Broken Compass

Dammit.

She leans over me and kisses me where I’m sprawled on the sofa, pretending to be watching a sports program while I’m watching her. “Be good while I’m away.”

“Nah,” I mutter. “Sorry. You can’t leave me high and dry like that. Maybe I’ll make out with West.”

Her eyes darken. “If you’re going to do that, I want to be there.”

“Do what?” West wanders in, a mug of coffee in one hand, dressed in low-slung sweats. “And with who?”

“With Nate,” Syd says, and West swallows hard, her gaze darting to me. “Do naughty things.”

“Uh…” It’s fucking cute how he glances down at my crotch and away, a dark flush staining his cheeks. “Are you guys serious?”

Sydney goes around the sofa to kiss him, too, and I think about it. Are we serious? I kissed the guy, and it felt good. He tasted good, and his hard body against mine was great. But do I want to take the next step?

Me, who can’t even fuck Sydney because I get a panic attack when she gets too close.

Yeah, right.

“Take care, Shortcake,” I tell her, giving her one last appreciative once-over. “Call us if you need anything.”

It’s okay if my girl goes out with her bestie, right? Even though it’s becoming a weekly thing, and I wonder what’s up with that. Even though I’d rather go full caveman on her, throw her over my shoulder, carry her to the bedroom and make her come again and again.

“You sure that you don’t need a pair of bodyguards?” West says it lightly, breaking through the direction my thoughts are going—the gutter.

His gaze is serious and intent. He’s overprotective of Syd. Hell, we both are. And overly cautious ever since Kash vanished—because didn’t he say something about danger?

We haven’t talked about it openly, but I know West is thinking of that as he props his hip against the back of the sofa and waits for Syd’s reply.

She sways from high heel to high heel, twists a lock of copper hair around her forefinger. She’s a shorty, but in this dress her legs look endless, and her curves are mouthwatering.

She’s always mouthwatering.

Damn, I have to shift on the cushions to ease my hard-on in my sweats, and both of them glance at me. I fight the urge to wave and grin. My hard-on is saluting them anyway, aching and straining.

West shakes his head with a huff. Like he can talk. His dick is diamond-hard. There’s not much those thin sweats can hide.

“I’m gonna go. The Uber must be downstairs and Gigi’s waiting for me.” She gives me and West a lingering look as if she’s regretting leaving.

I sure hope so. If that makes me petty and selfish, I don’t give a fuck. She’s my girl, and I want her with me. I’m selfish when it comes to her.

The door closes behind her and I slump back on the sofa with a sigh.

You can’t miss her already, Nate. Don’t be an idiot. Don’t be that lovestruck idiot you always laughed about in the past.

Another impossible task.

I snag my laptop from the coffee table, determined to think about other things than kissing my way down Sydney’s body, spreading her legs and eating her up.

Fuck.

Besides, it’s been a long couple of weeks, and I need to talk to West. I’ve just been putting it off.

“Beer?” He sinks down beside me and slams the beer bottles on the table without waiting for an answer, barely missing the laptop.

“Yeah.”

“You wanted to compare notes?” He grabs the remote and changes channels, flipping through them as I open a website. He settles on a cooking show. “You said you had a phone number to call.”