“Just say it,” he says and laughs again.
“No.”
“I’m just going to keep asking. Might as well—” I cut him off.
“Five months!” His jaw drops dramatically at my admission.
“You haven’t fucked anyone in five months?” he asks like we weren’t just talking about it. I give him a strained nod. “Shit, are you feeling alright?” James says next, raising the back of his hand to my forehead.
I smack it away before he can touch me.
“I’m fine, just off my game apparently,” I reply, my eyes drifting to wheremon angeis dancing with my sister.
“Something happened five months ago… remind me again what it was. That event that had you talking about a very specific woman and wanting to see her again,” he says with a smug smirk, tapping his chin like he’s thinking really hard about it.
Jerk.
“I met Nevaeh. Okay?” I say, taking a step toward him. I’m only slightly taller than him, but he’s wider than me, which is irritating when I’m trying to look intimidating. “I met Nevaeh, laid my eyes on her one fucking time, and now the only woman I want to touch is her. I don’t want to look at other women, and I sure as fuck don’t want them to touch me, not when my skin only buzzes from excitement from Nevaeh’s touch. There. Are you happy now?” I ask, breathing heavily after my rant.
I feel like sitting down. This admission doesn’t just catch my best friend off-guard. It has more panic washing through me.
I don’t want other women to touch me.
I don’t want to touch other women.
I haven’t had sex with anyone since I met Nevaeh.
I’m definitely going to be sick.
My head is spinning, trying to process all of this information even though it goes against my nature. I don’t get into relationships. I don’t date. I especially don’t pursue women who are off-limits because it’s way too complicated.
Why the hell does none of this apply to Nevaeh?
James pokes me in the forehead, forcing me back into the moment.
“What the hell was that for?” I ask, rubbing the sore spot.
“Just making sure you’re real,” he replies and picks up his beer again, taking a sip before he stares down at his phone. A picture of his son and him lights up the screen, and I watch his eyes soften.
“Adrian Romana?”Oh no.
“Melanie Whitehall,” I reply, forcing a smile. The short woman with black hair and clear blue eyes steps in front of me,
“How are you?” she asks, placing a kiss on each of my cheeks. I meet her halfway, hating the fact that my body fights me even more than it usually does.
Melanie is a very nice woman. Smart as hell, too. The problem is, we slept together two years ago, and then her father decided to invest in my team. This means, as much as I would like to avoid her to prevent complications, I see hera lotduring race weekends. And I don’t think she’s entirely over me yet.
And no, I know what you’re thinking.This isn’t me being my typical ‘everyone wants me’ version. This is just because she keeps making advances.
“I’m good. How are you?” I say, my eyes drifting to where Nevaeh, Val, and Scarlette have moved to, off the dance floor and closer to where I’m standing. Gabriel is with them, and Leonard and Chiara have rejoined them as well. I want to be overthere. I want to drape an arm around Nevaeh and hug her against my side so she can wrap her arms around me. I don’t want to talk to Melanie.
“I’ve missed you, handsome. Any chance you’ll let me buy you a drink?” she asks, running a hand down my chest.
Alarm bells go off in my head. A humorless laugh escapes me because I’ve never not enjoyed flirting with a woman I am or was attracted to.
This is new territory.
“No, but thank you for offering,” I reply. I reach for her wrist to gently remove her hand at the same moment someone clears their throat from behind Melanie.
