Getting Hotter
Page 62
“A little,” he admitted. “But first I need a woman, don’t you think?”
Jen smiled, and his breath actually caught. She was so damn beautiful that sometimes it hurt to look at her. Vivid blue eyes, tousled waves of golden hair, centerfold body—every inch of her was pure perfection, making Cash McCoy one very lucky man.
“You and Cash talking about having kids yet?” he asked, sipping his own iced tea.
“Hardly. It’s only been six months. I think the next step is living together. Then marriage. Then kids. So talk to me in a couple of years.”
“You guys are good, though? Still madly in love?”
“Of course.” Her blue eyes softened. “Cash is amazing. I’ve never known anyone like him.”
“And the new job’s going well?” Jen worked as a freelance photographer for several magazines, one of which happened to be very prestigious.
“You know, the fact that you have to ask me all these questions just proves that we haven’t hung out nearly enough these past couple of months.” Her cupid’s-bow mouth puckered unhappily. “What’s going on with you, Dylan? Are you pissed off at me or something?”
“What? Of course not.”
“Are you pissed at Cash?”
He took the camera from her hand and gently set it on the table, then slung an arm over her shoulder and pinned her with a firm look. “I’m not angry with you, honey. Or Cash. Or anyone, for that matter.”
Except maybe himself, but she didn’t need to know that.
“Then what’s wrong?” Jen’s exquisite features grew pained. “You hardly ever hang out with us anymore, and Matt says you haven’t been responding to his texts.”
Damn it. Sometimes it sucked that Cash and O’Connor lived together. Those two gossiped more than the trio of white-haired ladies Dylan flirted with at Starbucks every morning.
“I just haven’t felt like going out,” he said with a shrug. “I’ve been staying at home lately, working out, watching TV, shooting the shit with Seth. You know, just maxin’ and relaxin’, chillin’ like a villain.”
Jen looked like she was torn between laughing and groaning. She settled on the former, but the amusement on her face faded fast. “I call bullshit, by the way.”
He arched a brow. “On which part?”
“The you-haven’t-felt-like-going-out part. What are you avoiding? Or should I say, who are you avoiding?”
Strands of discomfort climbed up his spine.
“Ha! So you are avoiding someone. I swear, Dylan, if you don’t confide in me, I’ll sic Cash on you. Actually, no, I’ll sic every single one of your teammates on you, my brother included. You know, your lieutenant.”
He sighed. “We both know if I confide in you, it’s the same as confiding in Cash. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about it.”
She looked hurt. “You think I’ll go running to Cash with whatever you tell me? You don’t trust me?”
Another sigh shuddered out. “I trust you, Jen. Okay? I just don’t feel like talking.”
“Why not? You like to talk. That’s the best thing about you—how open and honest you are about what you’re feeling. You’re not one of those men who bottle everything up and pretend the hurt and pain and all that crap doesn’t exist.”
“Maybe I am one of those men,” he shot back.
“No, you’re not. And this? You getting all flustered and bitchy? Clearly proves something is wrong. So what is it?”
“Nothing is wrong,” he ground out.
“Bull. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Quit lying and tell me what’s wrong.”
“Jen, I swear to God…”
“What’s wrong, Dylan?”
“I want to f**k Aidan Rhodes!”
The words flew out before he could stop them, stunning both himself and Jen into silence. Her mouth fell open, blue eyes widening.
As heat suffused his cheeks, he averted his eyes, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut.
“Wow. Okay, so…wow.” Jen shook her head once, twice, three times, as if trying to clear it of cobwebs. “You want to…um, have sex…with Aidan.”
“Yes.” Pure misery shot through him, and yet with it came a feeling of liberation. This was the first time he’d said it out loud.
“Does he…want to have sex with you?”
I want the same damn thing.
Dylan swallowed. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”
Jen went quiet again, and then she shrugged. “So have sex with him.”
Now his jaw dropped. “Are you kidding?”
“No. Are you?” She frowned. “Wait, do you not want to sleep with Aidan? Are you punking me?”
“I’m not punking you,” he said in sheer aggravation. “But I’m pretty frickin’ confused—you think I should have, um, have…”
“Sex,” she filled in, her voice dry.
“Sex…with Aidan.”
“You just said you wanted to. And if he wants the same thing, then why not go for it?”
“Because…because it’s another man,” he burst out. “I’d be having sex with another man, Jen.”
A laugh popped out of her mouth. “Are you kidding me? Dylan, the very first night I met you, you gave Cash a blowjob.” Her voice softened. “And I don’t think it was your first time, either. Was it?”
