Page 86 of Scoring Eden

That’s the problem.

“Dude, I don’t wanna talk about this anymore.”

“You not wanting to talk about it is exactly why you’re in this mess, bro. Look at yourself. You played like shit today, you look like you’ve had a max of what, like, four hours sleep in the last two days, and you’ve been ignoring Eden since before your fingers were even dry. You’re a better guy than that, man.”

Am I?

Because it doesn’t feel like it.

“Look, Leo’s coming over. He’ll talk some sense into you—or at the very least, beat it into you. He owes you a black eye after the shiner you gave him last year. Maybe I can convince him to cash it in now.”

Exactly what I need. My other best friend to tell me how much I’ve fucked up.

I turn to find Leo slow-jogging up to us, the front strands of his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, his face red from exertion. “What’s up, guys? The tension’s so thick I could feel it back there.” He digs a thumb over his shoulder.

Roman, apparently set on his mission to get Leo to punch me, wastes no time summarizing the shitstorm of my life in a way that makes me out to be an asshole of epic fucking proportions. The worst thing is that he doesn’t even exaggerate. I really am an asshole of epic fucking proportions.

When he’s done, Leo arches a brow and stares at me like I’m a kid who’s just been sent to detention. “What the fuck, dude?”

I open my mouth to defend myself, but nothing comes out. What could I even say anyway? Yeah, I did fingerbang Eden on a washing machine, and now I’m ghosting her, even though I know she hasn’t had sex with anyone since her ex-husband, and she’s probably feeling really alone and vulnerable right now.

Leo’s follow-up question, though, comes at me straight out of left field. “Did you really come in your pants?”

Fantastic.

I nod my head, and Leo howls, clutching his stomach. “Bloody hell. Were you dry-humping or something? Or did it just, like, spontaneously happen?”

“The second one,” I grit through clenched teeth.

Leo’s eyes balk. “How does that even happen?”

I don’t fucking know. I didn’t know it was possible either, but my fingers were inside her, and she was so warm and tight, and she was making all these little noises that seemed to go straight to my dick, and I don’t know what happened, just that I was so turned on by it all, so desperate for her, that suddenly, I was having one of the most intense orgasms of my life, and she hadn’t even touched me.

Leo must read all of this on my face because he shakes his head and chuckles, “Jesus, dude, you’ve got it bad.”

“That’s the root of the issue,” Roman pipes up again. “Dumbass over here is pretending that he doesn’t.”

“I’m not pretending.” I scowl. “It’s true.”

“Oh, yeah?” He grins. “Then what about how you can’t stop thinking about her? That you want her more than you’ve ever wanted anyone, huh?”

“I mean, look at her.” Seriously, the woman is so blindingly beautiful even the sun would be jealous of her. “But that’s just attraction. It doesn’t mean there’s any, like, feelings or whatever.”

Roman rolls his eyes. “I’m attracted to Simone Ashley, but I don’t spend every minute of every day thinking about her.”

“That’s different.”

“How so?”

“You don’t know her.”

“Not true. I did a shoot with her for Prada in the off season.” He gazes over my head at the gray clouds rolling in, a mystified glaze covering his eyes. “She was incredible.”

Leo shoots him a side-eye and claps me on the shoulder. “Look, man, all we’re saying is this is how it starts. You’ve just gotta ride the wave.”

“I’m not much of a surfer.”

He harrumphs. “Then think of it like a riptide. Take it from me, dude, once you’re in it, there really isn’t a lot you can do about it. Only bad things will happen if you try to fight it. You’ve just gotta let it sweep you away.”