A/N: Okay, so here's Chapter 21, hope you like it. Great reactions to Ch 20, thanks for the reviews. To everyone who followed and faved and REVIEWED. I love you. And a shout out to my faithful followers who don't have their PMs turned on. Thank you for your kind words.

As always, CAMSI.

Chapter 21

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

Why was she calling me? I stared at my phone like a moron, like it might just reveal what the hell this was all about.

I must have made some noise, a little gasp or something, because Embry looked at me and his eyebrows scrunched together. "You okay, man?" he asked. That made Quil turn and look at me too.

"I got a phone call…" I said, my voice almost a whisper. "It's from…it's from my mom."

"Your mom!?" Quil asked, like he couldn't believe it. I nodded slowly, and as I did, I heard the door open and the rest of the band burst in. Jasper and Felix went upstairs immediately, but Edward, Seth and Paul came to the bar, loud and obnoxious.

Right away, they could all sense that something was up. Quil, Embry, and I sat in stunned silence as I stared at my phone. They quieted down, and Paul looked from one to the other suspiciously. "What's going on?" he asked. "What happened?"

I looked quickly to Quil and Embry. Paul would lose his shit if he knew my mom was trying to contact me. He lived in fear that his mom would find him. If mine found me, it was only a matter of time. Scuttlebutt on the rez speculated that my mom and Paul's might have been roommates or something after they both split. They were very close friends before Paul's mom disappeared, and I knew for a fact, though no one else outside my family did, that my mom had frequently spoken with Paul's after Mrs. Lahote took off.

Edward, however, was completely clueless. He knew nothing about our families or our personal lives before he took us on. Unless Paul had filled him in, he was in the dark on this one.

"What?" Paul asked again when no one answered him. "Did someone die?"

Quil finally spoke up. Brave man, Quil. Because we all knew how Paul was gonna react. "Uh…Jake got a phone call. From…from Sarah."

Paul's eyes got huge, and he stood there, completely still, looking at nothing. I glanced around. The faces of the Wolves all looked like the same mask: stunned, wary, silent. I felt nauseated. Seriously, I wanted to puke.

Paul swallowed once and then looked at me. "What did she want?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I...uh. I didn't listen to her message," I said, just as quiet.

Paul let out a breath he'd been holding. He stared down at the bar. "You gonna listen to it?" he asked, his voice cracking. I shrugged in response.

"Well, Jake, you have to listen to it," Quil advised.

"He doesn't have to do anything," Paul argued hotly.

"Aren't you wondering what she wants?" asked Seth.

I shrugged again. Through all this, Edward stood there silently. Finally he asked, "Who is Sarah? Your ex?"

In unison, all five of us turned to stare at him and he stood up a little straighter, looking surprised. "What?" he said.

"Sarah is Jake's mother," Embry explained. "She left when he was little. He hasn't heard from her in years."

"Ah," Edward said. He seemed like he didn't know what to say.

"Why do you think she called now?" asked Paul. "Because of all the publicity?"

"That would make sense," Edward answered. "The Twitter feeds are exploding and Bellar and Jacob are all over the internet."

"Yeah, probably before all the press, only fans knew where we were. Now we're on the map, for good or bad," Seth commented.

"Well, fuck," I spat finally. I honestly didn't know how I felt about it. It was something I'd wanted for years, waited for and looked forward to. But now that it had happened, I didn't know what to want, what to hope. Did I want to see her, reconnect with her? Or did I want to just leave the damn thing alone and not open that door? I really didn't know.

Like he read my mind, Paul asked, "You wanna know what I think?" And I don't think he was being a dick. I think he really wanted to know if I was interested in his opinion. Surprisingly, I was.

"What?" I asked.

"Don't call her. Don't even listen to the voicemail. She left, man. She doesn't deserve to be in your life."

"She's his mother, Paul," Quil said. "If anyone has a right to be in his life, it's her."

Seth looked between Paul and Quil, then turned to me. "Maybe you should call Billy," he said. "He might know what to do." It was the first viable suggestion I'd heard. I should call my dad. I nodded.

But I couldn't call him tonight; it was after two am in Florida, which meant it was after eleven in the Pacific Northwest, where my dad lived. My old man didn't stay up that late. I'd have to call him tomorrow.

I was restless now for a whole different reason. Silently, I stood and walked upstairs as they all watched me. I went back to bed, but I couldn't sleep. I spent the night wide awake, staring into the dark. Listening to Bella talk in her sleep.

