Page 10 of The Substitute (New York Gods #4)

TEN

TOBI

Instead of studying in the quiet while Ambrose is at practice, I fall asleep.

It’s a restless, lust-filled sleep that leaves me aching.

Flashes of tattooed hands on my skin and whispered words that are just out of reach.

It’s not one of them, but both and it leaves me restless.

I have no right to be lusting after Savage or Ambrose.

Stupid brain putting ideas in my dreams that I don’t need. That will only end with me fucked up.

I realize I woke up to my phone vibrating. It’s pitch black but Ambrose still isn’t back. I grab it but can’t read the screen. Fucking glasses are the worst. Why did I have to be born with eyes that don’t do their only job?

Savage: Has he circled you three times and pissed on you yet?

Tobi: What?

My brain is too foggy to figure out what he’s talking about.

Savage: Marking his territory.

I blink at the screen, still trying to figure out what the hell he’s on about. I’m so confused.

Tobi: I’m not awake enough to understand what you’re talking about

Savage: Ambrose being jealous you were with me.

Tobi: Oh, he’s definitely mad. Not jealous tho

Savage: Of course he is, but you knew that was going to happen.

Tobi: Did I?

Savage: If you didn’t, you haven’t been paying attention.

I don’t think I have the brain power for this conversation. He’s just mad I hung out with Savage because he hates his step-brother. Right?

Tobi: Paying attention to what?

Savage: That he hates me and everything that has to do with me so his new friend isn’t allowed to like me.

Tobi: He’s my roommate and I can like whoever I want

Savage: He doesn’t see it that way or he wouldn’t be so jealous.

Tobi: He’s not jealous.

There is no way Ambrose cares that much. He just wants to fix me. He’ll get bored soon enough.

Savage: He absolutely is. If you want to really see him lose it, you’ll go on a date with me.

Tobi: A date?

Savage: Yes, a date. You’re familiar with the concept?

Obviously, I know what a damn date is, but I’ve never been on one…

Tobi: Obviously

Savage: Then why the confusion?

Tobi: Because I’m me and you’re you?

Savage: And?

Tobi: Are you just trying to piss your brother off?

Savage: I don’t have to try to piss him off. I wouldn’t spend time with you if I didn’t want to. Pissing him off is a bonus.

I roll my eyes, but a smile tugs on my lips. Okay, fine, it’s nice to be flirted with, I can admit that to myself. Especially when the guy is huge and hot and can probably toss me around like a rag doll. A shudder springs up my spine, and I bite my lip.

The door to the common room opens, and then Ambrose is striding into our room, already pulling clothes off and tossing them. Once he’s down to just his shorts he looks at me for long enough that I’m uncomfortable.

“Did you lose something over here? Am I wearing your shirt?” I sass him, needing something to break the tension.

“You would look better in one of mine…”

“What? Why would you think that?” I look down at myself.

“Actually, that’s a great way to start over.” He strides to his dresser and opens a drawer to dig around.

What the hell?

Savage: He came home didn’t he? Don’t worry, it doesn’t detour me.

Tobi: Yes, your brother is confusing me.

Savage: Look at you using your words like a smart boy.

Savage: Confusing you how?

Tobi: Something about a hoodie.

Savage: I’m going to kill him.

Tobi: someone needs to fill me in.

Savage: He shouldn’t be touching you.

Tobi: He hasn’t touched me…

Savage: Yet.

That should not make my stomach flutter with heat.

Nope.

I start to reply, but Ambrose flips around, holding a hoodie this time.

“Take it off.”

I raise an eyebrow at him. “Excuse me?”

“Your shirt. Off. We’re having a pajama party and getting to know each other so you have to be comfy.”

“What?” I ask.

He stares at me not saying anything.

I look at my shirt, then back at him. “What’s wrong with my shirt?”

“Because mine is better and I know how much you like over sized hoodies.” He holds out a massive hoodie that says something about hockey on it, and I shake my head. “And I think you’ll like it.”

“Absolutely not.” My cheeks heat and I hug my arms around myself.

“Why not?” He comes forward and looms over me.

He’s not exactly a small man, and all those muscles have to be good for more than just playing sports ball.

Sports puck? Doesn’t matter. He’s standing in our room, next to my bed, in only thin basketball shorts.

