24. Lucas

Iflip over onto my stomach, burying my face in my pillow. A frustrated grunt lodges in my throat.

What the hell time is it, even?

I clench the sides of the pillow and shove them tight against my temple, but it doesn't block out the images of Jase dancing through my mind.

Why, goddammit? Why?

I made a smart fucking choice by leaving. Jase was vulnerable, hurt, and humiliated after being gutted by that asshole Trevor. He needed a distraction, and I was it. He knows how I feel about him, and he wanted to exploit that to keep his mind occupied so he wouldn't have to think about his own pain.

That's all. He didn't really want me… no matter what he said, no matter what he convinced himself of.

So why have I been tossing and turning since I collapsed into my bed hours and hours ago? Why can't I shake the feeling that maybe there was something more behind his invitation, that maybe I made a mistake by turning down the very thing I've been fantasizing about for weeks?

I pound my fist on the mattress, then flip onto my back. A deep sigh expels from my lips and I reach for my phone on the nightstand.

Enough, for fuck's sake.

I have responsibilities, big ones. A social worker who wants to take break up my family. Oh yeah, and a brother who wants to see me go down in flames and lose everything I have so he called CPS to rat me out.

God, I could have used a good dicking, now that I think about it.

I switch on my phone and furrow my brows. I'd created a Google alert to let me know about any articles, blog posts, or other fabricated bullshit that's been posted about me and sure enough, there are notifications galore streaming across my screen.

I grit my teeth and click on one of them. It's a blog post covering our scrimmage at Project Renewal. Anger eats at me when I think about the posturing Trevor did to pull the wool over the eyes of those reporters. Showing up like a proud parent while we were working with the kids. Bringing all those reporters down to the shelter so they could exploit us and the kids for their own benefit.

Hell, if they wanted to improve the perception of themselves, Reed and Trevor should have been out there with us instead of using us and the kids as props in their philanthropy.

I always hated people who threw lots of cash at charity organizations and called themselves philanthropists. They'd more accurately call themselves delusional because real philanthropy means getting your hands dirty and jumping in to actually do good, not pay for someone else to do it for you.

Staying here in Cincinnati was the right move for my family, but I fucking hate being part of a team headed up by people like the Hoffmans. And over the past few weeks, Reed Hoffman's true colors have really shone through. I used to think the real cocksucker in the family was Trevor. But I've seen that the grape doesn't fall far from the vine in the Hoffman family.

An icy hand clenches my heart. Pretty soon, I might not have to worry about playing for that guy anymore. Except this time I won't have any leverage to negotiate a new deal for myself. I'll be at everyone's mercy.

I scroll through the article until I come to a photo of Jase. My breath catches as I stare at his profile. His lips are lifted into a wide smile, his blue eyes gleaming despite the shadow cast by his baseball cap, his strong, stubbled jaw relaxed.

He's fucking gorgeous.

I scrub a hand down the front of my face.

I made the right fucking choice.

But the pang in my groin tells me my cock doesn't agree.

Slipping a hand under the blanket, I narrow my eyes at Jase's face.

He's too broken. He doesn't want fixing. He needs something I can't give him.

I toss my phone on the bed and grasp my hard cock, letting my eyes droop closed. Sucking in a breath, I conjure up the image of his face, the lustful look in his eyes before he kissed me a couple of weeks ago. My finger slides over the tip, slick with precum.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Why do I have to pine for him, of all people?

With his hard body, perfect cock, and smart-ass mouth?

I also have issues and baggage that obviously rivals Jase's.

The tang of his cum on my tongue is branded into my memory. I can almost taste it now.

I pump my cock harder and faster.

The way he thrust his hips against my lips, the way he moaned with every suck, nip, and tug of my mouth?—

My ringer blares out and I drop my cock with a gasp, fumbling to grab the phone so the obnoxious sound doesn't wake anyone. I must've forgotten to turn it off before I drifted into never-never land, which is kind of apropos considering it was Jase I was thinking about.

Never, never.

Never fucking ever.

I stab the Accept button without even registering who's calling or that it was a video call. My heart leaps into my throat when Jase's face appears.

"Hey," he says in a husky voice. "You there? I can't see you."

I sit straight up in my bed and reach over to flip on a light. "Yeah, I'm here." Pause. "What do you want, Jase?"

"To talk to you."

"Couldn't it wait till morning?" I stare out the window next to my bed, darkness staring back.

"No."