At least it took my mind off my mother. Because damn, that girl couldn't keep her mouth shut for five minutes. All night long. It's a wonder she got any sleep at all.

It started out innocently, a couple of mentions of her mom and dad. Then some people I'd never heard of, Mike and Angela. She started giggling at one point. And then she was quiet for awhile, only to start moaning and gasping, just a little, and I finally heard my name. "Oh, Jake," she sighed, and for the first time in what seemed like hours, I smiled.

It still didn't help me sleep, though. I lay awake, wondering and thinking and trying to figure out what everything was about. What it meant when my mom left. What she wanted from me now. What the hell was going on with me and Bells. There weren't answers to any of it. So I tortured myself all night.

In the morning, I was a mess. I was tired and extremely cranky. I was going on no real sex for what seemed like forever. I hadn't gotten any sleep. All the stupid problems – the press, my mom, Bella and our relationship or whatever it was, the jealousy I kept feeling from Paul – all of it was on my mind. Let's just say I had a very short fuse.

Diego ended up getting the brunt of it. I pulled on a pair of shitty sweat pants and went downstairs for breakfast, not realizing it was way too early for any of us to be up after the late night we'd had. Nothing was ready yet, not even coffee, and I stomped around like a prima donna as he scurried to prepare something for me to eat. I have to hand it to him. He was calm and polite while I told him off, and he had breakfast ready for me in what seemed like no time at all.

"'Bout time," I grumbled as he set a steaming plate of over easy eggs, bacon, and French toast in front of me and refilled my coffee.

"I'm very sorry, Jake," he apologized for the umpteenth time. "Can I get you anything else?"

I'd already taken a bite of eggs, and as I swallowed, I gave him a dirty look. But just as soon as I did, I knew I was being an asshole to a guy who did nothing but wait on me since the minute we'd met. And of course, now I felt bad. I shook my head. "No. Uh…sorry, man. It's been a rough night," I said, completely changing my tone.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he answered, apologizing again. "Is there anything I can do?"

I sat for a second, brooding, and then I said, "Why don't you sit down and have a cup of coffee?"

He looked surprised for a second, but he recovered quickly. "Of course," he said, pouring himself a cup. He perched on the edge of the chair, ready to get up at any second in case someone else needed something. His manners were impeccable. He tucked a napkin in his lap, poured himself a cup of coffee and, without cream or sugar, took a silent, polite sip.

I had to smile. He looked like some guy at Buckingham Palace or something, little pinky extended. "So I'm sorry about blowing up at you. I just had a really bad night," I said.

"Quite alright," he said with a tight grin. "Did the show go badly?"

"Naw, man, the show was great. It was after the show, when we got back."

"You seemed okay when you and Miss White came in," he said. "Is there trouble in paradise?"

I grinned unwillingly. "Nope, that's not it either," I said, with a little chuckle.

"Is there an actual relationship there, or is it all just for the press?" he asked. He didn't seem like he was prying. He sort of seemed like a friend. And I knew he worked for the hotel, not some tabloid. Plus he seemed to have morals, so I felt okay talking to him about it. Honestly, it was easy to talk to him.

"That's a good question, Diego. There's definitely something – I mean it's not all for the press – but I just don't know what to call it. I don't know if relationship is the right word."

He grinned at me like a bro. "Women," he muttered, and I chuckled again.

"Yeah. That's not really the problem anyway. It's more a combination of things. We've got a crowd of pre-teen girls following us everywhere, and I guess it's because of me and my new song. It's pissing off the rest of the band. And on top of everything else, my…my mother called me last night."

"Your mother? Is there a problem at home?" he asked.

I scooped up a forkful of French toast and shoved it in my mouth. As I chewed, I made a face. "My mother and I haven't spoken in fifteen years. She left when I was six. I'm trying to decide if I should call her back, or even listen to her voicemail."

Diego looked at me in stunned silence. He recovered quickly, though. "I see," he finally said.

"Do you?" I asked, seriously wanting to know. Because if he understood, I wanted him to explain it to me. I sure as shit didn't get it.

"Well, I was forced…by a group of very powerful men in my country…to leave my home when I was a teenager. I haven't been back, or talked to any of my family since. It's been at least ten years since I saw my mother. I don't even know if she's still alive."

