“No? Why not? Don’t you have a routine? Oh no, am I stepping on your routine?”

“It’s fine,” I answer, because really it is. Tess, Yasmin, and Katrina are nice and all, but I’m not about to take them to a hotel when Kinsley is waiting for me to come home. It would feel weird. I’d be thinking about her the whole time. But the weirdest thing? I haven’t . . . needed them. I still come off the field burning with adrenaline, but all I’ve wanted was to get to Kinsley. Even though, it’s not for sexual release. Fucking weird.

“Oh no, I am stepping on your routine. Ugh, does that mean you have to service yourself?”

“Service my—” I pause. “Are you asking if I’m masturbating?”

“Well, you are a healthy, young guy with a massive amount of adrenaline pumping through him, so I’m sure you have to expel it somehow, hence the brothel of women.”

“Not a brothel.”

“Either way . . . are you getting your needs met, Maddox?”

“Things we shouldn’t talk about,” I say, picking up my sketchbook and uncapping my pen.

“Because before you called, I was having fun with my little battery-operated friend.”

My pen stills. Umm . . . what?

She masturbated in my apartment? Where did she do it? Shower? On Clyde? On the couch? Was she completely naked?

Is she naked right now?

Completely unaware of how my mouth is dry and my throat thick, she continues, “Getting off is such a natural thing but I can understand how your hand isn’t doing the trick. I mean, that’s why I had Stan. Contact with another human makes a huge difference, because even though they might fumble around—poor Stan was always so nervous—it’s those little touches, you know? A scrape across your abdomen, a brush along your side, a smooth touch to your lower back. They all build up into something you can’t provide for yourself.”

Fuck, I’m getting hard.

I’m getting hard while talking to my best friend on the phone, and I want to blame it on her description of human contact and not the image that keeps popping up in my head—Kinsley with her head thrown back on my couch, a vibrator between her legs, her taut nipples on display as her hips move up and down.

“Are you there?”

I swallow hard, a lump of saliva barely cascading down my throat. “Yeah,” I squeak out. “I’m here.”

“Oh good, thought I lost you. Anyway, you know what I’m talking about, right? A girl caressing your balls, pulling them into her mouth while she has a hold on your cock like it’s the only thing keeping her afloat? That’s way different than you just reaching down and fisting yourself. I mean, unless you’re pulling double duty with your hands, but even at that, if I try to picture it in my head, you’re all crouched over trying to waffle your balls around while jerking hard on your cock. Almost seems like you’re trying to do that rub your belly, pat your head trick, which in that case, oh boy, would it hurt if you get the motions wrong downstairs. One harsh yank on the nuggets would have you screaming out the Virgin Mary’s name in vain, along with her son and her husband. You know, a good old Jesus, Mary, and Joseph squeal.”

What the hell is happening right now? Why is she talking about this?

“Have you ever chafed down there from too much pleasure? I always wondered if that was a real thing. Like actual chafing. I’ve never chafed, but then again I’m not yanking on anything either, just diddling around. All we ladies get are pruney fingers, you know?”

“I think I have to go,” I say before she can say anything else.

“You think you have to go or you have to go?”

Of course she would catch that. “I have to go.”

“Liar.” She laughs into the phone. “You’re bailing because I’m talking about masturbating. We’re old enough to admit we both do it, so why are you so uncomfortable right now?”

Because we don’t talk about this shit.

Because I keep picturing you doing it.

Because for some reason, I can’t get you out of mind.

Because Lincoln keeps reminding me how fuck-hot you are.

“Uh . . . because you said pruney fingers,” I answer, skipping the rest of the truths.

She laughs even harder. “I talked about yanking and slapping your privates, and pruny fingers is what got you? Honestly, Maddie, I don’t even know what to do with you.”

“The feeling is mutual.” Except for some moronic reason, I’m starting to know what I want to do with Kin.

And that scares the fuck out of me.

Chapter Nine

KINSLEY

“Oh goodness, do you need help?” I ask, running up to an elderly lady who’s carrying loads of mail in her arms.

