Chapter 7: Ego

My hand jerked away from his belt as my head snapped up to look at him. Dark passion swirled in his deep blue eyes. Despite the unexpected change in conversation, my heart rate began to race, my pulse fluttering between my legs.

There was every chance he was compensating for showing me such a vulnerable side last night, but I didn't care. He could compensate all he wanted if that meant glaring at me like he wanted to tear my clothes off and bend me over the sofa. 

I'd worried he'd be hurt about Aaron, but if he was simply jealous, then maybe I was in the clear after all.

"I wouldn't know," I said, shuffling back into the cushions to put some safe distance between us. "I haven't seen his body in person. Just magazines. Websites. We all know how much airbrushing goes into those photos."

I tipped my chin towards his own naked torso, and my attempt to distract from the Aaron situation by goading him into protecting his ego worked.

Leaning closer to me, his hands curled around the back of the sofa on either side of my head, caging me between his corded biceps as he closed the distance between our faces.

"I seem to remember you saying the opposite, actually." Toothpaste-fresh breath floated over my lips as his scorching eyes burned into me. "About how you couldn't believe a body like mine existed outside a magazine?"

One arm briefly left the sofa back to drop to my lap. His long fingers curled around my wrist and lifted it until my hand collided with his belt again.

An invitation if I ever saw one, and I happily accepted.

His jaw clenched as I deliberately took my time pulling the leather strap free from the buckle, and when I grazed my knuckles over the growing bulge in the front of his jeans, the biceps bracketing my head tensed.

"Do you need me to stroke your ego?" I tilted my face upwards so our lips brushed. "Or are you going to believe me when I say I've not slept with him?"

As I slid my hand inside his jeans and cupped his solid erection through his boxers, he released an aggravated growl, his forehead coming to rest against mine.

"I might have been drunk last night," he said, hissing when I squeezed, "but I know what I heard."

"And what did you hear?"

I waited for him to reply as I eased his jeans and boxers down his thighs, knowing full well that he was only half-focused on this conversation. And served him right: if he wanted to try to disarm me with sex, I would do the damn same thing to him.

"I heard how you answered the phone to him. And I heard him bragging about tasting you. Something about how you've been ignoring his calls. How you've—fuck!"

He threw back his head and pinched his eyes shut as I began to glide my hand up and down his cock. It had been too long since I'd felt the silky, warm virility of him against my fingers, and while I wasn't the one being pleasured, it almost felt like I was.

Maybe that explained why he got off on teasing me so much—because it really did give your ego a huge boost when you could take someone from hostile to begging in mere seconds.

"You were saying?" I peered up at him and twisted my lips into a smug smile that I knew would drive him mad.

Darkness flashed through his eyes again as his lust-filled gaze met mine. A credit to his self-control, though, he removed one hand from the sofa to fix around my wrist, pulling my touch away but not letting go.

"I know you've been with other people since we called it quits. But I didn't realise one of those people was Aaron. Obviously you can sleep with whoever you like—"

"Thanks for the permission."

His grip on my wrist tightened just a fraction—no doubt a subconscious reaction to his frustration that I still wasn't rolling over for him, but nevertheless stirring up sinful memories of how domineering he could be.

"But I thought there was at least some element of respect between us. Aaron's my friend—"

"Do you want to have this conversation now, or do you want me to finish you off?" I tugged my wrist free and folded my arms. "I'm not going to do both at the same time."

He straightened up and took a step backwards, running a hand through his damp hair as he fixed his eyes on me. He'd said we couldn't blur the lines, and I was only sticking true to that. If Ed wanted to talk about trust, and loyalty, and—dare I say it—friendship, then we had to do that away from the sex. It was too messy and confusing otherwise.

Pressing his lips together before releasing a resigned huff of air, he reached for my wrist again.

But I loved the shift in power. I loved how his eyes narrowed to dangerous slits as I folded my hands behind my head and tossed him a sweet smile.

"Ask me nicely."

"Don't rile me up, Sophia. You know I can play this game so much better than you."

I shrugged. "You don't really look like you're in a position to negotiate right now."

He stepped closer, until his denim-clad knees touched mine.

"You want to negotiate? How about a reminder that I made you scream down the building earlier this week? And judging by how quickly you came, it had obviously been a while since you were touched by someone who knows what they're doing."

I didn't rise to the bait. Instead, I lowered one hand to brush the pad of my thumb across his tip, gathering the drops of liquid seeping out. His shudder proved that he'd passed the point of no return. This was simply bravado. But I was determined to make him beg. Just like he'd made me beg.

"Ask me nicely," I repeated.

As I shuffled towards the edge of the sofa in a silent promise, I eased my thumb between my lips. His fists clenched by his sides, teeth gritted together, smouldering eyes fixed on my throat as I swallowed.

"Fine. Fuck. You win. Please. Please."

Smiling up at him, I guided his erection into my mouth, my moan at his familiar taste instantly drowned out by Ed's cry of ecstasy as one of his hands sunk into my hair. With my lips locked tightly around him, I leaned forward to take him deeper, until he hit the back of my throat with a guttural groan. Just seconds later, he spilled onto my tongue, panting as he clutched the arm of the sofa.

