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4. Jamie

4

JAMIE

“I think these will work better than my knife.”

I looked up from where I’d been staring at the floor as Isaac came into my room, a pair of kitchen shears in his hand.

Hopefully he hadn’t noticed how distracted I’d been since he’d saved me in the bathroom. I’d hoped that sticking around and hanging out with the guys for a while would help me get over my weirdness, but all it did was give me more time to obsess over our sort of, but not really, kiss.

“Definitely better than a pocketknife,” I agreed.

He came to stand in front of me, his expression guarded. “Do you want to do it?”

I shook my head. “It’ll be easier if you do it.”

Liar .

I ignored the little voice in my head calling me out. It would be easier, but that wasn’t the reason I suggested it.

Something about watching Isaac cut me out of the shirt, seeing how careful he’d been, how gentle, had shaken something loose inside me.

I didn’t get to see Isaac’s tender side often. No one did. He had a giant heart and was one of the kindest people I knew, but he covered it up with sarcasm and bravado because it was safer than letting people see the real him.

The little glimpses of his softer side always felt like a gift, like I was getting to share a part of him no one else did. It made me feel special, and I liked it way too much.

Those usual feelings had been multiplied by about one hundred earlier, and I still had no idea why.

“At least I’ve got more room to move now.” He cracked a smile that didn’t reach his eyes and snipped the scissors a few times. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

I couldn’t look away as he meticulously cut through the shirt, moving in a straight line up my stomach and chest and shearing through each individual strip of material before moving to the next.

He had to lean in for a better look when he got close to the neckline. My brain went fuzzy and my nerves a bit haywire from his proximity.

Something about his closeness was fucking with me.

The heat from his body, his soft breaths moving over my skin, his gentle touch, and the focused look in his eyes were intense in a way that didn’t make any sense.

My body was hyperaware, my skin almost buzzing with energy as my lips tingled. Memories of the sort-of kiss flooded my senses, leaving me feeling even more off-kilter and raw, like I’d been flayed open, my every thought and feeling written over my head in neon script.

I still didn’t know what exactly happened. All the pulling and tugging on the shirt had made breathing harder, but it was being squished into the tiny stall with Isaac that had created the worst of my discomfort, and it had nothing to do with the shirt and everything to do with him.

The grunts and little noises that slipped out as he’d tugged on the material reminded me of the soft pleasure sounds he’d made during our threesome, and especially when he’d come.

Watching Isaac come had been as confusing as it was sexy. Seeing the heat in his eyes go from intense to almost desperate had affected me more than I’d ever admit.

But it was the moment he tipped over the edge that I couldn’t get out of my head.

Seeing his big, powerful body stiffen, his expression shifting from pleasure-slack to surprised as he let out a shuddering groan that sounded restrained, like he’d held back and hadn’t allowed himself to fully let go.

I wasn’t supposed to know what my best friend looked like when he came. I never should have been staring into his eyes when it happened, and I sure as hell shouldn’t have come too, my thoughts only on him and not on the girl we were supposed to be focused on.

Thank fuck April hadn’t noticed any of what went down that night. She’d left our apartment happy and smiling, raving about our skills and wearing a pair of my old flip-flops because she couldn’t find her other heel, the one that had been jammed under the couch.

The only two people who knew just how weird things got were me and Isaac. I’d had a week to get over it, but I couldn’t.

Things had gone back to normal pretty fast, but I couldn’t be sure if that was because we were both trying so hard to pretend like everything was fine or if that was just me and Isaac really was fine while I felt like my world was falling apart.

“Just a little more,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that hit me straight in the gut.

Why did that tone affect me so much? And why the hell did I have butterflies in my stomach from it?

I held still so he wouldn’t accidentally stab me with the scissors, memories of the kiss playing through my mind on a loop, even as I tried like hell to think about something—anything—else.