And from what I can tell, he’s a shower, not a grower, because if he got any bigger, he would be a destroyer.

I like looking at hime way too much and he’s going to notice. I cannot take being rejected again. How am I going to stand looking at him shirtless for the rest of the year?

“Seriously, what is your issue with clothes?” My face is on fire, but I don’t let it stop the snark.

“They suck. If I didn’t have roommates, I would be naked twenty-four-seven.” His words make me wish he was naked and I don’t even know how to unpack that. I don’t like hockey players.

“You can do whatever you want but why do I need to change?”

“Because you’ve been in the same clothes for two days, and this is a pajama party. Duh.”

“Okay.” I reach for the hoodie but he shakes his head. “What?”

“I’m doing it for you.” He puts on knee on the bed next to me.

“Do you really want to spend time with me that badly?” I ask, unable to believe it.

“Yes. I told you why. Now, take your shirt off.”

Well, that’s both enticing and not. Is he really jealous I’m studying with Savage? What is there to be jealous about?

Probably the same shit you’re jealous of with Rhys and Teddy, you hypocrite.

That’s not exactly true.

Unless it is.

Does Ambrose have feelings for Savage? That could make this all make more sense…are they using me to get to each other? Do they have feelings for each other that they just don’t want to admit? Do I actually care?

Does Ambrose actually care? Is that why it bothers him that I spent some time with his step-brother?

I doubt he actually wants anything from me.

I’m a fucking disaster. He clearly doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into.

Everyone gets tired of me, eventually. It’s a recurring theme in my life.

Once my usefulness is overshadowed by my insecurities, they leave. Every. Time.

Yet sometimes I could swear he looks at me like he wants to lick me. Or hug me. Maybe both?

“You agreed to start over.” Ambrose’s tone has dropped, and his breathing has deepened. What the hell? Is he really getting turned on by this? I’m so confused by this guy.

Did I agree? I guess I kinda did.

He shifts his weight on to the bed and leans his hands on either side of my hips.

Is he giving me ‘fuck me’ eyes? Since everything went down with Rhys and Teddy, my body shut down, but apparently, it’s waking up again, and I don’t know if I should be happy or angry about it.

Maybe what I need to get over it all is to get under someone else.

Have some boy’s dick factory reset my brain…

“Tobi—”

“I’m not wearing a hockey hoodie. No sports ball.”

“You’re just trying to see if I have a non sports ball hoodie, aren’t you? Challenge accepted.” He narrows his eyes, stares at my mouth for a minute, then shoves off the bed and returns to his dresser. I swear to fuck. He’s going to give me whiplash.

My cock is tenting my shorts, and I push against it, needing relief.

Fuck, between the two of them, I don’t know what to do with myself.

I close my eyes and try to think of chemical equations, covalent bonds, molecular structure.

It doesn’t work, and I whimper. I’m shaking with the need to come, and my fucking roommate won’t leave!

“Need a hand?” Ambrose’s tone makes me jump, and I find him staring at my groin.

“What!” I can’t believe he saw that. “No. I just need a minute.”

“No. Not until you’re in my hoodie.” He lifts up a gray one this time wearing a knowing smirk.

The hoodie has a high school name but says nothing about sports.

Hard and not sure how to even act, or be with a guy what so ever, I panic and rip off my shirt and reach for the one he has. He smiles in victory as I pull it on.

It’s huge. I’m basically wearing a potato sack. A circus tent, but it smells so good and I can pull my knees inside it unlike with my own. It’s amber, and fresh, and woody all mixed together. I shouldn’t like it this much.

“Are you serious?” I lift my hands in a ‘are you kidding me’ gesture, trying to pretend I hate it but my cheeks betray me.

“What? It looks good on you.” He drags his gaze down my front.

“It swallows me.” I squirm.

“I know. I like how much bigger I am than you.” His words make me blush harder, and before I realize what he’s doing, he takes a picture and winks. “For the spank bank.”

“Now can I have five minutes?” If I don’t do something I will end up doing something rash, or worse jumping him and making a fool of myself. I know that’s a bad idea.

He winks again and leaves, closing the door behind him. I sag onto the bed in relief, but it’s short-lived since my phone buzzes.

Savage: Wearing his clothes is only going to make him worse.

Tobi: how do you even know?

Savage: he sent me the picture.

Tobi: what why?