I lean back against my headboard and run a hand through my hair, my pulse still jabbing against the side of my throat. A heavy, deep ache in my blue balls makes me cringe.

How's that for irony?

A hand job interrupted by the same guy who inspired it.

"Okay, what do you want to talk about?" I squint at the screen. "And where are you, anyway?"

"I'm outside your front door."

Again, I shoot up. "What the hell are you doing here? Do you even know what time it is?"

I mean, I don't, but it has to be late. Or ass-crack early.

"I told you, I want to talk."

"Modern technology gives us the ability to do that without having to get in a car—wait, how'd you even get here? You can't drive."

"I Ubered." His lips curl upward. "And here I am. Now are you gonna let me in or should I go back home?"

"Yeah, hang on. I'll be right there." I click to end the call and drop my phone onto the mattress.

Holy fuck.

I manifested him. As I was jacking myself. This isn't good.

Scrambling over the side of the bed, I pull on a pair of basketball shorts and run my hands through my hair. Bed head from rolling all over the freaking place… because of him.

My eyes drop to the screen. It's three a.m.

With a thundering heart, I pad down the hallway. The kids' rooms are upstairs, and they sleep like rocks, so I know they won't even stir.

Thankfully. Because how the hell would I explain this?

I pull open the door, finding Jase lounging against the wall across from me. His lips lift into a lazy grin, his hair hanging over one eye. With a sweep of his hand, he pushes it back and then walks over to me with a slow swagger that makes my knees weak.

He looks like a guy who knows what he wants and is seconds away from taking it.

My dick aches, twitching in my shorts.

"How did you get up here?"

Jase flashes me a lazy grin. "Signed a couple of autographs."

Shifting slightly so he can't see the fucking raging boner in my pants, I lift an eyebrow. "It's the middle of the night. What did you want to talk about now that couldn't have waited a few hours?"

"Technically, it's really early in the morning."

I roll my eyes. "Semantics. Most normal people are sleeping right now."

"You're up."

My jaw drops. "Yeah, because you called me."

He nods. "I had to tell you something. Kept me up all night."

A fluttering sensation in my stomach follows those words.

No, no, no. It's just more manipulation because of his emotional incompetence. Don't fall for it. Don't let him see through you, dammit.

Jase takes another step closer, and I shift farther to the side, pressing my legs together.

"So here's the thing. I know that everything you said before was true. My head is a mess. I'm nervous. Afraid. And I know I need to figure some stuff out. A lot of stuff." Jase runs a hand through his thick hair. "It's not fair to you. But I still can't get you out of my head. I tried. I cooked. Watched television. Worked out really hard. Gave myself a million distractions."

He shakes his head, stepping closer. "Nothing worked because all I could see in front of me was you and what I'd be missing if I fucked up and let you go again."

When Jase finally stops talking, he realizes that I'm facing practically backward trying to keep the tent in my pants out of his sight. And it's harder now because of everything he just said and everything I'm doing to him in my mind because of it.

"Why can't you look at me?"

I grit my teeth. "I can't?—"

Jase's gaze drops to my shorts. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his gaze darken.

"What were you doing when I called?" His voice is low, suspicious. Maybe a little angry. "Were you fucking someone?"

I gape at him, turning my head fully in his direction. "You just FaceTimed me in my fucking room. You couldn't see I was alone?"

He shrugs. "Maybe he was in the bathroom. Or maybe you held the phone close enough to your face that I wouldn't be able to see him."

"If I had been fucking someone, I wouldn't have answered my phone. Plus, why the hell would you even care?" I ask in a loud whisper. "I've practically thrown myself at you plenty over the past few weeks and you've done an about-face every time."

"Not today."

"Great. So today, when you were down and out, you decided, hey, fucking Lucas may actually be a good idea now because I need a distraction."

He balks at that. "I never said I wanted a distraction."

"Yes," I rasp. "You did before?—"

"For a smart guy, you don't listen too good." He reaches a hand out and grasps my shoulder, guiding me close. The static that shoots through my skin at his touch is more than my dick can take. "I said I needed a distraction from you, not for you to be a distraction."

Okay, I guess that's true. But sue me, my nuts are so constricted right now. I can barely breathe, much less think.

Then he reaches for my cock, cupping the swollen length over my shorts. Christ, I could come right now just from him palming me over the fabric.

"Tell me what got you so hard, Lucas." His eyes are half-hooded, his lips brushing against my ear. His hand moves to the back of my neck and squeezes. "If you weren't fucking anyone, who were you thinking about fucking?"