Consolation Prize (Forbidden Men Book 9) (3 page)

J
ULIANNA’S
C
HAPTER
|
3

I
couldn’t help myself. My mind went there. It took a good three-second vacation to envision what being with Colton Gamble might be like—which, embarrassingly, wasn’t the first time I’d wondered it either. And I had to admit, there was no way tangling with him could ever be boring or staid. The guy had a way of making me catch my breath just by looking at me as if he knew things… hot, kinky, exciting things, scrumptious things I hadn’t experienced in a long time, or maybe even ever.

He had never laid a hand on me, but I already knew if I let him, those hands would be everywhere. They looked like naughty, mischievous hands, all long and slim-fingered, or like a magician’s hands that did all kinds of flashy, interesting things right before your eyes and then snuck up and surprised you with the real trick without you even being aware of it, until bam, orgasm central.

My body kind of suddenly wanted those hands to pull a rabbit out of my hat.

Which made me blink with guilt and squeeze my thighs together inconspicuously as I glared at him. But seriously, why would he do this to me? He probably hadn’t even been seriously propositioning me, and here I was, tingling and throbbing over the mere suggestions he’d put into my head.

The jerk.

I’m not sure why I’d actually thought he might’ve had some kind of legitimate plan to help me get over my silly crush on his brother, either. I should’ve
known
he’d only been trying to segue into another one of his stupid, empty pickup lines.

“Give me back my purse, you idiot.”

When I held out my hand, he sighed and surprisingly handed it over without any resistance, which disappointed me as much as it shocked me. Wait, I hadn’t said disappointed, had I? I didn’t mean disappointed.

And yet, I kind of did.

“Is it the forbidden thing?” he asked as I clutched my purse to my chest, singularly aware of the warmth secreting from it where his hand had been holding it.

I’d planned on storming away and leaving for good, but his question made me waver. “Excuse me?”

“The fact that he’s unavailable.” Colton rolled his hand to explain himself. “You’re not one of those women who only wants a guy once he’s already taken, are you?”

“What?” My mouth fell open, unable to believe he’d ask me that. It stung that he’d even
think
of me that way. “Good God,
no
.”

“Because, you know,” he went on conversationally as if I hadn’t spoken. “It would make sense why you’ve never wanted me. Maybe I made myself
too
available.”

Never wanted him? Humph. I almost laughed in his face over that one.

But hell, if he wasn’t aware I’d had all kinds of dirty thoughts about him, then…yeah, I was going to keep it that way. Who knew how big his head would grow if he suspected what kind of sexy, forbidden daydreams I’d really had.

Thinking of him that way had always made me feel like a guilty piece of slime, though, as if I was cheating on my old feelings for his brother when I’d had those thoughts, which had to be really fucking messed up.

But in all seriousness, if a person were to put Colton’s sex appeal into Brandt’s personality, my ovaries probably would’ve exploded months ago.

When I noticed Colton was watching me as if waiting for a response, I realized, shit, my mind had just wandered to places it should never go.

I cleared my throat. “Uh…no. Sorry to burst your bubble, but I’m not like that. And honestly, if anything, you’re probably five times more forbidden than your brother, anyway.”

“Really?” Eyes sparking with interest, he leaned closer. “That sounds exciting. Why am
I
forbidden?”

Damn, why had I told him that? And why did I feel the urge to explain it? I knew I was going to regret getting into this discussion, but I just couldn’t help myself. The boy dragged out the arguer in me. It was as if he knew I loved a good debate.

“Well, first of all, you’re underage.”

“Wrong.” He made a game-show buzzer sound before grinning. “But you already know I’m legal now.”

“The hell if you are. You can’t drink alcohol until you’re twenty-one, buddy.”

“But I’m adult enough to vote, go to war, and have all the consensual sex I want, which is what really counts.”

Yes, I definitely knew he was eighteen. He’d given me a countdown every time he’d visited the bar where I worked. And then, on the very day he turned, he’d invited me to his big birthday bash, assuring me he’d make it “worth my while” if I showed up, which I didn’t do.

“You’re still four years younger than me, honey.” Or nearly four years, which was just
too
young for me. He was just beginning the crazy, drunken college era; I was ready to be over it and settle down. Our maturity levels had to be polar opposites.

“Damn.” He shivered and set his hand over his heart. “I like it when you call me honey. Makes all the short hairs in my undies tingle.”

See, right there. Point taken. That was exactly the kind of sophomoric comment to turn me off. Usually. Except, dammit, when he said it, it roused an internal shiver through me.

To his face, however, I frowned. “If you really think such disgusting comments impress me, you’re wrong.”

He shrugged. “Or maybe you really
like
my disgusting comments but don’t want to admit how much, so you say it’s lame to camouflage your true appreciation…for my comments.”

Damn, he was good.

But I shook my head anyway. “You are so delusional.”

“Definitely.” He winked. “What else you got?”

“What do you mean, what else do I got?” Did he actually want me to call him more nasty names?

“My forbidden status.” He snapped his fingers, encouraging me back on track. “You said
first of all
with the age thing, leading me to believe there was more than one aspect making me so illicit and exciting. So what else you got, baby doll? Lay it on me, thick and heavy, or you know, just lay
yourself
on me.”

