Page 3 of Jig's Last Dance
“Fuck.”
Rolling my eyes, I move for the next handhold, but I’m stuck. I have zero desire to ask for help, but I’m hanging in the wind—literally. I’ve got nothing but my tiny thong panties, which are not covering much.
“Great,” I mumble just as he reaches up and grabs my ass.
“Hey,” I gasp when he palms me, his large hands warm against my cool skin.
“Fuck,” he whispers again, and goosebumps rise on my arms. It shouldn’t feel good to be groped, but I’m two seconds away from begging him to move a little further South when he grabs me around the waist and pulls my back flush against his chest.
Immediately, I feel his boner against my ass, still disturbingly bare, and with a shiver, I concede the rumors were true. His dick is as big as everyone says.
Shit.
I cover my whimper with a growl and buck in his arms, but he only tightens his hold while I thrash away. Unfortunately, Jig stumbles due to my efforts, and before I know it, I’m lying across his chest on the ground and staring at the sky.
With his arm firmly around my waist, he traces lazy circles over my bare stomach, creating tingles in places I refuse to admit. And after a moment of self-indulgence, I shake my head, moving to rise as a dark form appears above us.
“You’re already getting down? Shit.”
Jig chuckles, and I squeak, rolling away.
“Where you goin’?” Jig says, but I ignore him as heat fills my cheeks.
“Hey,” I mutter to Bastion, who grunts but doesn’t bother to acknowledge me.
I haven’t spoken to the big bastard in years, but his prickly demeanor hasn’t changed.
Back on my feet, I grab my skirt, now askew, but Jig beats me to it, tugging on the fabric with rough hands. Blankly, I meet Bastion’s broody stare while I wobble on my feet before pulling away with a frown.
What the hell? But Jig’s not looking at me. No, his bright blue peepers are dead set on Bastion with his mouth pressed in a scowl.
Bastion raises a brow and looks away with a curl to his lip. I search Jig’s expression, but the feral look I thought I saw is gone, and when he meets my gaze, his silly grin is back in place.
“Was it good for you?” he asks.
“Grr,” I growl, squeaking again when he lifts me easily in his arms and sets me up on the rock.
Immediately I scramble for the handholds and pull to the edge before rolling away. I’d be lying if I said my lady parts didn’t stand at attention with his touch, but thankfully no one bothers to ask.
When I glance back, Bastion is looking at Jig like he’s grown two heads, and Jig is standing in front of the rock with his back turned to me.
“Why you acting so weird?” Bastion grumbles, his deep voice echoing in the trees.
If Jig is tall, Bastion’s a fucking beast. He towers over his peers like a giant. I’m pretty sure his arms are as big as my head, and fuck me if his chest doesn’t look like a football field.
“Fuck off,” Jig says with a laugh. And while they’re otherwise distracted, I stalk away. I’m not about to get caught up in Jig’s shit.
It doesn’t matter how hot he is with his thick corded muscles—yes, I drooled a little last year in PE—or how piercing his eyes are. He’s not the type you date. And unless I’m down for a meaningless fuck, this can’t go anywhere.
Could I fuck Jig and forget him? Maybe, but it doesn’t matter. He’s bad news.
When I emerge at the top, the crowd is small, but the music is loud, and I stop beside Shawn, gracing her with an icy look.
“Where’d you go?” she asks.
I open my mouth to respond but shrug instead, grabbing the bottle of booze from her hand and taking a healthy swig. The cheap liquor burns all the way down, but I welcome the feeling superseding the fire in my veins.
Jig has always made me squirm, but I’ve hidden that fact since freshman year when I set eyes on him for the first time. I’ll never forget it, probably because I made an epic fool of myself.