This was the moment that the two of us hooked up as adults. It wasn’t just two horny kids looking for quick relief from a burst of lust. It was the culmination of something that I’d always wondered about the possibility of happening.
That night on the boat, I lost track of myself for a moment. I blame it on the alcohol. I held her face in my hands and told her that I would be there for her if she ever needed me. That all she had to do was call. I hoped she’d read into things and give me some sort of indication that she did need me—daily.
Instead, Bellamy made it clear that I was a peripheral part of her life in her subtle way. She cracked jokes and talked about me like a guy she barely knew. She put a bit of distance between our naked bodies and fell asleep shortly after that.
So I stayed there. Emotionally. Physically. In every way. Right where she wanted me.
Just like I do now.
Her indifference to me—that night specifically—shook my confidence a little. I’d never attempted to connect with someone like that. To be shot down? Ouch. But, more than that, it diminished that sliver of possibility about the future. It freed me in a way that I didn’t want once I had it but took advantage of anyway.
I slept with women. I acknowledged that they would never want the real me because if the one person who knew me better than anyone didn’t, who would?
I watched Bellamy as I texted Meadow back a few hours later. The thought of leaving Bellamy softened my excitement of dashing to New York City to open for a headliner in Times Square. But I knew what I had to do—both for her and for me.
I left before she woke up and hoped it made things easier for her.
But did it?
The doorbell rings before I can think about it too in depth. I glance at my watch as I make my way down the hallway and descend the stairs.
Did she change her mind and decide to bring Bree over?
I tug open the door without looking through the peephole.
Standing on the other side is a smiling Bree and a scowling Bellamy.
My cheeks split into a grin. “Well, I didn’t expect to see you two today.”
“Mom said I could come,” Bree says, holding up a mitt and a workbook. “I’m ready to get busy.”
“That’s great,” I say, looking at Bellamy over Bree’s head. “What do you want to do first?”
“Baseball. But Mom said it has to be piano because I have a recital coming up,” Bree says with a sigh.
Bellamy crosses her arms over her chest. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I say, motioning for Bree to come inside.
I step out of the way as they both walk by me, then shut the door behind them.
“Can I use the bathroom before we get started?” Bree asks. “I gotta pee bad.”
I laugh, pulling my eyes from Bellamy’s. “Sure. Go into the kitchen. There’s a door on the left with a calendar hanging on it. That’s a bathroom.”
“Thanks!” Bree sets her stuff on the floor and takes off toward the kitchen.
Once her footsteps fade away, Bellamy sighs.
“About earlier …” She bites her bottom lip.
I reach forward and spring it free. She gasps at the contact. I could, too, by the heat that fires through my veins, but I contain my surprise better than her.
“What did you mean earlier?” I ask her.
“What do you mean?”
I roll my eyes. “You know what you said. You insinuated that I walk away from you, I assume, like it’s a joke.”
Her cheeks flush as she looks toward the kitchen. “Look, I shouldn’t have said that. It doesn’t matter. I—”
“The hell it doesn’t matter.”
“It doesn’t, Coy. I’m only here because Lauren couldn’t get anyone else for Bree, and Bree was so excited. So, I’m a sucker, all right? But I’m here for her, not to hash out things that don’t matter between us.”
I furrow my brows and try to work out what she’s saying and what she’s not saying. I feel like both are equally important.
“Bells, if something is bothering you, I wanna talk about it.”
She shoots me a dirty look. “Please don’t placate me.”
“I’m not.”
She covers her face with her hands and holds them there.
“What are you doing?” I ask, trying not to laugh.
“I’m manifesting.”
“What are you manifesting?”
“Peace, love, and goodwill to men.”
I snort. “So, you’re trying to manifest yourself into a Hallmark card?”
She drops her hands and fights a smile.
I want to reach out and touch the side of her face. My fingers burn to run through her hair, and it’s almost impossible not to reach out and pull her to me.
She’s too beautiful, too sexy—too real and raw with her makeup-free face and the cellulite that I know dimples her ass. What you see with Bellamy Davenport is what you get, and there’s something remarkably, insanely attractive about that.
“If you get sick of doing this, just give me the heads-up, and I’ll get Bree out of here,” she tells me. “I know this is going to get old really fast.”
I shrug. “Maybe not.”
She quirks a brow like she doesn’t believe me. “I can handle Bree, but you’ll have to tell Lauren. She’s all about this.”
“I think Lauren was all about me.”
She scoffs. “I bet you do.”
“What? Are you saying she wasn’t?”
“I’m saying that you think every woman is about you.”
I can’t help myself. I take a step closer and grin. “What about you? Are you about me?”
She doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t bat an eyelash. “No.”
For a split second, my confidence is dinged. Maybe she’s not. But then I see it—the chink in her armor. The acknowledgment of the energy between us. The way her eyes light up as she’s undoubtedly thinking about that night on the boat again too.
Because I for damn sure am.
“Why do you pretend you aren’t attracted to me?” I ask her.
“Why do you pretend I am?”
I take another step toward her. “Why do you pretend you don’t like me?”
“Because I don’t,” she says with a slight wobble to her tone.
I stop just in front of her.
She looks up at me, refusing to bend to my will, and grins. I lick my lips as I tell myself not to kiss her.
“You’re right, Coy. I need to stop lying to both of us.”
I nod, closing the slightest gap between us. Our bodies nearly touch and would if our breathing wasn’t so shallow.
My cock goes hard; my blood turns red hot as I watch desire pool in her eyes.
I straddle her feet with mine and peer down at her.
“Part of my manifestation journey is being clear about what I want,” she almost purrs. “I used to think that if I just told myself that I didn’t want certain things, or people, that the desire would go away. But that’s not how it works.”
“Nope.”
She smiles mischievously. Her lips part, forming a soft o before she breathes in a hasty breath that I think is just to rile me up.
It works.
“Bells …” I say, unable to see straight. I want her so bad I can taste her.