Dirty Ties

He groaned, but ten minutes later, I’d convinced him to switch the interviewees. I ended the call and lowered into the chair behind my desk. My insides felt hard and cold, foreign yet becoming more and more familiar. I’d manipulated my best friend. Again.

Every time I did this—deceived him, managed him, gave into our parents—something broke inside me, and another piece of who I was fell away, altering me into something, someone, I despised.

The difference was I loved Collin. Hard to believe his parents shared that sentiment. What kind of people would sentence their own son to prison? Their only child? The heir to their empire? These were the same people who nurtured his career, granted him a celebrity position within the company, and elevated him higher and higher to ensure the success of his career.

It came down to control. They controlled him the same way they controlled me.

The phone on my desk buzzed, and Reception displayed on the ID. I hit the speaker button. “Jenna?”

“Your nine o’clock meeting is about to start.”

I released a breath. “I’ll be right out.” I gathered my laptop and cell phone and treaded toward the door.

Thirteen hours later, I dragged my aching feet through the condo and down the hall to my bedroom, stripping my clothes as I walked. Nude and exhausted, I freed my hair and stared at the empty sheets on the bed.

Just like that, the cold feeling inside me returned. I was terrified to be alone, to spend the rest of my life alone. I was terrified to not be alone, to fall for a man, knowing my situation didn’t allow that. I was terrified to fall for a man who fell for me, because I wanted that more than anything.

As I stared at the bed, swaying with fatigue, I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t climb into the lonely void and tell myself everything was okay. Not tonight. I needed something…real. A hug? A warm body? Collin.

I pivoted and headed to the other side of the condo, my gait quickening along the unlit hall to his suite, my bare skin prickling against the chill in the air.

He was probably asleep. I would just sneak under his covers and wrap my arms around him. Maybe entwine our legs. He liked his space, but he’d hold me. Collin never turned me away.

The door stood open, his bedroom dimly lit by the cityscape beyond the wall of windows. I crept to the bed and stopped, straining my eyes through the dark.

The blankets rose over a wide man-sized mountain in the center of the mattress. Two dark heads rested on the pillow, bodies twisted together, and breaths whispering in steady rhythms of sleep.

My eyes burned and tears rose up. Why the fucking tears? I swiped at my cheeks and backed out of the room. I caught myself on the doorjamb, my knees wobbling.

What was my problem? Was it shock? He’d never had a man stay the night. Neither of us had. But I’d told him to pursue a relationship, and I was happy for him. I was. My best friend had a real chance at…something more.

Then why did it feel like there were claws in my chest, scratching and digging and hollowing out my insides?

I forced myself to stand taller, face the room, and accept the view before me. The claws in my chest dug, dug, dug, swelling a burning lump in my throat. Maybe this was jealousy? Not of Seth but of Collin, of what he had. A man to hold, to cuddle, to wake up with.

God, I was a selfish, wretched friend.

5

Logan

Heat coiled up my spine, chasing the climb of release. Pert, round ass spread over the bike. I reached for it, my balls drawing closer to my body with each pump. Blonde braid around my fist. Another drive of my hips. Ahhhh! I exploded in a muscle-gripping orgasm. Semen burst from my cock, and my thrusts slowed, my back bowing. A groan ripped from my throat as tremors coursed over my skin.

My cock twitched in my fist. I leaned a shoulder against the shower wall and reached for the faucet to adjust the temperature. Cool water pelted my overheated body, diffusing the riot of sensations, the peak of pleasure gone as quickly as it had come.

I wanted a do-over. Hell, I wanted the real thing.

It had only been two days since I got laid. Didn’t matter. The faceless woman I’d met at the bar hadn’t been her. My body was singularly focused on silver leather painted over hourglass curves, my mind refusing to move past it. Until I discovered who she was. Until I fucked her.

It should’ve annoyed me, this unreasonable fixation, but I didn’t care. The next race was a week away. If she showed, I’d confront her. I was done waiting. I needed to fuck her out of my head because, God help me, I had more important things to concentrate on.