Taylor sent Freddie a quick text, letting her know that she’d explain later, then set the phone facedown on the coffee table. “I should have been better prepared. I knew I couldn’t keep this thing between me and Jamar from my family for long.”

“Were you trying to keep it from them?” London asked.

“Not really. I just…I don’t know…thought if I didn’t mention it, they possibly wouldn’t find out? I know, I know,” she admitted before either could say anything. “I should know better after that whole viral video thing with Craig.” Taylor hunched her shoulders. “I’m not good when it comes to lying to my family, okay? Especially when it comes to my mom and dad. Back when I was a teenager, I used to tell them beforehand that I was going to sneak out of the house, because I knew they would find out anyway.”

Samiah and London burst out laughing.

“It’s true,” Taylor said. “Most of the time they stopped me, but after a while they just told me to be careful and lock my window when I snuck back in.” She shook her head. “I’m not sure Dad would be so understanding about me willfully deceiving the public. He’s like…frighteningly honest. Like, if McDonald’s puts an extra McNugget in his six-piece, he’ll drive back and give them fifty cents to cover the cost.”

“Damn, that’s hard-core.” London chuckled as she tore off a piece of the spongy flatbread and used it to soak up some curry. “Do you think Jamar would have a problem with you telling your family the truth?” she asked before popping the food in her mouth.

“It wouldn’t be fair of me to even ask,” Taylor said. “I’m the reason we have to go through with this whole fake dating nonsense in the first place. The fewer people who know this thing between us isn’t real, the better.”

Maybe she should remind herself of that every once in a while. Maybe then she wouldn’t allow him to feel her up in the rain while kissing the ever living fuck out of her.

Taylor seesawed between being completely vexed with her raging horniness and being upset that she’d put an end to their kiss. She should have followed his lead—no, screw that! She should have been the one leading him. She should have dragged him to the car and finally satisfied her curiosity about how those powerful thighs of his felt against her hands. And against other parts of her.

Kissing him had been a monumental lapse in judgment, but if she was going to feel this guilty, she should have at least gotten an orgasm or five for her trouble. Instead, she’d stayed awake nearly all night stressing about what would happen when she walked into his home gym this morning.

In the end, nothing had happened.