Wow. And I thought I had problems. Diego went on. "I'm the oldest child in my family, and I was the main wage earner. I don't even know if they're getting by. I have five younger brothers and sisters, and ailing parents. My father couldn't work because he'd lost his legs in an accident, and my mother had no education. If she's still alive, she's probably begging in the streets. It's possible that my grandfather may have helped them, but he's my mother's father, and he didn't like my father, so I don't know if he would step up. He is a powerful man and had some money." As he talked, I noticed his accent became more pronounced.

"Shit, dude. I'm sorry. I had no idea," I said, feeling like a total prick.

"How could you have known?" he said, shrugging. "This kind of thing happens a lot in my country. There is economic unrest. I was forced to leave everything behind. My family, my school friends, my girl. I left in the dark of night with nothing but the clothes on my back."

I sensed there was some secret he wasn't telling, like maybe he was involved in a crime or something, but I didn't want to ask. Instead I said, "You had a girl?"

"Sure, I was fifteen years old! Of course I had a girl. Her name is Bree. She's beautiful. And when I left, she was pregnant with my child. I don't know what became of her."

"A kid? Shit, can't you go back?" I asked. I couldn't believe this guy had a ten year old kid he'd never seen.

"I left to protect her and my family. Someone had to take the fall for…for something." See? I knew there was a crime in here somewhere. "If I set foot back in San Juan, I'll be arrested on sight and stand trial. I'd be executed within weeks."

"Jesus!" I said. "That's some heavy shit! So I guess any kind of contact is out of the question, huh?"

He nodded ruefully. "If I were given the chance to speak to my parents, I wouldn't wait. I'd talk to them immediately. Nothing can be resolved without communication."

Great. So now a guy who is completely removed from the situation is recommending that I call her back. And after talking to him. I almost felt like I had to. What if she was sick or something? What if she needed me? She was still my mom. You only get one.

"Damn, dude," I said. "Isn't Puerto Rico a US territory? Can't the government do something?"

"I'm honestly afraid to ask," Diego said. "In any event, I'm not in a position to leave the country. I don't have a valid passport and I couldn't afford it if I did."

"If it's a US territory, I don't think you need a passport. And it's like a three hour flight from here I think. It can't be more than six or seven hundred bucks round trip."

Diego looked at me, his expression defeated. "I know that doesn't seem like a lot to you, but for me…that's completely unattainable," he said.

"Oh, come on, dude. That's like a weekend excursion."

He sighed. "Even if I could afford it, I still can't go. I'm wanted in Puerto Rico."

"Send a friend," I said. "I'd want to meet my kid, if nothing else."

"Bree has probably moved on," he said sadly. "She is such a lovely girl. And I don't have any friends close enough to ask a favor like this." He shrugged.

I made up my mind to help him somehow. We had enough ancillary staff that we could afford to send some flunky to Puerto Rico for a weekend to help his family and bring his girl and kid back, if they wanted to come. I'd talk to Alice about it.

Plus I was bothered by the fact that he seemed to think that a relatively manageable amount of money was beyond his means. Were they taking advantage of him here? "How long have you worked here?" I asked him, changing the subject abruptly.

"In this hotel? I've been here for seven years. I worked as bell staff for awhile, but when they realized what I'd done in Puerto Rico, I was promoted to this position. At first I thought it was great because I was making a lot more money. But I haven't had a raise in a long time."

Okay, that was ridiculous. This guy was amazing. He deserved to make decent money. "Did you ever think of leaving the place?" I asked. I had it in the back of my mind to talk to Edward about it – I'd thought about it as soon as I'd met this guy, and it would be cool to have a butler for the band. Plus we could help him if we had him as an employee.

"Well, I'd feel bad. I mean, Mr. Goldberg, the owner, gave me a big opportunity here," he said reluctantly.

"But what's he done for you lately?" I asked.

Diego looked at me for a minute. "Nothing," he answered.

"That's all I'm saying," I told him. That decided it. I was talking to Edward as soon as I saw him.

It was actually nice, talking to Diego. He'd been there the whole time we were in Miami, but I hadn't really gotten the chance to talk to him for any length of time. He told me stories about other celebrities who'd stayed at the hotel. It was interesting stuff. Some of the demands of these people were outrageous. I couldn't picture the Wolves being like that.

After about an hour of talking, he got up to make breakfast for the rest of the band and I turned my attention to the Miami Herald, the morning paper that was lying on the table. I wanted to see if there was anything about the concert last night, so I paged through until I found the entertainment section.

