The Queen & the Homo Jock King (At First Sight 2)

“Fuck you.”

“Sandy.”

I stepped out from around the screen. Because I wanted to, not because he told me to. In fact—

He took a step toward me and then another. He said, “I don’t want you to see Brian.” Like he had any right to say anything.

I glared at him. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“I know,” he said. “But I’m telling you anyway.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Not good enough,” I snapped at him and then he was standing right in front of me. “Especially not because of your fucking double standard. You don’t want Brian to touch me yet you let that fucking twink rub up on your shit like it’s going out of style. You don’t get to be that person, Darren. Not when you’re a fucking hypocrite. Fuck him, don’t fuck him, I don’t give a shit.”

“Really,” he said. “Funny how you not caring looks exactly like someone who cares too fucking much. Did you ever stop and think about that?”

And didn’t that just irk me. What was it he’d said weeks ago with that smug look on his face? That he’d known I found him attractive, like it was a fucking given I’d want him, because how could I not. And of course, I did, even though it was bullshit. It was all fucking bullshit and I fell for it again. This wasn’t about him being jealous. No, this was about him being fucking butt hurt because I wasn’t collapsing onto him like everyone else did.

I stepped around him and made my way to the door, the silk robe trailing behind me. I reached the door and threw it open, turning and scowling at Darren. I nodded toward the open doorway. “Go.”

“Sandy,” he growled. “Why the hell do you insist on making things so fucking difficult?”

“Because that’s just who I am,” I said. “Now get out.”

“No.”

“I’ll call security up here, don’t think I won’t. I’ve had enough of your—”

“You won’t.”

“Try me, asshole. See what happens.”

He took a step toward me, hands raised like he was talking to a spooked animal. “I didn’t do anything wrong,” he said slowly.

I snorted derisively. “Well that’s certainly not true. There’s not enough time in the world to list all the things you’ve done wrong.”

“I don’t want him.” Another step.

“Not my business.”

“You don’t want Brian.” Another step.

“Not your business.” I was getting agitated and pissed off with myself that I wasn’t being more assertive. But the cockiness had faded quite drastically from his face, and he was looking slightly panicked again. Like he knew he’d done something. That I was getting fed up.

He said, “Sandy,” and he was standing right in front of me, our knees knocking together, both of us breathing heavily, my robe open, the sweats slung low on my hips. And I liked it. I liked him so close that he could reach out and touch me if he wanted to, the fucking bastard.

And just when I thought he was going to, his arm raised, hand reaching for me, he instead pressed against the door, the knob slipping in my fingers as he pushed it shut. He crowded me up against the wall and his chest was against mine, the door at my back, the knob digging into my ass. He brought his arms up, placing his hands against the wall, bracketing my face. I felt the long line of his body radiating heat against mine. His face was near mine, eyes wide and bright and searching for something. I looked away, unable to take the closeness. He leaned forward and trailed his nose along my cheek. I sighed a low sound, unable to bite it back before it spilled out.

“We’re not together,” he said, breath hot against me. “Not really.”

“I know,” I ground out. “I despise you.”

“No you don’t.”

“I do. I have. For the longest time. Everyone knows that.”