Page 13 of Beg Me

Gianna falls back in her seat. “Wow.”

You have no idea.

I’ve been unable to shake Jory from my mind. I keep telling myself that it’s just because he’s so hot and I’m in such a dry spell—that I’m just a girl with unmet needs. It’s science at its most basic level. But the slightly concerning part of it is that I’m not only fantasizing about his shoulders and those freaking lips. I’m remembering the playfulness of his tone and how tender he was with Gus.

That could be a problem if I let it.

Good thing I won’t.

“But it gets wilder,” I say, blowing out a breath. “My brother called to see if I could call the water department today to have the meter read at his rental house because God forbid he call without wanting something.” I roll my eyes. “And guess who his new tenant is.”

Her eyes grow wide. “No.”

“Yup. The guy. Jory Plath.”

“No!” She sits up in her seat. “I know him. He’s Drake’s friend. They lived near each other in Nashville and played basketball sometimes.” Her arms cross over her chest as she sits back again, looking like the cat that ate the canary. “Oh, Markie. He’s hot.”

My brain short-circuits. “Okay, so you know Jory because he and Drake are friends. My brother knows him from college. They’re like best friends, apparently, which is something I just learned because Miles refuses to be a normal human and talk about his life with me. And Gray knows him because they played on the Royals together. And here we are—except Miles. All in the same small town. What are the odds?”

“If I believed in fate, I’d say it was fate.”

“It’s a cosmic prank dipped into a vat of temptation to see if I’m dumb enough to take the bait. That’s all it is.”

She smirks. “So, are you taking it?”

“No.” I grimace. “While I may have thought about him bending me over every possible surface of my house, I’m uninterested in actually following through with that fantasy.”

My insistence that I’m uninterested might as well have been said to the table because if Gianna heard it, she didn’t listen. Mischief lifts the corners of her lips as her smirk deepens.

“I know he hit on you,” she says, narrowing her eyes.

“Yeah. He asked me to dinner.” I should leave it here—drop the dinner invite and move on. But where’s the fun in that? “And he might’ve volunteered to be my partner in the tournament.”

Her eyes shine with excitement.

“I said no, obviously,” I say, lifting my glass to my lips.

“Why? He’s beautiful, Markie. Do it for me. Think of it like taking one for the team, because I’ve always wondered what that man was like in bed.”

I choke on my drink, grabbing a napkin and dotting my eyes with it. Gianna watches me with an almost morbid humor.

“That’s exactly what I imagine,” she says, teasing me. “I know he’s so big that you’d choke on it.”

“Stop it.” My eyes and throat burn as I try to breathe normally. I point at her. “Don’t say another word.”

Lisa swings by to check on us. Thankfully, Gianna doesn’t share why I’m nearly dying across from her and makes small talk with our server as I try to get my wits together. Just as I gather myself, the chimes on the door ring, and we all look up.

“Speaking of dicks,” I say as my sights land on Jasper.

He scans the room until his gaze meets mine. A small, I’m just a good guy smile touches his lips. He watches me for a long moment before he tucks his chin, heading for a barstool at the front of the building. All the while, a hot, bitter wave of resentment rises and settles beneath my ribs.

That motherfucker.

I rip my gaze from the back of his head. “Do you know what pisses me off the most?”

“The options are endless, but I have an inkling,” Gianna says, clearly irritated about Jasper’s appearance, too.

“It’s the fact that he comes across as this nice, sweet guy. Harmless. Good,” I say, spitting the word. “That’s the worst part. Not that he cheated on me. Not that he thinks he can compete against me in the tournament.” I lean forward until my chest digs into the table’s edge. “It’s that he has the audacity to wear that sweet smile like some kind of saint.” My jaw clenches. “If you’re going to be an asshole, have the balls to be an asshole.”