Jen smiled, and his breath actually caught. She was so damn beautiful that sometimes it hurt to look at her. Vivid blue eyes, tousled waves of golden hair, centerfold body—every inch of her was pure perfection, making Cash McCoy one very lucky man.
“You and Cash talking about having kids yet?” he asked, sipping his own iced tea.
“Hardly. It’s only been six months. I think the next step is living together. Then marriage. Then kids. So talk to me in a couple of years.”
“You guys are good, though? Still madly in love?”
“Of course.” Her blue eyes softened. “Cash is amazing. I’ve never known anyone like him.”
“And the new job’s going well?” Jen worked as a freelance photographer for several magazines, one of which happened to be very prestigious.
“You know, the fact that you have to ask me all these questions just proves that we haven’t hung out nearly enough these past couple of months.” Her cupid’s-bow mouth puckered unhappily. “What’s going on with you, Dylan? Are you pissed off at me or something?”
“What? Of course not.”
“Are you pissed at Cash?”
He took the camera from her hand and gently set it on the table, then slung an arm over her shoulder and pinned her with a firm look. “I’m not angry with you, honey. Or Cash. Or anyone, for that matter.”
Except maybe himself, but she didn’t need to know that.
“Then what’s wrong?” Jen’s exquisite features grew pained. “You hardly ever hang out with us anymore, and Matt says you haven’t been responding to his texts.”
Damn it. Sometimes it sucked that Cash and O’Connor lived together. Those two gossiped more than the trio of white-haired ladies Dylan flirted with at Starbucks every morning.
“I just haven’t felt like going out,” he said with a shrug. “I’ve been staying at home lately, working out, watching TV, shooting the shit with Seth. You know, just maxin’ and relaxin’, chillin’ like a villain.”
Jen looked like she was torn between laughing and groaning. She settled on the former, but the amusement on her face faded fast. “I call bullshit, by the way.”
He arched a brow. “On which part?”
“The you-haven’t-felt-like-going-out part. What are you avoiding? Or should I say, who are you avoiding?”
Strands of discomfort climbed up his spine.
“Ha! So you are avoiding someone. I swear, Dylan, if you don’t confide in me, I’ll sic Cash on you. Actually, no, I’ll sic every single one of your teammates on you, my brother included. You know, your lieutenant.”
He sighed. “We both know if I confide in you, it’s the same as confiding in Cash. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about it.”
She looked hurt. “You think I’ll go running to Cash with whatever you tell me? You don’t trust me?”
Another sigh shuddered out. “I trust you, Jen. Okay? I just don’t feel like talking.”
“Why not? You like to talk. That’s the best thing about you—how open and honest you are about what you’re feeling. You’re not one of those men who bottle everything up and pretend the hurt and pain and all that crap doesn’t exist.”
“Maybe I am one of those men,” he shot back.
“No, you’re not. And this? You getting all flustered and bitchy? Clearly proves something is wrong. So what is it?”
“Nothing is wrong,” he ground out.
“Bull. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Quit lying and tell me what’s wrong.”
“Jen, I swear to God…”
“What’s wrong, Dylan?”
“I want to f**k Aidan Rhodes!”
The words flew out before he could stop them, stunning both himself and Jen into silence. Her mouth fell open, blue eyes widening.
As heat suffused his cheeks, he averted his eyes, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut.
“Wow. Okay, so…wow.” Jen shook her head once, twice, three times, as if trying to clear it of cobwebs. “You want to…um, have sex…with Aidan.”
“Yes.” Pure misery shot through him, and yet with it came a feeling of liberation. This was the first time he’d said it out loud.
“Does he…want to have sex with you?”
I want the same damn thing.
Dylan swallowed. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”
Jen went quiet again, and then she shrugged. “So have sex with him.”
Now his jaw dropped. “Are you kidding?”
“No. Are you?” She frowned. “Wait, do you not want to sleep with Aidan? Are you punking me?”
“I’m not punking you,” he said in sheer aggravation. “But I’m pretty frickin’ confused—you think I should have, um, have…”
“Sex,” she filled in, her voice dry.
“Sex…with Aidan.”
“You just said you wanted to. And if he wants the same thing, then why not go for it?”
“Because…because it’s another man,” he burst out. “I’d be having sex with another man, Jen.”
A laugh popped out of her mouth. “Are you kidding me? Dylan, the very first night I met you, you gave Cash a blowjob.” Her voice softened. “And I don’t think it was your first time, either. Was it?”
