Page 36 of Heartless Devil
“I was jacking off.” He shrugs, his eyes traveling down my body, making my face turn bright red.
“You’re so fucking disgusting,” Cam says, curling her lip up in disgust.
“You asked,” he says, grinning, before walking over towards Tyler and the girls.
“I hate him.” Cam pouts.
“No you don’t. He’s your brother,” I point out.
“I wish I hated him. He’s disgusting,” she says, making me laugh.
“Aren’t most guys?”
“That’s a good point,” she says, walking over towards the hot tub.
Laughter from the pool turns my attention in that direction. I watch Cole swim up to that Sasha chick, caging her against the side of the pool, nibbling on her neck like he was just doing to me merely minutes ago.
This is fucking torture. Why is my body so attracted to someone that I’ll never have? Someone that I don’t even want. And why am I being forced to watch some girl throw herself at him?
“Hey, baby,” James says, sliding up next to me.
I have to force myself not to frown at him. I hate pet names.
“Hey.”
“You look so fucking good,” he says, leaning down to whisper in my ear.
God, this guy is relentless.
“Thanks.” I give him a smile that seems to pacify him for the moment.
“You getting in?” he asks, gesturing towards the hot tub.
I glance over, watching Cam and James’ brother shove their tongues down each other’s throats.
“Maybe later. It seems occupied right now,” I say, frowning.
I try to look everywhere but in the direction of Cole and Sasha. I don’t know why I’m letting him get under my skin so much. It’s not like we’re dating or anything. We never will.
“I’m going to grab a drink,” I tell James, gesturing towards the bar.
“I’ll join you,” he says, smiling.
We walk over and grab two bar stools. The bar looks like a tiki hut. It gives you the feel of being on the beach, without actually being on the beach.
“I’ll have a Bud light,” James says when the bartender approaches.
“Vodka tonic,” I say.
“I wouldn’t peg you for a vodka girl,” James says, twirling on his seat to face me.
“What would you peg me for then?” I ask, cocking my head to the side.
“A margarita or something.” He shrugs.
“They’re okay. Just not my first choice.”
He turns his attention from me to the bartender. I don’t blame him. She’s cute and she’s more talkative than I am.