Iris Blaire - Dark Frame

This can’t be real.

Adam pulls away and looks down at Jaime. He whispers into my ear. “Jaime told me of your history. Is this weird for you?”

What I can’t tell him is that this was part of a fantasy I built up inside my teenage brain over and over. But in the fantasy, the next thing that Jaime would do is to start unbuttoning my pants.

But he doesn’t. Instead, Adam rolls away and Jaime crawls on top of me. His lips hover inches above mine, like he’s just waiting for me to push him off. Instead, I press both my palms against his firm chest, sliding them down his t-shirt until the fabric ends. I trace the skin right above the waist of his belt, and listen to his intake of breath.

Oh my God, Evan was so right. My element of surprise gives him no power at all.

“Oh, come on, Jaime,” I murmur. “Haven’t you been dying to know all these years what it feels like to kiss me?”

My own words set a fire right in my core.

He smirks.

The bastard has the audacity to smirk.

Leaning in slowly, he opens his mouth, tongue darting out to lick my lip. My body erupts in a shiver that I try to suppress, but I know he felt it, because he slows down his pace even further. When our lips fully meet, his tongue glides gently against mine. He tastes like cinnamon and wine, and he smells…

Oh, God, he smells exactly the same as I remember.

I know I’m melting into a puddle beneath him, so I capture his lower lip, sucking on it, scraping my teeth against him as he pulls away to stare at me.

I bite down on my lip to hide my breathing, but my heaving chest is giving me away.

At some point during mine and Jaime’s kiss, Adam rolled off the bed and slipped out the door. We’re alone.

“Did you get my apology?” he asks throatily.

“Which one?” I ask.

His expression shifts to confusion.

“Oh, I just assumed this kiss was a makeup for the one you botched all those years ago. You know, when you tried to embarrass me.”

His eyes light up. “That’s right. Because you hadn’t been kissed before.”

“Too bad,” I roll my hips into his, rocking right into his erection. He stiffens and I clamp my legs around him. I push myself up on my elbows and whisper into his ear, “You weren’t serious.”

I push him off of me and roll out of the bed, nearly falling on my face from being so weak in the knees. I strut out of the room as gracefully as possible, sliding my glasses on in the process.

“Britain, wait.”

I don’t look back. I open the door and slip out, hurrying to the floor below me. When I’m sure no one is around, I press myself against the wall and slide down it, hugging my knees and exhaling slowly.

“Holy shit,” I breathe.

That was the strangest, sexiest thing that’s ever happened to me. And no, I’m far from a virgin. I’ve had amazing, kinky sex before.

But none of that has even come close to what just happened with Adam and Jaime. Jaime. That kiss.

I clench my legs together and shut my eyes, mentally thrown back to a vivid teenage fantasy of mine.

I groan and stand, finding the nearest bathroom and splashing water on my face. When I’ve finally cooled down enough to function, I head downstairs to all of the commotion.

I know it’s because of Dallas.

He arrived right as we were starting the game, and I quickly fed him what we were up to. I wonder if Evan has seen him yet.

As I walk down the stairs, I run my fingers through my hair in attempt to get it to lay flat. Everyone’s crowded around Dallas in the foyer. Adam has his arm around him, completely invested in his arrival. But Jaime’s eyes are trained on me.

And he’s not the only one.

Evan’s staring at me with loathing. I try to silently communicate to her that I’m sorry (even though I’m not really), but she’s not having it. When I reach the foyer, she pulls me into the dining room.

“What the hell is your problem, not telling me that Dallas was flying into fucking Boston?”

I stand up tall. “I have a lot of problems, but not telling you about Dallas isn’t one of them.”

Her eyes widen as she studies me. “Were you just sexed up?”

“I... what? No… no I was not sexed up.”

“You’re lying! Oh my god, Brit. Who was the lucky guy? Girl? Was it Jaime? Oh my God, it was Jaime. That’s so juicy.”

I snap my fingers. “Focus. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Dallas, but we need him and I didn’t want you arguing with me about why he shouldn’t shoot.”

“You know he flew all the way from Costa Rica for this, to shoot porn, right? He shouldn’t be here, Britain. He should be researching and doing what he’s going to school for.”