There was a review of the concert, very similar to the one in Milwaukee. Luckily I wasn't mentioned too many times by name, although the reviewer did refer to the "lead guitarist and sometime vocalist" several times. At least Paul's name was spelled right.

Under the review was a little article about Bella and me. The headline was Black and White romance, and it had a picture of Bells and me holding hands and walking down the street near the warehouse yesterday. The text of the article had our marketing department written all over it.

The crowd-pleasing rock band, the Difficult Wolves, has enjoyed a surge in popularity recently due largely in part to Jake Black, the lead guitarist. The young man's talent on his famous fretless Dragonfly has been well-known since the band's inception, but fans were pleasantly surprised when Black began singing lead vocals on one number last week in Milwaukee. And suddenly, Jake Black had a following.

Unfortunately, ladies, it has now been released that Black has been seriously dating Bella White, one of the Wolves' backup singers, for quite some time now. The two were seen hand-in-hand strolling through Miami's warehouse district Tuesday afternoon prior to the evening show at AmericanAirlines Arena. The couple was too busy staring into each other's eyes to give a statement to reporters, but representatives for the band report that the word engagement has been mentioned more than once.

Jesus, it read like a tabloid - but Bells would love it. And the Black and White romance headline was friggin adorable. I wasn't sure about the engagement thing, but it wasn't like it said anything definite.

I flipped through the paper some more, just killing time, and successfully got my mind off my mother and the question of whether I should call her back. In fact, I started to feel tired and was almost about to go back to bed when something in the local news section caught my eye.

Altercation at Difficult Wolves concert turns violent, the headline said. What the fuck was this about?

An argument at the Difficult Wolves concert in Miami last night landed one fan in jail and a representative from the band in the emergency room.

Riley Biers, a local resident and fan of the popular Difficult Wolves rock band, was attending their concert with friends when he allegedly was approached by a member of the band's staff. In a statement released by his lawyer. Biers said that the female staff member propositioned him and when he responded in what he felt was an appropriate manner, she became upset. Details are unclear, but the female staff member, whose name is being withheld at her request, was taken by ambulance to Mount Sinai Hospital where she was treated for cuts and bruises, and released. Biers is currently in custody, being held on charges of assault and battery.

Shit, they actually went through with it! I knew why they didn't tell me; they knew I'd've kiboshed it. I couldn't believe they'd put the son of a bitch in jail. I couldn't wait to show Bells the article.

Well, today was getting better and better, and I finally felt okay about calling my dad. It was around ten, so it would be about seven at my dad's place. He'd have been up for at least an hour already, so I decided to call him. I went in the conference room and used the land line, so I could listen to my mom's message with my dad on the line if he wanted me to.

I was only one ring in when my dad picked up the phone. "Hello?" he said. Damn, he sounded old. I'd talked to him last week – had he aged that much in such a short time?

"Hey, Billy, it's me," I said. I always called him by his first name.

"Jake!" He immediately sounded younger, and happy. "How the hell are you, son? Where you at now, Florida?"

I grinned. He knew exactly where I was; he followed the Wolves like one of those pre-teen girls. He was on the internet all day, reading every review.

"Yeah, Miami," I said. "How's everything there?"

"Great, Jake, just great," he said. Everything was always 'great' when I called.

"How's the girls?" I asked, wondering about my sisters.

"They're good. I heard from Rebecca the other day, and Rachel takes good care of me." I could hear the smile in my old man's voice. My sister Rachel lived with my dad. Her twin lived in Hawaii with her husband, a Samoan surfer. "How've you been? I hear you did Made of Win in Milwaukee."

"Yeah, it was pretty great, I have to admit. You saw the reviews?"

"Damn right, and they got it straight for once. You're the best thing that band's got." He always said that – but after all, he was my dad. He was allowed to be proud of me. I laughed, and Billy continued. "And who's this little hottie in the Miami paper today? She's cute."

"Wow, you don't miss a trick, do ya?" I grinned. See what I mean? He's like a stalker. "She's a close friend so far, pops."

"So you finally got the nerve to ask a girl out, huh?" my dad said. "It's about time."

I laughed. "Actually, she's pretty awesome."

My dad gasped in mock horror. "What? Am I hearing this right? Did Jake Black just say something nice about a girl?"

"Cut it out, man," I laughed.