She glances up, her red-rimmed eyes teary and sad. “I don’t want to be bothersome.”

“Not at all,” I say, taking the mail from her. Standing outside the mailboxes to the apartment building, I ask, “How did all of this even fit in your mailbox?”

“It was in one of the package boxes. We’ve been out of town.” She gives me a small wave and says, “I’m Joan.”

“Kinsley. It’s very nice to meet you, Joan. What floor do you live on? I can help you carry this all up.”

“Ten.”

“Ten? Me too,” I say. “You must be the other tenant.”

“You live on ten? I thought a man lives on the other side of the hall.”

We walk over to the elevator where she presses the button for both of us. “Just moved in. Maddox is my best friend, actually. I’m staying with him until I can get on my feet.”

“Maddox? Oh, it’s terrible but we’ve never met him. We don’t see much of him around at all.”

Giving her a soft smile, I say, “He’s shy.” She presses the button for ten. “Are you okay, Joan? You seem a little upset.”

“Oh, I am.” She wipes under her eyes. “I know it might be a little ridiculous, but my grandson, Phineas, was just dumped by his girlfriend of one year. I feel terrible about it because I introduced them, and I really thought she was the one.”

“That’s terrible. Can I ask what happened?”

“The little whore was sleeping with her personal trainer.”

Snot flies out of my nose as I snort out loud from hearing what seems to be a seventy-five-year-old woman refer to a girl as a whore.

“I’m sorry,” I say, trying to gather myself. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“No one was. Phineas is quite the catch. He has a great job working as the director of human resources for a Fortune 500 company. He has a wonderful face to look at, and he’s a gentle lover.”

Oh God, how does a grandma even know that?

“Sounds like a catch.” I smile as Joan takes a shaky step away from me and gives me a smooth once-over. When she reaches my eyes, she shakes her head and mumbles something. “What was that?” I ask.

She motions up and down my body. “You’re pretty, but you smell like dog and you seem too wild for my Phinny.”

You smell like dog. Can’t hear that enough. Thankfully it was from an old lady and not a guy . . . or Maddox for that matter.

“Oh . . . well . . .” I honestly don’t know what to say. Do I apologize? Tell her I wasn’t interested in Phinny to begin with? Tell her maybe he was broken up because his grandma knows he’s a gentle lover?

The elevator dings and thankfully, I don’t have to say anything as I walk her to her door. When we reach it, I let her open the door before I hand her over everything. And because I’m nice, I say, “If you ever need anything, I’m right down the hall.”

“That’s very kind. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Have a good—”

“Would you like to come in for some tea? Melvin is on a biscuit kick and has been baking up a storm lately. I could put together a nice platter for us while we get to know each other.”

“Melvin?”

“My husband. The old coot has been attached to me since I was ten. Can’t seem to shake the aged barnacle off me.”

I chuckle and think about it. Yeah, she told me I smelled like dog, but she does seem nice. I don’t have much going on and since Maddox isn’t here, wouldn’t hurt.

“Let me go shower and change quickly, then I’ll be right over.”

“Lovely, dear.”

“We could FaceTime you know.”

“No way,” I say, lying on the couch on my stomach, feet kicked up behind me. “This is more fun. I get to imagine the sneers you’re giving me rather than seeing them for myself.”

Maddox had a late game so when he texted to see if it was okay to call, I was still awake, wondering if we would talk tonight.

“What if you’re imagining the wrong sneer?”

“I know you too well. Trust me when I say, I know exactly what sneer you would have for any given moment.”

“I should be scared.”

“You really should.” I rest the phone on the couch and turn it on speaker. “You know, this is the most you’ve ever called me. We used to talk once a month, now every night? How did I ever get so lucky?”

He’s silent for a second, which doesn’t surprise me. He puts thought into his answers. “You started a new journey in life, Kinny. I want to make sure you have a support system. You know I love your mom, but she’s not who you should be calling to talk about your day.”

“So you’re going to be my talking buddy?”