“Fuuuuuuck,” I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut and trying to ignore the pain in my balls. I had to be up in a few hours and wasn’t liking my chances of getting any decent sleep.
Who knew what would’ve happened if that big bastard hadn’t interrupted us, and not sure if I was grateful or pissed.
Probably pissed.
My dick definitely was, the ache reminding me I’d yet to jerk off.
Jesus, Presley, my hand reached down as I gave myself a tug, the need for release crawling up my spine.
Last thing I wanted to do was lay in bed with my cock in my hand and think about a woman who was supposed to be a no-go zone. It was stupid, counterproductive, and solved nothing. What I should have been doing was imagining anyone else, getting off, and then moving on.
Hell, if I was really serious, I’d be finding a pair of willing lips to take over from my hand and put it to bed. Literally. Because there was no way I could keep my mind on one woman if I was with someone else, right? Pity, I couldn’t think of anyone else, nor work up the motivation to even scroll through my contacts.
My mind tried to help me out, flashing an image of the sexy redheaded bartender with a great pair of tits. Raelle was hot. Tattooed and toned, her shirt so tight even in the dark you could see both nipples were pierced. Wonder what they’d feel like in my mouth, flicking those babies with my tongue.
“The fuck?” I glanced down at my cock, noticing I was no longer hard. I was literally thinking about tonguing a beautiful woman’s tits and somehow had lost an erection. That wasn’t how it was supposed to work, staring at my dick in my hand and wondering when was the last time I couldn’t get hard.
It had been years, and I’d been drunk. Tibbs and I had been out, finding women at a bar and bringing them home. He’d gone to his room, I’d gone to mine, and the poor girl whose name I barely remembered, got a cramp in her jaw trying to get some wood.
Nothing.
Completely limp.
So I did what any self-respecting man would do, flipped her on her back and made her come with my mouth.
And then never saw her again.
“Fuck it.” I kicked off my covers, deciding it was a lost cause. Might as well find a better use of my time, and considering I had a twenty-four-hour shift to get through, I needed to get my mind right.
I threw on some sweatpants and a sweatshirt, pulling on my Nike’s and grabbing the keys on the way out. I didn’t usually run on the street, preferring to get my cardio on a treadmill or rower, and then put some reps in at the gym. But desperate times called for desperate measures and I either hit the sidewalk and got in some miles or went into work early and got three million questions. And trust me, there was enough going on in that stationhouse. Between Mack’s new romance, North’s wife about to have a baby, and Tibbs worried about his sister, they didn’t need my surly mood.
The crisp morning air hit my lungs like a ton of bricks. February wasn’t as brutal as January but was still on the frosty side of the temperature gauge, my breath coming out like a huff of smoke. It was tempting to turn around and go back inside, get a warm shower and kill some time doing something that wouldn’t freeze my balls off. But as I looked down the street, the streetlights still on because the sun hadn’t come up, the cold turned into calm and I decided I’d come this far.
Living in Hell’s Kitchen had its advantages, but it also made it difficult to get away from the noise. Didn’t matter what time of the day or night you ventured out, there was always some action happening on the streets. It was one of the things I loved—losing myself in the bustle, being a part of the mayhem—and in a weird kind of way drowning out my own thoughts until all I could hear was my breathing as I ran.
It felt good, the muscles in my legs warming as I crisscrossed with no real plan, picking up speed as I jogged through the familiar streets. I cruised past the stationhouse, giving the closed bay doors a nod as I continued. Then I found myself in front of Diablo, the distance covered faster than usual since I wasn’t dodging foot traffic and had kept a decent pace.
Without realizing I’d stopped, my feet kept moving while staying in the same place. My eyes surveyed the big black doors to the club, the queen to the empire not currently in residence. And to think I’d gone on the run to get her off my mind and that was where I ended up.
Should have tried harder to jerk off.
And how did a woman I’ve known for nine years have my head so messed up? It wasn’t like I’d just met her, or suddenly realized she was fucking hot. My eyes almost popped out of my head when Tibbs had introduced me to his sixteen-year-old sister. But even without his repeated warnings, I wouldn’t have been stupid enough to try something. She was so young.
Or so I thought.
Nope, and given what I knew now, not sure my eighteen-year-old self would’ve stayed away.
Because Tibbs’ little sister was not only crazy beautiful, smart, and funny.
She was insane between the sheets.
In. Sane.
Shaking off the memory, I got my feet moving again and headed back to my apartment. The run hadn’t been as successful as I’d hoped—my head not any clearer—but it had killed some time.
I tried not to think, concentrating on my breathing and the sounds of the city as I sprinted back home.
“You went for a run?” Tibbs yawned, a cup of coffee in one hand, his phone in the other. It seemed I wasn’t the only one who had issues sleeping.
My head nodded, trying to catch my breath. “Yeah, thought I’d get a workout in before we needed to head in. What are you doing up?”
“Actually, I’m glad we are both awake. Something we need to discuss.” He gave me a pointed look.
Hmmmm, that didn’t sound good.
In fact, it sounded the opposite of good.
Trying to not get ahead of myself, I tried to act cool, calm and collected, willing to hear my buddy out. It probably had nothing to do with Presley, and I was rocking way too much paranoia.
“Oh? What about?” I asked, genuinely concerned and selfishly hoping whatever his crisis was, it had nothing to do with me.
“C’mon, man, what do you think?” His eyes didn’t drop. “Presley.”
FUCK.
Although my concern for my own ass only lasted a second, the phone in his hand giving me a whole other set of possibilities—none of which I liked—to fixate on. “She okay? Please tell me the bastard didn’t try anything.”
I knew I should’ve driven her home.
Should’ve stopped thinking with my goddamn dick.
Waited outside and insisted I see her safely to her apartment. Could’ve kept my hands to myself like I’d done a million times before, not touched or kissed her no matter how much I wanted to, and made fucking sure she was okay.
Jesus, I was a coward.
And was so pissed at myself I couldn’t see straight.
“Tibbs, is Presley okay?” I asked again, every muscle in my body so tight, shit was starting to hurt.
Tibbs swore, shaking his head. “Shit, sorry, I’m a dick. Yeah, yeah, she’s fine. I keep forgetting you care about her as much as I do.” He laughed, tossing his phone onto the coffee table. “I know she’s like a sister to you too.”
Yeah . . . not so much.
My body relaxed a little knowing she wasn’t in danger. “So what’s up then?”