I stew on Maxwell’s words. From what Iris told me, it sure sounds like Kirk moved on before they even split. Plus, she has invited me into her home and practically cooks for me every night, while my so-called friend hasn’t even made an effort to check on me. Truth be told, she’s turning out to be a better friend than he ever was.
“I see those wheels spinning, Kingston,” Jace laughs.
I shake my head, beer and confusion slowing my thoughts. “It’s just…she’s not the person I thought she was. We never got along back when she was with Kirk. She was just this uppity girl. But, I don’t know…maybe that’s just what I wanted to see.”
Normally, I don’t get all sappy, but after weeks of forced solitude, I’m practically itching to spill my guts to these guys. And the alcohol isn’t helping with my filter, either.
“Even back then, I could see how shitty my friend treated her. He broke her heart, more than once, and it’s not fucking right. He had it all. Iris may have looked at me with disdain and reserve, but she treated her boyfriend like a goddamn king. She was the perfect fucking girlfriend. Always went out of her way to make sure he was happy. To make sure he was fed before games. To make sure he made it to practice and class on time.” I tip back my beer and down it, before slamming the empty bottle on the table. “And to thank her, Kirk sticks his dick in someone else.”
“Damn…” I hear Knox mumble.
“Then I say the bro code is null, void and without effect,” Maxwell throws up his hands and declares.
“And I’m sure you could think of a way to fix that broken heart. Right, Kingston?” Jace makes some lewd hand movements that break the serious atmosphere.
Iris Merlini has obviously been through a lot, and the more I see her, the more I see how kind-hearted she is. I’m starting to question whether she actually was a cold ice queen who hated my guts in college or whether she was just a shy, insecure girl trying to protect her own feelings and save her relationship, while we were too busy partying and balling to take notice.
My loyalty to Kirk is wavering. If he was so rotten to his wife, does he deserve my steadfast, brotherly allegiance? A loud voice in my drunken head is demanding to declare mutiny on his cheating ass.
But why am I so hung up on Iris? Of all women? For heaven’s sake, she’s obviously playing the field. She was on a date with that weird guy at the restaurant and when that fell apart, she and I had a ‘moment’ in the hallway outside her bedroom.
The kiss tilted my universe, shifted my paradigm but it obviously did nothing for her because within the hour, she was on the phone talking dirty with somebody else.
The thought of her with yet another assface who won’t appreciate her makes me territorial as hell. She doesn’t need some guy who doesn’t know how to treat her, who’ll only see her as a hook-up or a booty call. Iris deserves better. She always has.
But she’s a single woman. If that’s how she wants to live, she has every right.
The cocksure, overconfident part of my brain intervenes right then, whispering in my ear. So what if she’s dating other people? I can compete with any guy she’s into….I’m Jude fucking Kingston. None of those jerks can take me on. And I’m not a man who was built to share. One night with me and she won’t want anyone else. I can guarantee that.
The women I’ve fucked act like I’m a god. If I’m being honest here, I’ve never complained about that. But I’m a guy who likes to occasionally work for it a little. And I’d work for Iris Merlini.
She’s a challenge. And I’ve never backed down from one of those.
Damn, I’m confident when I’m drunk…
By the time Maxwell’s SUV pulls up to the curb, my brain is paddling around in a lake of booze and lust and poor decisions waiting to happen. Seeing that I’m usually not a drinker, the few beers I had tonight hit me hard. As Knox and Jace are escorting my wasted ass up the pathway, I make a decision—a very drunk decision. A very bad drunk decision.
Tonight is the fucking night.
With a tight grip on the railing, I drag myself up the stairs. I position myself in front of her door. Feelin’ sexy, I finger-brush my hair and pop a stick of gum into my mouth. Oh yeah, baby.
Just as I lift my fist to knock, I hear…something. Fuck—is this girl having phone sex again?
Iris speaks in a voice so soft I have to press my ear up against the door to make sure I’m hearing her right. “…His pincer-like fingers wrap around my thighs and I tilt my pelvis forward, desperate for contact,” she whispers in a breathy tone. “My Master watches me with a possessive glint in his telescopic eyes…”
What the…?
“He runs the tip of one scale-covered tentacle along the lips of my pussy…”
How fucking drunk am I?
“A strained sound breaks past my Master’s fish-like lips…”
Dude…
On second thought, maybe I can’t compete with the guys she’s into. This girl is into some freaky shit and I don’t think I can hang. I should probably just turn my drunk ass around and head straight for my own bed.
But my coordination is off, as is my sense of direction. I stagger and my ass hits the door. Hard. The door swings open and I stumble right through. I trip on the cat who