We caught up on the rez news and I filled him in on some of the plans we had for the rest of the tour. He loved hearing about my success. After about ten minutes, though, we wound down, and I knew it was time to bring up my mom.

"So Billy, I got a phone call last night," I said, suddenly serious.

Billy could tell in my tone that this was an important subject. "Oh, yeah?" he said warily.

"It was from Mom."

Silence.

"Billy?" I said after a long pause.

"And what did she say?" he asked, his voice calm and even.

"Well, she left me a voicemail. I haven't listened to it yet." There was another long silence. "So I don't really know what to do. Should I listen to it?"

I heard him take a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. "I don't know how you can't," he finally said. "Aren't you curious?"

"Well…yeah, I'm curious. But I wanted to talk to you first."

"I'd listen to it if I were you," he said slowly.

"You want to listen with me?" I asked. "I could play it now."

"How can you play it now?" asked Billy. "Aren't you on your phone?"

My dad, ladies and gentlemen. He answered his phone, knowing it wasn't a number he recognized. And yet, he thinks I called from my phone. Old people, am I right?

"Billy, I'm calling from the hotel land line."

"Oh, right." There was a pause. "Well, okay, go ahead and play it. I'm ready."

My heart pounded while I got the voicemail going and put it on speaker. I did the same with the conference room phone so he'd be able to hear everything. "Okay, here goes," I warned him. And like a trip back through the past, I heard my mother's voice for the first time in fifteen years.

"Hello, Jacob. It's Sarah, your mother. I know it's been a long time, and I'm so…so sorry about that. I would love to talk to you and…and try to explain why I did what I did. I want to say right up front that I'm not contacting you because of your success. I don't need money. It's because I want to reconnect with my son…" Here I heard a little sob in her voice, and it almost made me cry. "And make what went wrong right. Please call me back when you're ready to talk to me. I love you, Jacob, and I've always loved you and I always will love you. I hope you can find it in your heart to call me."

There was silence on the other end of the hotel's land line. "Dad?" I finally said, and then I realized I hadn't called him 'Dad' in at least a decade.

"It's been a long time since I heard that voice," Billy said. I couldn't judge from his tone how he was taking it. "I…I wish you were here, Jake."

It must have taken a lot for a guy like my dad to admit something like that. He was a rough old dude, my dad, and he'd been through a lot. I knew this would hit him hard.

"I know, I know," I said. "I'm sorry."

He cleared his throat. "I think you should call her back when you feel like you can talk to her, son," he advised. "She must have something important to say if she's calling you."

"Okay, Billy. I will," I said. I didn't know until that exact second that I would, but because my dad told me to, I knew I'd follow through.

"And uh… tell her I send my best," he added. Wow. I felt bad for my dad, and I didn't like that. I wasn't a good feeling, having sympathy for a parent.

"I will, pops, and I'll call you just as soon as I talk to her," I said.

"Okay, son. You take care of yourself now. And say hello to that sweetie you've got. Tell her I want to meet her."

"Will do. See ya, Billy." We hung up just as Edward came into the conference room.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry, Jacob, I didn't know anyone was in here," he said, starting to back out the door.

"No, that's okay, it's fine, Edward," I said. "I was using the phone but I'm done."

He looked at me warily. "Did you call your mother back?" he asked carefully.

"No, I was talking to my dad. I wanted to get his take on it first," I said. I wasn't a hundred percent comfortable with talking to him about it, but I didn't want to be rude, either.

"I see," he said, sitting down at the big table across from me. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I shrugged. "I think I'm okay. My dad said to call her so I will. Soon."

"It's difficult when a person from your past appears," he said philosophically. "I know Paul worries about it. From what I gather, his mother was somewhat of a loose cannon on deck." Man, Brits had some strange expressions. I'd heard the phrase 'loose cannon,' but never 'loose cannon on deck.' It made me chuckle a little.

"Yeah, I'm sure he's worried now. My mom and his were pretty close friends. If she's found me, it's probably only a matter of time before Paul's mom finds him."

"Another reason to keep a lid on the publicity," Edward said.

"If Paul's mom finds him, it will only be because she wants money," I said.

"How do you know your mother isn't the same?" asked Edward carefully.

I sighed. "I don't know; maybe she does. But she made a point to say she didn't," I replied.

"Oh. Well, that's encouraging."

"I guess," I said.

There was a lull in the conversation, and then Edward said, "Bellar is awake, by the way. She's in the kitchen with Diego."

