Page 45 of Whiskey Sour

“Not us.”

“Cassius,” he says firmly, placing a hand on my chest to hold me back when I try to step into his room. “Leave me alone for a second. I promise I’m fine.”

This would be the point where I accept that. Despite being curious as shit about what he’s up to, I should just walk away. However, my feet don’t seem to want to cooperate. I stay still, staring down at my sunshine, and there must be something in my eyes that clues him in on how desperate I am to know, because he sighs.

“Fine.” He opens his door farther and gestures for me to come in. “If you must.”

“What’s going on? What was that package?” I question as I sit on the edge of his bed. With a wayward thought, my fists clench at my sides and I tighten my jaw. “It wasn’t one of those asshole exes sending you something, was it? Was it Ricky? I swear to God, that prick is?—”

“Stop it.” He giggles, but there’s an edge to his tone that I don’t like. He runs a hand through his hot pink hair. “Um, I ordered something the other day.”

“Okay?”

“And it came in.”

“I figured.”

“And, well, I was just…” he trails off and bites his thumbnail. “I’m going to return it, I think.”

I cock my head. “What is it?”

“I can’t show you,” he rushes out, face incredibly flushed now, almost matching his hair. “It’s?—”

“Don’t you dare say private.”

He huffs and bows his head. Fingers trembling, he reaches for the ties on his robe. With an unsteady breath, he looks up at the last second. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

I nod. There’s nothing he could ever do that would make me laugh at him. Laughwithhim, maybe, but everything he does is perfect, so I don’t know what he’s so worried about.

That is, until he unties his robe and lets it fall to the floor with a soft thud.

Oh.

Fuck.

Me.

“You said you wouldn’t laugh!” he reminds me, planting both hands on his hips to feign confidence. “I know it looks ridiculous, but?—”

“Shut up,” I blurt out, my eyes still wide.

He frowns. “Excuse me. I don’t think that’s very polite?—”

“Sunshine,” I say, standing to my full height as I take him in. “Politely, then. Shut up.”

He zips his mouth closed but still looks nervous. I don’t think I’m helping the situation because I just keep on staring. It’s like in those stupid kid shows where the cartoon’s jaw drops comically, and their eyes bug out of their sockets. I must be drooling.

Because my best friend is currently sporting the dirtiest, sluttiest, mostperfectpiece of lingerie.

My hands can’t help but reach out to touch the baby blue, lacy see-through bra to pluck at his tiny nipples. He sucks in a sharp breath as my fingers wander lower to the tight garter around his slim waist. When I reach his delicate hips, I take the strappy thong and snap it against his skin.

“Turn around.”

“Cassius,” he whispers, his voice shaky. “This is ridiculous. Let me just take it off?—”

Something courses through me. It’s not necessarily rage, but an overwhelming sense of urgency. My hand snaps out to encircle his throat. Not too tight. Definitely not tight enough to hurt him, but with enough pressure to get my point across. Skylar likes it because his pupils dilate, and his little cock starts straining against the lace.

“I said, turn the fuck around,” I command, letting go of him so he can follow my instructions.