She's a scream . . . literally
LISA
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I lie on the bed as Jennie hangs up another delicate dress. She's up to five by the time I lose interest and begin browsing the room service menu. Does the woman know we're in Vegas, and not Manhattan? We only came for a weekend but the amount of girly shit she's pulled out of those cases since we arrived surprises even me.
She twists her hair up at the back of her head and uses a chopstick-looking thing to spear it through and hold it in place. Even the nape of her neck is sexy as fuck. Dainty. Like you could wrap your hand around it and . . . whoa. Okay, I know this bet is a stupid decision I made with my even stupider brother, but either I had one too many drinks on that flight or I'm sitting here fantasizing about Pop Tart. I mean, she is a woman, so it's not like it's too far of a stretch for me to conjure up dirty scenarios of me fucking her from behind, but I seriously need to take a huge fucking step back. Or a cold shower.
Speaking of cold showers . . . next door there's a moan. A moan from Chan. And if that isn't the equivalent of dousing my crotch with ice-cold water, I don't know what is. I glance at Jennie, who has stopped moving in front of the wardrobe and is staring at the wall separating our room from theirs. As if she can sense my gaze, she lifts her head high and turns, smoothing down her pencil skirt. Her eyes are sparkling, but I only catch a glimpse before she clears her throat and turns back to her cases on the bed.
"Does that bother you?" I ask, because I genuinely want to know. I have no idea if she's still in love with Chan. The way he tells it, their breakup was a mutual decision, but it can't be easy seeing your best friend not just move in on your ex, but marry him. Not to mention having to listen to them fucking through paper-thin hotel room walls.
"Does what bother me?"
There's another moan from the other side of the wall. This one Chaeng's . . . unless my buddy's balls have suddenly crawled inside his ass and turned into ovaries. "That."
Jennie turns with a sweater set in her hands and moves back to the wardrobe with a forced smile. "Why should it bother me?"
"Seriously, Pop Tart?"
"I think I need a shower," she says abruptly, and gathers her things. The bed is hitting the wall now and Chaeng's moans are quite frankly annoying as hell. I like a woman to be responsive in bed. The more vocal the better, as it means I'm doing something right—like there is any chance of me not knowing what a woman wants in bed—but this is next-level moaning. I can't help but think it's all for Jennie's benefit. Which is just shitty, from both of them. Compelled by my anger, I shoot up off the bed, march across the room, and bang on the wall.
"Keep it the fuck down. Jesus."
Silence.
Jennie turns and stares at me. She has her arms full of clothing and toiletries, and she's shaking ever so slightly. She's ready to bolt. "Thank you."
"No problem." I shrug, and just like that she turns and quietly steps into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
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