“Hell, no!” That was probably a little loud, but I want my point to get across.
Ha
“Shhh!”
I glance around the corner to peer up the stairs, holding my breath for a couple of seconds. When I don’t hear a sound or see lights come on, I come back to Ha
Ha
“You just think . . .” she echoes my words from a minute ago. I shake out of my trance and glance up. She’s leaning her head to one side and chewing at the inside of her cheek.
“Do you want to get out of this? Or do you want the money?” I lay her options out there, the way Colt would. I hate hearing myself talk like this but it’s maybe the only good thing to come out of my unfortunate birthright. Colt doesn’t get pushed around when it comes to business, and when he’s done dealing with someone, he lets them know. What’s strange is he isn’t even that big of a guy. He just has these crazy eyes and wild behavior that signals he isn’t the guy you mess with. I have those same vibes in me, when I want to show them.
“The money is nice.” Her admission squeaks out and her cheeks redden as her shoulders lift back up to her ears and her gaze falls.
I touch two of my fingers to the soft spot under her chin and lift it gently, coaxing her focus back to me. Sliding my feet forward a few more inches, her knees part to let me in closer. Heat races up my chest and down my legs, my cock flexing with that familiar hunger. I’m not supposed to feel that with this girl, but goddamn, do I right now.
I hold my tongue against the back of my teeth and steady my breath, letting my eyes drift to her lips for just a second. How fast I could ruin everything. Her legs part more. I don’t see it but I feel it at my sides. I know I’m smiling. Not like a huge boyish grin, but like a drunken high kind of smile. I feel it in my cheeks, even with my tongue pressed firming against the sharp edges of my teeth.
“I think it’s time you raise your price,” I utter.
My fingers slip from her chin to the phone I’m holding in the small space between us. I glance up to catch her waiting eyes.
“May I?” I ask.
“Mmm, yes,” she rasps.
I’m not sure if either of us knows whether my question and her answer are about me kissing her or me typing a message on her phone. Part of me meant it both ways, and I’d bet my Supra so did she.
Ha My tongue passes over my top lip and I drop my eyes back down. This is getting hard. I’m getting hard. My thumbs feel like swollen grapes, and I have no idea if they’re going to work, but my brain tells them to type. Thankfully they get the message and sweep over her keyboard. My price is $75 now. I hit send and Ha “Ha.” She breathes out a short laugh in disbelief. I let my grin stretch the width of my face and hand her phone back to her, proud of my negotiating skills, not that there was a lot of negotiating to do. It was common sense. Ha “Thank you!” she whisper shouts, flinging her arms around me and squeezing me in a bear hug. I let her, but I’m all too aware of how this looks and the inevitable moment coming in five, four, three . . . Her arms loosen but don’t let go. She’s still clutching her phone in one hand but the other is free, fingers able to unfurl and stop at the base of my neck, which they do. We separate but don’t part, and her fingernails tickle against long hairs that curl at the base of my neck just as my hands part behind her back and retreat to her sides, then her hips and the tops of her thighs where her extra-large T-shirt suddenly feels incredibly small. The sweetest breath escapes her lips as they part, and our eyes search amid the few inches between us until they meet. I feel the moment in the pit of my stomach, the kind of rush that I only ever get from crossing a finish line before everyone else. Ha My fingertips flirt with the hem of her shirt, rolling it up once, then twice. I’m testing how far she’ll let me go. When her thumb traces a straight line down my neck, dipping under my shirt and scratching my skin in a way that is so far from two friends embracing, I know that at this very moment, there is no line for me to cross. That line doesn’t exist. Not in this kitchen. Not right now. The harsh reality of a door closing upstairs is the only thing that breaks us apart. And it happens fast. I step back until my ass hits the counter’s edge behind me, my hands diving into my pockets for safekeeping—like jail. Ha Fucking hell. “Probably Tommy taking a piss,” I say, ru “Thanks, Dustin,” she finally utters. “For what?” Her eyes flit to me briefly, and she smiles on the side I can see. “For getting me what I’m worth.” She winks then ducks around the corner, racing up the stairs before that bathroom door opens again. I wait until the upstairs is completely silent again before I unplug my phone, borrowing the cord to take it out to my car to finish charging. No way I’m going back to sleep now. I’m too jacked to sort through and settle the bets coming in via text for Friday’s races, let alone sleep. I turn my key partway and shift my car into neutral, extending my leg out the door to kick my way backward down the driveway without rumbling the entire household awake. I stop when the tires dip into the street and I flick the headlights on to check the status of Ha I turn the key fully in the ignition and shift into drive, leaving the Judge house in the dust. Hopefully, I didn’t wake anyone on my way out. Even if I did, that’s a small price to pay to keep myself from blowing up the only family I have.