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Maison slides his tongue inside of Olivia’s mouth. She leans up and kisses him back, but cuts her eyes to Naomi and Serena, letting them know she’s still in the picture. Any tension she had earlier seems to have melted right off.

Maison—the fucking liar. He likely hit on Serena all day, as she watches them make out. Naomi sets her sights right on me as Ezra approaches and snakes his arm around her, pointedly ignoring me. Looks like he and Naomi are back together again, and it’s too fucking bad because Naomi’s also looking good in those cutoff shorts. Her hair is pulled back tight, and I can imagine yanking on her ponytail as I cum in her mouth, finally exposing this good-girl bullshit persona she puts on.

Damnit … now that I’ve had a drink, I’m fucking horny. Maybe I can convince Naomi to sneak away with me. That should piss Ezra right off, and I can finally see what I can make Naomi do for me.

Maison pulls himself off Olivia and shifts his body toward me. He slaps me on the shoulder. “You even got Mr. No Fun to have a drink. Well done, baby.”

She looks at me and smiles—that fucking smile. “Micah and I were just getting to know each other a bit.”

If Maison sensed anything between us, he doesn’t let it show. Instead, he pulls out more booze and heads toward the backyard where the sun is still blazing down outside where my parents have a pool and a whole bar set up. “Good. Glad he’s here instead of the gym for once. Looks like we’re going to have a party today since our parents are gone for the weekend.”

Olivia jumps up and follows him. Right before she leaves the room, she swivels her head to look at me. For once, I can’t read her face, and I can always read chicks’ faces. Did I imagine her flirting with me? Was that flirting? I could cut the tension between us with a fucking knife—and it wasn’t the bad kind of tension either. This girl is a queen between the sheets. That lazy fuck I gave her a couple weeks ago isn’t even half of what this chick can take. I know it. Those were sexy eyes she just gave me.

I tense my jaw, watching them outside as she settles between Maison’s legs in a pool lounger. My stomach tenses at the sight of it, however, I can’t be jealous right now. Envious—yes. Jealous—no. This girl was never mine. But damn, all I can think of now is how fucking sexy that number ten is on her back.

Chapter Three

Our day party died out pretty early with most people passing out or heading to our theater room to watch a movie. With our parents away, more people came over for a low-key get-together, which turned into a complete booze fest.

I sat back on a pool chair and relaxed for most of it and watched the pretty girls in the pool strutting by me, trying to focus my attention on anybody but the one blonde I shouldn’t be looking at. The one who’s become a permanent fixture in my brain since our conversation and her blatant flirting with me this afternoon.

Yeah, she was flirting. No question in my mind.

Something’s changed. The subtleties of her body language today differ from usual. She sat by the pool, tilting her head and arching her back. Even when she slipped her tongue in Maison’s mouth and pressed her tits into him every chance she could, she still made sure I was watching. Her gaze lingered on me longer than it should have.

Don’t worry. I’m looking at you, sweetheart.

But she’s my brother’s girlfriend—this is fucked up. She’s not acting right. Even if Maison’s eyes wander, too, they are still together. She shouldn’t be paying this much attention to me.

Now I can’t sleep—not at all. I stare up out my window at the full moon and cloudless night and the row of fir trees that line my front lawn. It’s well past midnight. Naomi slipped into my room earlier after Ezra passed out, and I let her cuddle with me for a bit as she asked me endless questions about hockey and what my plans were after high school. I didn’t push her to do anything more but kiss. I couldn’t bring myself to fuck her yet, so we made out for a few minutes feeling mighty fucking proud of myself knowing her dick boyfriend was in the bedroom down the hall passed out because he can’t handle his alcohol.

All the girls I want to have sex with are taken, and all I can really think of is Olivia and how badly I want to slide my dick into her again. My chest tightens, which is a sign I need to get rid of my pent-up energy and sweat out whatever alcohol is still in my system from earlier.

So, I head downstairs for a midnight workout, which isn’t unusual for me. What is unusual is when I jog up the stairs when I’m done and she’s there. All five-ten of Olivia’s gorgeous body sitting on the kitchen island eating a sandwich. A jar of peanut butter and jelly strewn beside her legs as they hang over the side. The light is dim, only the lights on the backsplash from the wall are on behind her; shadows cast over her face. I pause and meet her eyes.

She’s wearing my fucking jersey again.

She doesn’t look surprised to see me as she takes a bite of her sandwich, licking the bit that falls out the side, drawing my attention right to her lips.

“Is Maison passed out?” I ask her, keeping my tone steady, even though my blood runs straight to my dick.

She nods and swallows her bite of the sandwich.

I fill my water and chug it, wiping the sweat from my brow from my workout. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

She scoffs and places down her sandwich, swaying a little. “Come on, Micah. Cut the shit.”

It was too dim to notice earlier, but she’s still drunk. She sways a bit, and her eyes are always glassy when she drinks. I arch my brow and take a couple of steps toward her. “What shit are you referring to? I have a lot of it.”

Her eyes zone in on me. “The shit where you pretend you don’t find me attractive. I see the way you look at me.”

Brazen and beautiful.

I shrug. “So, what if I do? You have a boyfriend, Olivia. I can hear him snoring as we speak.”

Our eyes meet, and we engage in a stare-off. I finally shift my gaze down her torso to her jersey—my jersey. Her long, smooth, sexy legs crossed at the ankle, which she happily opens, inviting me in. She knows what she’s fucking doing.

I step toward her and lean in. If it’s games she wants, games she will get. I press my hands down on either side of her. She flinches, but she lifts her legs and wraps them around me—just like the first night.