I had no idea how it happened. I’d had my eyes closed, mostly from the relief of being able to pull in a full breath again but also because I’d needed a second to compose myself and tell my nervous system to stop getting excited that Isaac was touching me.

I’d leaned in, and while I hadn’t been thinking about kissing him, the actual kiss hadn’t surprised me or freaked me out nearly as much as it should have.

My first thought hadn’t been Holy shit, I’m kissing my best friend . It had been more like I’m kissing my best friend ?

The contact was brief, more like we’d bumped lips than an actual kiss, but it was enough to send a shiver of awareness through me, and under the shock was excitement.

Had I unconsciously kissed him? Had he kissed me? Or had it been an accident because of the small space we’d been crammed into?

Still not sure what was going on in my head, I traced my gaze over Isaac’s face while he was busy focusing on what he was doing.

He had his thinking face on, the one where he poked the tip of his tongue between his lips. That was the face he made when he was deep in concentration.

Isaac was hot. You didn’t have to be into guys to think so. His dark hair was thick and soft, framing his face in the same style as mine, with the sides cut short and the top longer. His eyes were one of his best features because of how intense they could be, and he had an incredible smile.

He also radiated confidence and could command a room without trying. He was fun to be around and didn’t take things too seriously.

It was kind of funny that people sometimes thought we were brothers or other close relatives because of how similar we looked. We were almost the same size, only Z’s arms were bigger because he worked a manual job and I stood behind a desk all day. His hair was dark brown, and mine was a few shades lighter. His eyes were dark blue, while mine were light blue, and his features were sharper and more refined since I’d never fully lost the fullness in my cheeks that gave me a bit of a baby face.

His body was incredible, chiseled and perfect, even after a month of not hitting the gym regularly. I was already getting soft around the middle thanks to my sedentary job, while he could still put most fitness influencers to shame.

While it was true he was gorgeous and fit, it was his ability to flip between happy-go-lucky fun guy and smolder-until-your-undies-melt hottie that drew people to him. He knew how to use his looks to his advantage, but he wasn’t arrogant or an ass about it.

My gaze was drawn to his hands as he gently tugged the neckline of the bet shirt away from my skin to cut through it.

He had nice hands with wide palms and long, thick fingers. He didn’t have a lot of body hair, even with his darker coloring, and the fine spattering on his arms was strangely interesting.

I knew exactly how strong his hands were and how rough the calluses on them could feel, but right then, his touch was whisper soft and so gentle it was messing with me.

Tearing my eyes from his hands, I stared over his shoulder, picking a random spot on the wall and memorizing everything about it so I wouldn’t keep thinking about his hands or his touch.

“There.” He let out a heavy-sounding sigh as he cut through the neckline. The shirt snapped back around my armpits now that the tension was gone. “Better?”

I nodded, not trusting my voice. I also resisted the urge to pull in another deep breath because of what happened last time and instead flexed my shoulders and back to stretch out my chest.

He cleared his throat and dropped his gaze to my left arm.

“I’ll just…” He motioned to the sleeve with the scissors.

They were much easier to cut since the thin strips were in a wide checker pattern, like fishnet stockings.

I held still as he snipped through first the left sleeve, then the right, going all the way up over the shoulder so the shirt fell off me and fluttered to the floor.

My breath caught as he gently traced the tip of one finger over one of the many red marks imprinted on my skin.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, his voice as soft as his touch.

“It’s fine,” I rasped, unable to say more.

He lifted his eyes to mine, and the intensity of them made my breathing hitch and my stomach flip-flop.

Isaac’s eyes were one of his best features, and not only because of the incredible color that shifted between navy and azure depending on his mood.

They were incredibly intense, and he could make someone feel like they were the only person in the room, even the world, when he focused on them.

His gaze softened in an instant, and he stepped back, dropping his hand.

