Page 7

“Start this,” she whispers.

Come back to me, baby.That’s my only thought, but it doesn’t surface into words. They don’t fall from my lips and leave her with a decision. I hold them hostage like she does my heart. “I’m not starting anything.” My voice lowers to more than a whisper. It’s a mumble, slow, sleepy. I’m restricted in my breaths, pulled under and drowning. “I’m just asking when you stopped loving me.”

And then comes the truth. “I never did.”

My heart flips and my lips lift at the corners. I think of her cheeks, and I bet they’re past flushed. They’re fire and cherry red, waiting on my words. I grant them. “That makes two of us. But it seems to me you made your decision.”

“Why are you acting surprised? I’ve been dating Griff for two years.”

“Griff,” I snort. Two years? Hmm. Do you know why I find this piece of information interesting? Back of the Impala, remember? “What kind of name is Griff?”

“There’s nothing wrong with his name. You’re just looking for something to pick apart.” There’s a tsk. A click of her tongue in annoyance. “Why are you being so mean?”

“I’m drunk,” I tease, laughter on my lips. I shift in the bed and tuck one arm behind my head. “Don’t you remember?”

“Oh, I remember.” Her voice is soft, like it was when she whispered, “Please,” in the barn when I took her virginity at fifteen.

“Ah, see you remember, darlin’.” I let my Southern charm shine, and smile. “You miss me and you know it.” My accent works in my favor when I whisper, “And I bet you think of the way my fingertips trailing up your spine feels when the sun comes up, don’t you?”

Nothing but that careful breathing pattern again. She swallows, her breaths heavier with an unsettled sigh. “Jace….”

My cock twitches and I slide my hand inside the front of my jeans, palming my erection. “That’s how you said my name when I licked your pussy.”

“Oh my God…” She moans, fucking moans, and I slide my hand over my cock, once, twice, and straighten my legs, savoring the feeling. My lashes flutter and I think about finishing with her on the phone. “What are we doing?”

“Is he there?” I ask, knowing he’s not. She wouldn’t have answered if he had been.

She breathes slowly. Another swallow. “No.”

“Turn it to FaceTime.”

“Jace….”

I know what desire sounds like on her lips. I bet her skin is flushed, her legs parting, anticipating my next move. “Come on, let me see your pretty face.” I grunt, letting a growl slip from my lips. “I bet I can get you off without even touching you.”

“I uh….”

“Don’t say no. Just let me see your—”

Before I get the words out, she fucking hangs up on me again. What the fuck?

And then my phone beeps with the FaceTime call.

Abbi would like to FaceTime.

I slide my finger over the screen with a smile. There’s heat in her cheeks as she slowly blinks.

“I miss you,” I tell her, and pan the phone down further to where I have my hand inside my jeans. I stroke myself beneath the denim and angle the phone back to my face. Oh yeah, she’s watching with rapt attention. Look at her posture and her tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip. That’s what desire looks like, and she wears it so fucking well. “Do you believe me?”

Her lashes flutter, her bottom lip drawn into her mouth as she shifts on the bed, and I see the faintest glimpse of cleavage. “You’re impossible.”

“Not to think of.” I hum and grip my cock a little harder, groaning. “And darlin’, that look right there, it tells me you have no business getting married when I’m the one you want.”

There’s a noise in the background on her end. “Shit,” she mumbles. “I have to go.” And then hangs up on me.

Click.

Damn it. Disappointment racks through me. Withdrawing my hand from my jeans, I let the phone go and stare up at the ceiling, my breathing evening out. Setting the phone on the nightstand, I glance at the invitation again. That should be my name on it next to hers, and if I had any amount of goddamn guts, it would be.