"Ah, Ed, that reminds me. What would you think of taking Diego on?"

"To do what?" Edward asked.

"The same stuff he does here. Take care of the band on the road. You have to admit, he's really good at it."

"I don't know if I could justify a butler for the band," Edward said, like it was the most absurd thing he'd ever heard.

"Then don't call him a butler. He can be your assistant. I think he'd be an asset. It would be nice for you to have an assistant besides Alice – since she seems overly preoccupied with the girls now." Shit, I could see it in his eyes. He was going to shut me down.

"I don't need another assistant," he pointed out. "And I'm not sure how much musical background he has."

"What musical background? The backup singers didn't have any either and you hired them to sing onstage! What about an assistant for me and Paul? Come on, Ed. I like this guy. I want him on board. You just hired umpteen roadies without batting an eye, you can hire one more person." I fired off all my arguments quick, like bullets, so he wouldn't have time to think.

Ed shook his head, but he looked at me like he might just let me have my way for once. "I'll think about it. We're having a band meeting at two. We can talk about it then."

"Fair enough," I said, getting up. I left him in the conference room and went to find Bella.

She was on her way upstairs when I caught up with her. She looked at me, red faced and shy, while I caught her by the hand and gave her a kiss. "What's wrong, baby?" I asked.

"Nothing," she said, hiding her face in my chest. "I was just getting ready to put on my swimsuit. Rose and I wanted to go out and lay by the pool."

Ohhhh, God, Bella in a bikini, that expanse of white skin stretching out in the warm sun…I almost popped a boner right there on the stairs. "You know there's a band meeting at two," I said.

"No, I didn't know," Bells responded. "But we can be back in by then; it's only 10:30 or so. Do you, um…do you wanna come too?"

"Yeah, why not?" I said. It might give me a chance to talk to her about my phone call. I wanted to bounce it off her too. After all, I hadn't even told her about my mom yet. I felt like I probably should, since we were getting…I dunno…serious.

We both went upstairs and she went in the bathroom to change while I just slipped off my ratty sweats and pulled on a pair of board shorts. Luckily, Diego had already switched out our robes and put two new ones in our room, so I put one of those on and waited for Bells.

And oh my God was it worth the wait.

She came out of the bathroom looking like every teenage kid's wet dream. Long, sexy legs leading up to a tiny bikini bottom, flowered with little ruffles or some shit around the waistband. Pink ties at the hips, the knotted ends just brushing her sleek thighs. Smooth, flat stomach with just a tiny hint of softness just below her navel. Tiny little waist leading up to her spectacular boobs, outlined in the same flowery material with the frills along her cleavage. And tiny pink straps, no thicker than a strand of spaghetti, tied behind her neck. Holy fuck, I was gonna lose it.

"Goddamn, baby," I groaned, moving across the room to pull her in. I palmed her ass and ground into her, my face scrunching up in actual pain. This shit had to stop. I couldn't take it any more. "You can't keep on doing this to me, hon. You're driving me up the fuckin wall," I growled, bending my head down to kiss her. I was big time aggressive with this kiss, too. I was getting real sick of waiting.

I thought I'd surprise her with this kiss being so forceful, but no. She kissed me back eagerly and pressed her nearly naked body into mine, meeting my hips with hers. Fuck! This girl was gonna be the death of me.

"What about you?" she panted, whispering against my lips. "You look amazing in those shorts."

What? Did she just call me out on this? Because she was the one holding out, not me!

"If I'm making you crazy, honey, you've only got yourself to blame. I'm right here, ready," I said, my voice low and husky.

"I noticed," she said, cupping a hand over my cock and pressing way too lightly. I closed my eyes and shook my head.

"Okay, that's enough," I said. I stepped back, taking her hand off my crotch. Yeah, I did. Because I didn't want to go downstairs sporting a big triumphant boner. "If you're not careful, Bells, I'm gonna initiate a no contact rule. You're making me nuts, here."

"Go ahead and try," she said with a sly grin over her shoulder as she walked away to get her robe. "I'd be willing to bet you couldn't keep it up."

Fuck. She was right. I leaned my head back and sighed at the ceiling. It was gonna be another long afternoon.

Coming up:

She gave a little moan of sympathy and reached a hand out to caress my forearm. "Are you sure you're okay?" she pressed.

"No," I said, smiling at her to take the desperation out of my answer. "But you keep that up, maybe move it a little to the left, and I'll be great." I faked a big grin.