I sent him a dry stare, even though inside, I shivered, feeling the word
baby doll
make parts of my own anatomy tingle, which totally unnerved me. Coming from any other jackass’s mouth,
baby doll
would piss me off. I mean, what a stupid nickname, right? But coming so playfully from Colton, it sounded, I don’t know, scintillating.

And
lay yourself on me
? Really? That should be a weak, pathetic, laughable come-on. But all I could imagine was crawling on top of him, buck-ass naked and laying it on him…thick and heavy.

And that felt wrong. So, so wrong.

So I glanced away and bit my lip, unable to tell him to stop misbehaving, because I knew he’d just keep going, probably stronger than ever, if he knew how much it got to me.

Except I couldn’t tell him the biggest reason why I found him forbidden, either.

I knew interracial couples weren’t such a big deal in the grand scheme of things anymore, but where I’d grown up, each group had basically stuck with its own kind. My friends would tease me mercilessly; I’d probably be too embarrassed to ever introduce him to them. And besides, with the dad I had, well...let’s just say I wasn’t sure how he’d take it if I ever brought home a white boy.

Then there was the fact I’d straight up been told once, “I don’t date black girls,” by a guy I hadn’t even thought I’d been flirting with, which had made me feel about as worthless as pond scum. But it had also gotten me curious to know what had made that prick so damn special that I wasn’t good enough for him or his
kind
. It also made me want to show him, to find some white guy who thought I was all that and shove him in that dick’s face, prove I
was
worthy of anyone I wanted.

Crazily enough, I had never actively pursued a white guy, though, not until I’d met Brandt, but that’d had nothing to do with kinds or colors and everything to do with how utterly perfect he’d been. Besides, somewhere deep inside, I think I’d always known he and I would never really go anywhere. He’d been more of a pipe dream because he pretty much possessed every quality of my ideal dream man: handsome, kind, likable, not full of himself, hard-working, and honest. So I’d had to try for him, of course, but I’d also been aware from the very beginning he was too good to be true.

Thinking about Brandt, though, I glanced at Colton. “I’ve dated your brother. You and I hooking up after that would just be...weird...all the way around.”

“Half a date,” Colton tossed back with a swish of his hand. “Doesn’t count.”

“Whatever,” I argued. I had been the one to ask Brandt out, to start the flirting, to visualize a relationship and daydream about doing dirty, naughty things with him. Turning to his brother after that would be beyond strange, and really awkwardly depraved.

Wouldn’t it?

I already felt guilty enough for even thinking about Colton the way I did, so yes…yes, it would be wrong.

“Did you fuck him?” Colton asked.

I choked on air before gasping, “After half a date? Yeah, I don’t think so.” What the hell kind of girl did he think I was?

Colton kept going. “Swap spit with him?”

I blinked. “Swap what?”

“Kiss? Did your mouth or tongue go anywhere near his mouth or tongue?”

Sighing heavily, I answered, “Of course not.”

Colton’s shoulders relaxed. Made me wonder if he was actually relieved by my answers. But then his smarmy little care-about-nothing-but-himself grin returned. “Well, then...we’re good. Next forbidden issue?”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I wasn’t exactly ready to put this issue to bed yet. “What about the fact you’re
so
sure I’m in love with him? That doesn’t bother you at all? You wouldn’t worry I was thinking about him while I was with you?”

“Oh, baby doll,” he murmured, his eyes glazing with sudden heat. “All you’d need is one taste of me and you’d forget about big brother completely.”

I drew in a sharp breath, determined to mask how hot his self-assurance made my hormones.

With a disbelieving snort, I pointed. “See, that right there. That cocksure attitude is reason number
one
why you turn me off. I don’t appreciate it.” Or more accurately, I didn’t appreciate how much I
did
appreciate it or how scattered and messy it made my emotions.

He lifted an eyebrow. “You don’t like confidence in a guy? Odd, because Brandt’s not exactly insecure, yet you like
him
.”

I ground my teeth. “Well,
Brandt
doesn’t act like he’s God’s gift to women. Nor does he strut around, preening as if the entire universe owes him something and should idolize him. He doesn’t try to act like anyone but himself, and that’s why
he’s
so amazing.”

When I realized I’d once again admitted my feelings for Brandt aloud, I snapped my mouth shut and glared at Colton. But the contemplative way he watched me caught me off guard.

Tipping his head to the side, he asked, “Is that how you see me? As some kind of annoying peacock with an overinflated ego and no depth?”

The question seemed so sincere and solemn as if my response actually
meant
something to him.

My mouth opened, but no words came. I could only blink, worried I’d hurt his feelings.

That was the thing about Colton; I
hadn’t
thought he could be hurt or that he’d care what anyone thought. I had just assumed he’d be so full of himself he wouldn’t believe or take to heart any insult slung his way. But the fact that he’d listened to every word I’d said and seemed to mull my thoughts over made me suddenly very uneasy. I wasn’t the type to go around intentionally and unnecessarily hurting people’s feelings. They had to deserve it first.

“I...I...” Reaching for one of my earrings and tugging self-consciously, I tried to come up with something nice to dull the insult I’d just spewed, but my mind went totally blank.