Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 71212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Tristan’s eyes flicked downward before coming back up to meet mine. I realized I was standing there in just my red-and-blue plaid boxers. I was in such a rush to get to Tristan’s side that a shirt and sweats were the last of my worries. Tristan was also in his sleeping clothes, but that at least included a black tank top and shorts.
“I, uhm,” Tristan said, clearing his throat and rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“No, I can take the couch. You get the bed.”
“I’m not kicking you out of your own bed.”
I cocked my head, amused when Tristan’s eyes dropped back down for a brief moment. “We can split it, then. I’ve got a California king. Plenty of space.”
Tristan appeared to consider the idea. For a second, I thought he was going to say no. It would likely be way too much temptation. It would go against everything we had talked about earlier.
But I really didn’t want to sleep on the couch.
“Fine,” he said, grabbing his pillow and phone. “Let’s have a sleepover, then.”
The smile grew on my face and spread to his. I tried to tamp it down, but it was useless. So instead, I turned and led Tristan over to my bedroom, turning on the light so he could get situated. I got into bed and pulled the heavy blue comforter over me, trying not to focus on Tristan’s perky ass as he set up his phone and charger on the nightstand.
“Sorry about that,” I said again as Tristan got into bed. The mattress dipped in his direction, as if the inanimate object was trying to push us together.
“Seriously, don’t stress it. Have you seen the state of disrepair my house is in? I wish it was just a guest bed I had to take care of.”
“What’s the list? Maybe we can work on it together. I’m a pretty good handyman.”
Tristan chuckled at that. He got under the covers and fluffed up the pillow.
I wasn’t sure what part of me was responsible for the instant boner—the primate part of my brain, the caveman part of my brain, or the highly evolved part of my brain. Likely none of them, all three parts melting away so that the lowest part of my brain could take control.
“The list is as long as a Walgreens receipt.”
“You mean CVS? Walgreens aren’t all that bad.”
Tristan laughed again, the sound sweet enough to drink, like the most expensive bottle of wine pulled from the cellar and poured into a glass underneath a warm summer sun.
God damn, now Tristan’s turning me into a writer.
“Yeah, CVS,” Tristan clarified. “I don’t always say the right thing on the first go—that’s something you’ll learn about me if you haven’t already. Thank God for editors, huh?”
It was my turn to laugh. The bounce of my belly shook the head of my hard cock, pulling all my attention to the rising flames that were about to turn my bedsheets into ash. “What’s at the top of the list, then?” I asked.
“Hmm, I guess my shower. I haven’t had good water pressure in months. It feels like I’m showering underneath someone’s piss stream.”
That got a snort out of me. “I’ll see if I can fix it,” I said when the laughter died down, leaving my dark bedroom back in a silky soft silence. Moonlight crept in through the drawn curtains, adding a milky white sheen to the curves of my bedposts and the dark woods of my dresser.
The silence stretched, enveloping us like the comforter that we both shared. The conversation may have died down, but the needy ache between my thighs only grew stronger, louder. I rolled over so that I was on my stomach, but that only made things worse as I stretched a leg out and pushed my hips down onto the mattress, the pressure inside me building instead of easing.
I turned back over and lay in bed, looking up at the dark ceiling, barely able to make out any of the lines in the air vent. My brain buzzed like I had drank three mugs of extra-strong coffee before getting under the covers.
And it wasn’t just my brain that buzzed but my entire body. Having Tristan so close made the room feel twenty-five degrees hotter. We were separated by mere inches and a couple of flimsy articles of clothing. I could have him again, have him underneath me. I wanted to feel his cock sliding against mine. The pulsing against the comforter only proved my point. There hadn’t been a man in this bed since… well, not since Christopher.
And that didn’t exactly turn out well.
Christopher. My longest relationship and my most visceral fucking heartbreak. I thought he was the one. Had a ring picked out and everything. But it all came crashing down one night after a fight over some suspicious text messages.