“I’m so fucking gone for you, Phern.”
I smile, breathless. “I know.”
And that’s how I end up in Will’s apartment.
One heated look across the street. One breathless phone call. One bar rendezvous that left us trembling and now, here.
After we clean up in silence, barely brushing shoulders in the narrow hallway, he flicks off the bathroom light and leads me to his bedroom with nothing more than a glance. No questions. No expectations. Just this.
The room smells like him. Cedar, soap, something faintly smoky. The sheets are rumpled, the lamp on low, and when I slip beneath the covers, he follows without a word.
His bed is warm. Big. Lived-in. I feel small in it but not alone.
We lie there for a long moment, facing each other in the hush between midnight and morning. His hand finds my waist beneath the blanket, thumb grazing the curve of my hip. It’s not sexual this time.
“You okay?” he asks softly, voice still husky from everything we didn’t say earlier.
I nod. “You?”
He brushes a strand of hair off my cheek. “I don’t think I’ve ever been better.”
I press closer, our legs tangling under the covers. His arm wraps around me tight, like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he doesn’t hold on.
“Go to sleep,” he murmurs against my temple.
But I don’t. Not yet. Because all I can think about is the way he touches me like I matter, like I’m not just another bad idea. And maybe, just maybe, neither of us will regret this in the morning.
The morning sunlight slips through the blinds, painting gold across my bare shoulder. I blink against it, groggy but warm. Too warm. Because Will’s still wrapped around me.
His chest is pressed to my back, one strong arm slung over my waist, the other tucked beneath my neck like I belong there. His breath fans over the curve of my neck, slow and steady. Peaceful. Until I shift. And realize he’s hard.
I bite my lip, trying not to move again, trying not to want again but it’s useless. Because the second I wiggle, even a little, his arm tightens.
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he rasps, voice thick with sleep.
I smile into the pillow. “I was just stretching.”
“Mm. Sure.” He shifts behind me, the motion pressing him right where I’m already aching. “You keep that up and I’m not gonna be a gentleman.”
“Were you ever?” I tease.
He growls low in his throat, nosing along the shell of my ear. “Not even close.”
His hand slips beneath the blanket, splaying over my stomach before sliding lower. “Tell me to stop,” he whispers, lips brushing my neck.
I don’t.
Instead, I press back into him, guiding his hand to where I need him most.
He curses under his breath, fingers finding me slick and ready. “Fuck, Phern…”
He touches me slow at first, like he wants to draw every sound out of me. His other hand palms my breast, teasing the nipple through the thin tank I never took off.
I gasp, my hips rocking against him. “Will.”
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, trailing kisses down my shoulder. “Let me take care of you.”
He slides two fingers inside me, curling just right, just enough to make my toes curl. His cock grinds against me through the cotton of his boxers, his mouth finding the pulse point behind my ear and sucking gently.
