Page 84 of Yours to Keep
What a jerk.
Oh, two can play at that game, you fucker.
I was just about to go find my own pair when his phone rang. He smirked at me and answered. “Deck.”
His voice dropped slightly.
I smiled into my coffee. CJ caught me staring and gave me a look as I heard Deck say something on the other end.
CJ just responded, “Never.”
He looked at me, his eyes trailing down to my visibly hard dick, and I watched as his tongue peeked out to lick his bottom lip.
“What is Finn doing at your place?” CJ asked Deck into the phone.
I looked down and saw the very clear, hard imprint tenting CJ’s sweatpants. I moaned quietly and took a step forward.
“Sounds good. See you then,” CJ said into the line.
He hung up and shook his head, walking over to take his mug back from my hand. He took a sip while maintaining direct eye contact. “Get ready, Baby Boy,” he said.
I blinked. “For what?”
“We’re going out.”
“Out?”
He nodded. “With Finn and Deck. Food, drinks, pool. Maybe dancing.” He checked the time. “You have an hour.”
I stared at him for a second too long, then reached up and kissed him again. My hands moved to his hips, and my hard dick brushed against his, pulling a low groan from him.
He deepened the kiss, owning my mouth, and then just as suddenly, he broke it off and stepped back. The warmth vanished, CJ’s iron self-control snapping back into place.
“Get ready, Baby Boy,” he said, his voice calm again, even if his breathing wasn’t. He was panting hard.
I swallowed hard, trying to catch my breath while still feeling the echo of him on my lips. I turned away and headed down the hallway, acutely aware of my very hard dick and what would have happened if Deck hadn’t called.
Deck.
What a fucking cock-blocker.
21
CJ
By the time Deck called, I was seconds away from dragging Eli into my room and losing the last shred of control I had left.
The way he smiled over my coffee mug. His fingers brushing against me. The way he looked at me like I was worth wanting.
And that kiss on the pier.
Fuck.
I had spent three years convincing myself that part of me died with Charlie: that I was fine existing in the quiet, numb space between surviving and living. Then Eli walked into my life with those sad eyes, that broken smile, and my fucking coffee mug in his hand, and somehow, those walls started coming down.
“Bar,” Deck said through the line.
I looked over at Eli, still standing there holding my mug, looking entirely too pleased with himself, and like he wanted me to drag him back to my room just as much as I wanted to.
