Jock Row (Jock Hard 1)

“I don’t think that’s what I was feeling that night—I was worried, not jealous.”

“Don’t lie, you were a little jealous.”

Yeah, fine—I was a little bit jealous of her friends.

“So you became friends first?” My mom draws out the words, and I can see an idea taking root. “Friends to lovers. Frenemies. I like it.”

No, not lovers—not yet.

But soon.

“To entertain ourselves, we sat outside and played games—”

“And she fed me.”

We’re finishing each other’s sentences now? Barf.

“What kind of games?” Dad asks, flat on his back again, eyes covered with his cap.

“Never Have I Ever.” I clear my throat. “Would You Rather.”

“Drinking games, Sterling? Where did I go wrong with you?”

“We were sober every night, Mom, relax. There was no alcohol involved.”

“Well, except for that one time…” Scarlett mutters.

Ah, that’s right—the night I went to her house, had her ass cheeks filling the palms of my giant hands, my tongue down her throat, and her back against the wall.

That was a great fucking night.

It wasn’t the night I realized I loved her, but it’s when I knew I could.

“It was good for us, I think,” Scarlett finally says. “We learned a lot about each other.”

And ourselves.

“Did you know Sterling was once slapped by a guy?”

Mom looks at me, brows raised. “No, I did not.” Her tone is clipped.

Scarlett laughs, reaching to brush my hair back. Takes a drink of piña colada. “You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed.”

“I’m not embarrassed.”

“Did he tell you he used to wet the bed until he was eight?” My dad’s voice is half dazed, half asleep.

“Jeez Dad! Go to sleep!”

“Oh that’s right!” My mom cackles. “And he was a big kid, too, so it was a lot of pee.”

“Okay, yeah—now I’m embarrassed. You guys can stop.”

We sit here a little longer, laughing and talking beneath the palms, until eventually, Scarlett readjusts herself on the lounge chair so she’s in a position to rest her back against my chest.

“It’s so nice out here, I could stay in the sun all day. The weather is so gross back home.”

She closes her eyes, and I drape the towel over her lower half to blanket her. Stroke her hair. Kiss her shoulder when my parents aren’t looking, resting my mouth there.

Eventually I lean my head back and close my eyes, too.

Rowdy

Ironically, it was my parents who skipped dinner.

Scarlett and I went the ship’s formal dining room and when we arrived at the empty table, I immediately craved room service—specifically fresh sushi I could eat off Scarlett’s naked body—but she was hungry and didn’t have the patience for the forty-five-minute wait.

So, we stayed. Had the entire table to ourselves and ordered practically one of everything off the menu. After dessert, there was no pretense of doing anything but going back to our stateroom.

I flop down on the bed when we get back, legs spread, watching as Scarlett removes her shoes, silky leg propped on the desk chair, fingers expertly unclasping each buckle.

Suddenly, she’s four inches shorter.

“We have one more day tomorrow—what should we do?”

“Beach day?” she suggests. “Or we could bum around town?”

“I could do another beach day.” I’ll do whatever she wants, all damn day, and not complain. “Do you mind, though, if I get up early and hit the gym for a few hours? I’ll be back before you wake up.”

“Of course I don’t mind.”

I lie back, balancing on the mattress, propped up on my elbows. Watching.

She removes her earrings, setting them on the desk, then her bracelets. The three gold bangles jingled all during dinner like a tiny chorus of bells.

“I’m going to take my makeup off real quick.”

While she does that, I kick off my shoes. Peel off my black polo shirt, pull my brown leather belt through the loops of the dress pants Mom made me pack.

Now I don’t know what to do with myself or my hands until Scarlett comes out of the bathroom. I could peel these pants off, but would it be weird if I was just sitting here on the bed in my skivvies?

The bathroom door clicks open and Scarlett pushes through, stepping down into the room, fresh faced and beautiful, her skin a little darker than when we left home.

She stops and stares at my bare chest when she sees me, eyes dropping to the flat of my stomach. It’s rippled due to the way I’m positioned, the muscles hard as a rock.

“You took your shirt off.”

And my socks, and my belt.

My brow lifts. “Should I put it back on?” Better yet, should I take yours off?

“No.”

I reach for her hand, giving her a gentle tug toward me. Position her between my legs, hugging her waist, arms wrapped around her middle. Kiss the underside of her jaw, brushing away the hair falling over her shoulder.

“We’re totally alone,” she observes with a brow raised, dimple pressing into her smooth cheek.

“True.”

“It’s still early.”

I kiss her in reply, and this time my lips brush her collarbone. “Also true.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to go do something? Play checkers perhaps?” Such a little tease.

“Want to play cards?” I call her bluff. “Or we could find a shuffleboard game on deck twelve.”

“Shut up,” she mumbles as she laughs.

“I’m just throwing out ideas—I didn’t say they’d be any good.”

“You’re really sweet, do you know that?”

No.

Not a single soul has ever told me I’m sweet, largely because I’m not…or they’re too busy using me for social gain to actually get to know me on a personal level—the way Scarlett has.

“Thanks.”

When she kisses my forehead, my eyes slide closed. When the tips of her fingers brush my cheekbones, I sigh, kissing her palm when it skates past my mouth. Her thumb drags tenderly along my chin, over my lips.

“You’re beautiful,” she whispers.

Hot. Handsome. Sexy.

Those are terms I’m more familiar with.

“I love your parents. They’re adorable.” Scarlett’s fingers rake through my hair, and I lean forward, burying my face in her cleavage.

“My parents are not adorable,” I mumble.

“I can’t decide if you look more like your mom or your dad.”

I’m a healthy mix of both—Dad’s height and Mom’s green eyes.

“Can we stop talking about my parents, please?”

“Sorry.” She chuckles, not sorry at all. “Thank you for this weekend.”

I angle my head toward her and she frames my face, cupping my jawline in her palms. “You’re welcome.”

Scarlett lowers her mouth. Presses her lips to the corner of my mine, first one side, then the other, kissing those tiny divots she seems so enamored with.

My lips fall open, wanting.

But she only settles her kiss on my bottom lip, brushing gently across the sensitive skin and creating a zing! down my spine like I’ve never felt before.

It’s not the same as being horny; this sensation is because I care about someone other than myself for a change. I’m in love with my friend and it’s giving me the goddamn chills, sitting here like this. In the quiet of this room, with the sound of the ocean beyond our door, the dull ache in my dick finds its way to my heart.

Squeezes.

I breathe in and out, unsuccessfully trying to control my heart rate.

I know where this is going to lead.

I thought I was ready. I’m not a virgin; I’ve fucked plenty of women, all of them more than willing, most of them the aggressors.

I can count on one finger how many times I’ve been nervous when I was about to have sex with someone, and this is that one moment.

Which is why the hands around Scarlett’s waist are fucking afraid to move. Physically, my body knows what to do; it’s my brain that’s giving me problems.