Page 24 of One Night with Number Nineteen

Fucking nosy bastards, the entire lot of my teammates.

And anyway, I’ve spent more than one night with lots of women.

Sometimes two nights. Even three. Hell, there was that one time, it lasted five nights.

And the time I thought it would last for⁠—

I slam the lid on the memories, lock eyes with my teammate. “That’s not any of your business.”

“Yeah?” His brows lift. “Well, Lainey is, and she’s had it tough. She doesn’t need…”

“Doesn’t need what exactly?” I grind out.

“Someone who’s going to take advantage of her.”

Rage rises up inside me so quickly I have to clench my hands into fists to keep from throttling my asshole teammate.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I hiss.

I don’t hurt women.

Not fucking ever.

In fact, it seems like they mostly want to hurt me…

I clench my teeth together until a sharp bolt of pain shoots through my jaw.

Because that’s not fair.

It’s not her fault—not either of their faults—that things went so⁠—

Nope.

No fucking way. Not going there. Not tonight. Not ever.

“She’s grieving, man,” he says.

So am I.

For years now, I’ve been⁠—

I slam the lid on those thoughts and glance away, looking at much more pleasurable things.

At Lainey.

Christ, I know I’m no good for her. It’s why I’m propping up this wall still instead of following her over and charming my way back into her bed. It’s why I haven’t done more than talk with her since that night when all I want is to touch and kiss and stroke every inch of her luscious body.

“I only speak the truth,” Gray mutters.

“You’re still an asshole.”

“That’s true enough.” He pushes off the wall and starts toward his woman, telling me over his shoulder, “And you’re only pissed because I’m right.”

I don’t reply, and I don’t follow him.

Because, asshole or not, he is right.

Instead, I let myself have one more glimpse of Lainey.