The Takeover (The Miles High Club 2)

Fletcher is sitting at his desk, on the computer.

“So where did you go then?” Tristan asks.

“Back to my friend’s house for a while.”

I frown. What are they talking about? I lean in closer so that I can hear.

“So . . . Fletch.” Tristan hesitates, as if choosing his words carefully. “You know how to put on a condom . . . right?”

What the fuck? How dare he ask that. Fletcher is nowhere near having sex.

“No, not really.” Fletcher sighs. “What if I fuck it up and do it wrong? Can it come off midway?”

My eyes widen in horror.

What?

“Yeah, it can, and it’s your responsibility to know this shit. Condoms are the boy’s job. You need to practice before you get there.”

I put my hand over my mouth. Oh my God.

My baby . . .

I quickly walk down the stairs. My ears . . . what the hell did I just hear?

I go to the kitchen sink and pour myself a glass of wine and chug it down.

I do it again.

I’m feeling overwhelmed and nervous and happy and terrified.

“Hey,” Tristan whispers from behind me. “There you are.”

I turn to him. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “For being here. It means a lot.”

He leans in and tenderly kisses me. My eyes close at the feeling of his lips against mine.

We stare at each other in the semidarkened kitchen . . . and God, I want him.

I want all of him.

But this is wrong . . . this is Wade’s house.

“I have to take a shower,” I whisper.

“Okay.” He smiles and softly kisses me again. His kiss has just the right amount of suction, and I feel it between my legs. Tristan being here feels special.

Too special.

I push myself off him and step back, and without another word, I rush from the room.

Half an hour later, I stand under the water in my shower. Guilt is coursing through my veins.

It feels real.