Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Shimmying pants down my hips and thighs, I’m tempted to take another tiny peek at him. Fall into the pool of lust, right? Maybe it’ll heat me up.
I twist my head over my shoulder and see his round ass perfectly molded against damp blue boxer briefs. Rocky has more muscle definition around his waist with a V-line that dives toward his cock, but they’re both classically attractive like one of Michelangelo’s sculptures.
I imagine they’d be competing in the same museum, vying for the most attention. And oh my fucking God, why am I thinking of Rocky again? Especially when I’m looking at Jake.
Ughhhh. It’s like he’s attached himself to my frontal cortex.
Jake casts another glance back at me, and our eyes catch. A warm flush ascends my neck. Instead of breaking the gaze, we allow each other to ogle. To check one another out. It’s a good distraction, one I plummet into with wide open arms.
“Nice ass,” I tell him.
“Likewise.”
I laugh. “So polite.”
He spins around completely to face me and steps closer. “You want me to be rude?” He reaches past my arm to the locker next to me. His skin brushes mine, and I go still.
His eyes fall to me as I cage my breath. He adds, “Pretty sure that’s your ex-husband’s gig.”
Mention of Rocky prolongs my exhale.
“But maybe that’s what turns you on,” Jake says, sliding an arm through his fresh button-down.
In only a bra and panties, my near nakedness doesn’t make me feel exposed. It’s his words that send me through a whirlpool of emotions.
“I have many turn-ons, Koning,” I say sharply. “Politeness is just bottom rung.”
“That says a lot,” he replies, eyes flashing up and down my body like he has me all figured out.
Hardly.
Still, I’m frowning and feeling as if he’s stripped me even more bare. “Why?”
“Just didn’t know why you would have married a guy like him,” Jake says. “He’s the kind of person I would have warned my sister against. Red flag city. But maybe he’s a god in bed—who knows?”
I wouldn’t know.
My throat swells, unable to say that truth.
The entrance to the locker room creaks open. Shitshitshit. Crouching behind the cardboard box, I scramble with my new blouse.
Where are the armholes? Come on.
It’s probably some middle-aged club member, like one of the widowers. Oh God, please don’t let it be Mr. Burke.
Jake, in a half-buttoned shirt and boxer briefs, inches out of our row. “I’m changing in here, man.” That’s what locker rooms are for. To change.
He could’ve chosen a million other lies or a Koning “this is my locker room” power play to deter the person.
Instead, he goes with the truth. Noble, yes. Helpful, I don’t see how. Where’s the bad guy when you need him? It hurts, how much I actually miss being around Rocky.
I don’t hear the door shut.
I only hear footsteps coming closer to this row of lockers.
“Yeah, sorry,” Rocky says, not sounding sorry at all.
Rocky is here?
Did I just manifest him? Relief that it’s not Mr. Burke washes over me. And then I remember I’m in lacy pink panties and a white bra while Jake is half dressed. This is bad.
Very, very bad. I hasten my search for this stupid fucking armhole. I’ve literally turned the blouse inside out.
“I’m just looking for Phoebe,” Rocky says, his gravelly voice speeding up my pulse. “Hailey said she was in the locker rooms.”
I internally groan. It’s not Hailey’s fault. But I also can’t hide from her older brother. This isn’t a secret I want to keep—especially since it’s innocent. So I’m not exactly scampering into the dark depths of the room.
Not that I’d have time anyway.
Just as I straighten up out of a squat, Rocky comes into view. He stops short, his muscles flexed.
I speak fast. “I know how this looks—”
His tightened gaze pings from Jake to me. “Yeah. Like you two fucked in a locker room.”
Jake groans. “Jesus.”
“We were just changing,” I say. “We got soaked in the rain.”
Rocky is at a low simmer. His jaw sets, thinking it over. Would I be just as upset if I caught him with a girl? Highly likely.
It’s hard not to feel possessive. But maybe this is good for us. Maybe we need reasons to just . . . move on? Then why does it hurt? I blink back a stronger emotion and hurriedly pull on the dry blouse, a knot constricting in my lungs. My panties are still wet, but I can’t do anything about that. Tension amasses in the room the longer the silence extends, but I don’t know how to break it. I don’t know what to do.
I glance at Rocky like Help.
He takes a steadying breath, and his eyes go dark. Blank. I don’t like it. Then he turns to Jake. “She’s all yours, man.”
Jake glowers. “She’s not an object you can gift me. So, no thanks.”