Ironic, really, considering he'd just mocked how quickly I'd come.

And also a bit annoying. I'd wanted the chance to blow his mind. Memories of his talent tortured me every time I looked at him, and my ego wanted reassurance that he hadn't forgotten how well I could deliver, too.

One hand remained in my hair, the stands still twisted around his fingers where he'd clenched his fist as he came. Slowly, he loosened his grip, but as he withdrew his hand, his knuckles drifted over the tip of my cheekbone in an unmistakably tender way.

As if catching himself, his hand swiftly dropped to his jeans, and he hurriedly pulled them up his thighs, fingers trembling as he fumbled with his belt.

And then I saw it. The brief glimpse of frustration. So recognisable because I'd experienced it myself just days earlier.

I downed the rest of my coffee and carried the empty mug over to the kitchen to give him a moment of privacy. When I returned, he was staring out of the window, the tension no longer bristling from his body, but his eyes still detached as they landed on me.

Maybe the orgasm had mellowed him, but we still had to talk.

"I didn't sleep with Aaron," I said. "We flirted. We kissed. It went no further. He was just another guy who formed part of my coping strategy."

"Except he's not just another guy." Ed shook his head in contempt. "He's my friend and you'd spent years fantasising over him."

"I know," I said. "That's why I cooled it off. It was a bad judgement call on my part. He was supposed to be a distraction, but he was the wrong person to choose."

Ed rested his shoulder against the window, folding his arms as his guarded eyes swept over my body.

"When was this?" he asked.

"Couple of months ago at Escala. You were flirting with a Brazilian backing dancer."

I watched his gaze cloud over as he attempted to recall the night. My head had been in a weird space that evening, and looking back it was almost as though I'd wanted to sabotage any chance of reconciling with Ed—as if that put the decision in my hands rather than his. It put me in control of my heartache—not him.

And maybe—just maybe—I also did it out of petty, hypocritical jealousy having spent the evening watching him dance with another woman. Touching her hips, her skin, her hair...

"You left early that night."

I nodded. "I came back here and went to bed. Felt guilty and didn't want to look at him or you anymore."

"I assumed you'd gone home with someone."

There was no malice in his voice, only acceptance, but I still felt the need to reassure him.

"I know you think I've been going home with someone different every night, but I haven't."

A weary sigh spilled past his lips.

"It didn't mean anything to me," I said. "Kissing Aaron. I know that doesn't necessarily make it any better. But I'm sorry, anyway."

"You should have told me before."

"Why, though? We agreed we couldn't be friends while I'm working here—"

"It's not to do with friendship. It's to do with respect. I spent the whole of last night with him, not realising that he's... that you've... that we've shared—"

"I'd be very careful before finishing that sentence."

Huffing, Ed reached across his bed for the top he'd pulled out of his drawers earlier and yanked it over his head.

"It was literally only a kiss," I said. "I'm not playing it down. It wasn't even that good. There was no spark. Only guilt."

He scoffed. "Well, at least you felt guilty."

"And since you were listening so closely last night, you'll have picked up that there's no love lost between us. He's pissed off that I've bruised his ego by not returning his calls, and I'm pissed off that he won't let it drop—"

"Sophia—"

"—So you can stand there and try to make me feel guiltier than I do already, or you can accept that I made a selfish choice two months ago that I now regret."

We glared at each other from opposite sides of the room, and I knew we were thinking the same thing: we'd made this bed for ourselves. By taking friendship off the table, I had no real loyalty to him. Yet I'd still hurt him. Whether that was hurting his feelings or his pride, I couldn't tell, but it was something we'd wanted to avoid.

"I was joking when I said he likes to take things from me, but maybe I shouldn't be surprised that he's gone after the one person I said was off limits."

A cold fist clamped around my heart upon hearing that confession. His words were flippant, but the underlying sentiment carried a heavy weight.

Off limits.

I didn't know when Ed had told Aaron that, but in fairness to the arrogant American, it was me who'd made the first move.

I quirked a brow. "So he used me. I used him, too. Guess we're even."

"Eases your guilt a bit, does it?"

"My guilt is towards you. Not him. I promised him nothing and I don't give a shit if that's hurt his pride. But he's still your friend and I don't want to come in the way of that."

"Huh. Old habits really do die hard, then."

A nervous swallow followed his cold words, and that tiny giveaway alerted me to the true meaning behind the statement.

"And what old habits would they be?"

Ed shrugged. He didn't have the balls to say it out loud, wanting the last word without the consequences.

"Coward."

I crossed back over to the sofa and swept up my phone and jacket. He probably felt like shit after last night, so I had to take his attitude with a pinch of salt. I didn't have to stay here and subject myself to it, though.

"I'm going back to my room to catch up on the sleep that I didn't get last night while babysitting you," I told him. "I hope you feel better soon."

And before he could make another attempt at the last word, I slipped out of the door.  

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Thank you for reading :) xx

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Sorry for the slight delay uploading this. I was away at the weekend and didn't have access to my laptop. I hope the chapter was worth the wait, though! 

Tricky situation they're in. Lots of blurred lines, even if they think they're keeping things clear cut and simple. Where do they go from here?