I grab her by the shoulder. “I love you to death, and I know you’re smart, but right now you’re acting like the dumbest person on the planet.”

She narrows her eyes and cocks her head.

“You really think he flew all the way from Costa Rica to shoot for EPE?”

She rolls her eyes. “Bullshit.”

“Tell me to my face that you guys didn’t kiss when you saw him.”

“Yeah, because it was part of the game.”

“What-the-fuck-ever.”

“And who cares if Dallas and I kissed? That’s century-old news. No one gives a shit anymore, Brit.” She pokes me in the arm. “I want to know,” she pokes me again, “Who sexed you up?”

I lean in close to her face and say, “I don’t kiss and tell,” and then spin on my heel and walk out of the room.

“You suck!” she cries after me.

Luckily for me, Evan is taking this whole Dallas thing a lot lighter than I thought she was going to. Of course, I haven’t told her the biggest factor yet.

I got the message from A.J. this morning.

Rylan’s photos with Miguel bored me to tears.

You put her with Whitley and you make it work.

Evan

Britain and I have been in a texting war all night. Slightly drunk from the booze and high from my kiss with Dallas, I’m in a fiery mood. There’s no doubt in my mind that Britain can tell.

Me: I don’t give two flying fucks what that asshat says—I am NOT shooting with Dallas. You hear me? NO. I don’t think I can spell it out clearlier.

Britain: Clearlier? Really? I don’t think I should have let you go home by yourself.

Me: I took a cab CHILL.

Me: Just put me with another guy tomorrow. I can prove myself, I promise.

Britain: I can probably pull off giving you one more chance, but that’s it. He’s on my back.

Someone knocks on my door and I nearly fall off my bed in surprise. When I open it, Miles is standing there with a stack of books and a huge grin on his face.

“Dude, it’s like, midnight.”

“Tell me you weren’t going to do homework tonight and I’ll leave.” He glances over my shoulder and at my bed, which is covered in notes.

I roll my eyes and walk back to my bed. He follows me in and makes himself comfortable.

“And what if I wanted to study alone tonight?” I say, pointing at my yoga pants.

He raises his eyebrows. “Are those supposed to scare me off or something?”

“Perhaps.”

He falls back onto my bed and scoots against the wall. In his hand is a Margaret Atwood novel. “You’re going to have to try a little harder. Maybe not wear anything.” His eyes get wide. “I’m terrified of naked women.”

I cock my head as I sit back on the bed. “I didn’t know that you batted for the other team.”

“I was propositioning you. I didn’t realize that my acting was so good.”

“I know. And don’t kid yourself, your acting is terrible.”

His eyes sparkle. He scoots his foot—his bare foot—over until it brushes against mine. This is nice—this innocuous flirting. This getting-to-know-a-guy without him seeing me naked or dry-humping me first.

About fifteen minutes into our silent studying, there’s another knock on the door.

Miles looks at me and raises his hands into the air. “I didn’t send out party invitations, promise.”

I get up and creep to the door, cracking it open. My eyes look up, meeting fierce blue ones.

My heart stops.

Dallas’s hand is pressed to the doorframe, and he leans against it. I study him. I guess I didn’t realize earlier that he flew to Boston in his professional teaching attire, for some reason. His shirt matches his eyes, the top button popped to reveal just enough skin to make my mouth water. It’s a little wrinkled—I wonder if that was from my doing when he had me up against the wall. He even sports the slacks and dress shoes.

“Why are you dressed like that?”

His eyebrows furrow. I’m assuming that wasn’t the first question he was expecting out of my mouth. “I told my Costa Rica team I was heading to Boston on business. I wanted to dress the part.”

“Why are you here?” Now, that’s the question I know he was expecting.

“Because A.J. called me and asked nicely.”

“I mean, why are you here, at my room, right now? It’s one in the morning. How did you even get my dorm number?”

“Britain.”

“Fucking Britain.”

The corners of his mouth perk up. His eyes haven’t left mine once, not even to glance down at my ratty sweats.

“Can I come in?” he asks.

I bite my lip. Time to get down to the nitty gritty. “I’m kind of busy,” I say, letting the door fall open. Dallas’s eyes immediately dart to Miles. I see the shift in them, even though he’s trying to keep cool.