The prickle of disappointment at the loss of his touch confused the hell out of me. So did noticing how the spot he’d touched went from hot to cold the second he pulled away.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

Nothing about tonight was different for us. He’d never had to cut me out of my shirt before, but less than two months ago, we’d taken a shower together to scrub off some stubborn body paint that wasn’t as washable as the package claimed.

We’d stood under the water laughing and joking about how purple we were, and there had been none of this weird energy between us, even when we’d ended up having a soap fight and pawed at each other to get the other covered in suds.

Was all this from the threesome? Had it messed me up so badly that I couldn’t separate Isaac being Isaac from the man I’d been so mesmerized by that night?

“Thanks,” I said belatedly.

“Pretty sure you don’t have to thank me for saving you from the situation I put you in.” He scooped up the ruined shirt. “I’ll get rid of this.”

I paused, my throat tightening at how awkward things felt.

“Gym tomorrow morning?” he asked.

“Yeah.” I nodded. “Can you make sure I’m up by nine?”

“Yup.” He shifted from foot to foot. “Do you want to take a shower?”

“Yeah.”

“Kay, you go first. I’ll go when you’re done.”

I nodded again, not sure what to say.

“Night.” He shot me a quick smile.

“Night,” I echoed as he darted out of my room, closing the door behind him.

Woodenly, I pulled off the rest of my clothes and grabbed a pair of sleep pants and an old tee.

Usually I’d just bundle up my clothes and use them to hide my junk as I ran into the bathroom, but I didn’t feel comfortable doing that after everything that happened tonight.

Instead, I pulled on the clothes and headed into the bathroom, grateful when I heard music coming from under Isaac’s closed door.

On autopilot, I started the water and once again pulled off my clothes. The water usually needed a minute to get hot, and I took a second to check my reflection.

The web of lines in my skin was already fading. A few of them were still red and angry looking, but most were barely a soft pink.

Trying not to think about anything other than getting clean so I could crawl into my bed and forget all about tonight, I stepped into the shower, not bothering to wait until it was warm.

The cold water helped soothe the strange buzz that still simmered in the back of my mind and calmed my body enough that I could finally relax, the last of the tension bleeding out of me.

Closing my eyes, I tipped my head back and let the water run over my face as I ran my fingers through my hair to break up the product I’d put in earlier.

When I was nice and wet, I washed my hair and then scrubbed down with my body wash.

My hand brushed against my dick, and the jolt of pleasure that shot up my spine nearly took my breath away.

My cock hardened, rising comically in front of me like a divining rod until it was rock hard and aching.

With a soft sigh, I circled my shaft with my hand and gave myself a few slow strokes, the body wash creating a slick passage as it mixed with my precum.

Deliberately clearing my mind, I kept stroking. Maybe an orgasm would help me sleep.

The pleasure inside me built with each pass of my hand, growing into something wild and desperate in a matter of seconds. That wasn’t normal for me. I wasn’t into edging, but I liked to take my time when I jerked, enjoying the ride as much as the big finish.

That wasn’t happening tonight, and soon I was fucking my fist, my other hand on the tiled wall of the shower to stay upright as my thighs trembled and my body shook.

The pressure inside me just kept building, getting more and more intense until my mind started to wander, cooking up a fantasy without my permission.

A hot mouth around my cock, a nimble tongue stroking my shaft as navy blue eyes stared up at me.

I came with a cry, my orgasm exploding out of me with so much force my hand slipped on the wall. My moan echoed in the bathroom, even over the sound of the water and overhead fan.

Still shaking from the force of my release, I worked my dick, riding the wave and shooting all over the shower wall.

When it was over and I could think again, I blinked open my eyes.

I was hunched over, my hand still on my spent dick, and my body weak from both relief and the aftershocks.

I’d just come to thoughts of Isaac blowing me.

I’d pictured my best friend on his knees for me, and I’d come harder than I had in what felt like forever.

Jesus Christ.

Shakily, I turned off the water and grabbed my towel, my mind spinning.

What the hell was wrong with me?

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