And why does that turn me on even more?

Savage: I told you, marking his territory.

This hoodie really does smell fantastic, though, and it’s not helping my dick situation. For fuck’s sake. I shouldn’t be surprised Ambrose sent Savage the picture. Is this payback for me going to study with Savage? Ambrose has to show him up with this?

Tobi: He’s pretty mad I studied with you.

Savage: I’ve noticed.

Tobi: What does that mean?

Savage: It means he came over to tell me just how upset about it he is.

Savage: He’s going off telling me to stay away from you.

Tobi: Really?

Savage: Yes, I will have to thank you properly for that

Savage: What is your schedule tomorrow?

Tomorrow? That means I have to shower again.

When was the last time I actually gave a shit about what I looked like?

Do I have anything that fits? Everything I’ve been wearing is baggy, and I haven’t been working out or eating…

at all…so I’ve lost weight. Fuck. Does it even matter?

This isn’t a real date. It’s just Savage trying to piss off Ambrose, and hopefully, it’ll work to get him to leave me alone.

A pit forms in my stomach, because I don’t really want them to, but I can hardly admit that to myself.

Savage: Come on, you were doing so well with the conversation skills. We’ll practice more on our date.

Tobi: You’re a smart ass

Savage: Better than a dumb ass.

Tobi: IDK being dumb seems to work for some people. I bet it’s a lot less stressful.

Savage: Maybe, but we talked about this, brains are sexy.

Tobi: I can’t argue with you there

Savage: You shouldn’t argue with me anyway, it’s easier if you just agree with me.

Tobi: You’re barking up the wrong tree if you think I’m that kind of submissive

Savage: What kind of submissive are you?

Oh shit. I did not mean to say that. My stupid face heats again, and I’m so glad no one can see it.

My cock throbs at the very implication of being submissive to him. Of how his tattooed hands would look against my skin. I can’t hold back. I wrap my hand around myself and stroke.

A loud, ragged moan forces its way out of my throat, and in only a couple of pumps, I’m spilling cum onto Ambrose’s hoodie. I’m panting and sweating and shaking. What the actual fuck? That may have been the best orgasm of my life. Is that pathetic?

“Please tell me that was what I’m imagining it was.” Ambrose’s voice comes through the door, making me jump.

“You’re a fucking creeper!”

“I’m not the one being loud. You know how thin these walls are.”

My cheeks instantly heat, realizing he’s right. “You didn’t have to listen.”

“You didn’t have to put on a show,” Ambrose shoots back.

“It wasn’t a show!” I want to sink into the floor, unable to keep being human at the moment.

“But you just came, didn’t you?” His voice is deep again. How can he just say that so easily and not react?

I’m never going to recover from this embarrassment. “Umm.” I swallow hard. “Yes.”

“On my hoodie?”

“Yes.” Fuck. Why am I even answering? But a part of me likes it. Likes that he wants to know. It feels good to be wanted, even if I know it won’t last.

“Did you get cum on my hoodie? Can I see it?” The doorknob jingles like he’s gripped it, and I shove my dick back in my shorts.

“Why would you want to do that?” Arousal stirs in my gut against my will.

“Please,” he coaxes, still cocky, but there is a need in his voice that makes me want to show him.

“Okay.” I don’t know why I say it, but in the next second, he’s got the door pushed all the way open with his palm, keeping it flat against the wall.

His lungs are working so hard, the skin and muscles dip between his ribs with every breath, while his eyes are glued to the mess on his hoodie.

His teeth catch his lip as he exhales a groan. He lifts his hand like he’s going to reach out and grab me, and I don’t know if I’d stop him if he did.

It’s a long minute before he meets my gaze, then he grabs a shirt and disappears. A few seconds later, the front door slams.

Why did he fucking leave? What is even going on? I’m not even sure how to process what just happened. Is he even into me? Was that some humiliation ritual?

But the biggest question: why did I want it?

I can’t catch feelings for Ambrose. I can’t want to fuck him. He’s seen too much, knows too much about me, who I really am. He’ll never actually like me, and when it ends badly, I’ll still have to see him every day. I can’t do it.

Savage: My brother loves to hog your attention doesn’t he?

Tobi: He’s good at that.

Savage: So our date tomorrow?

Tobi: Okay.

Savage: Good. I’ll see you tomorrow, baby girl.