Three hours later, I’m standing outside his door, wondering if I should have worn something nicer than just a T-shirt and shorts if I want him to fool around with me again. I mean, was the fact that I was dressed up nicely yesterday why he suddenly decided to upgrade our friendship package to include orgasms? Maybe I need to maintain that fashion standard to get access to his cock.
But then Jared opens the door in his gray sweatpants and a fitted black tee, and suddenly, my clothing choices are the least of my problems.
“Hey,” he says. “Come in.” His hand goes to his hair, messing it up like he does when he’s anxious.
“Hey,” is my stunningly original response.
“Food’s not due for another hour. You want a cider?”
“Sure.”
He grabs a cider for me and a beer for himself from the fridge, and I follow him to the couch, trying not to stare at the way his sweatpants sit low on his hips. He plops down in his usual spot, grabbing the remote like everything is normal. Like my brain hasn’t just launched into the best memory replay known to man just from seeing him.
I sit next to him, close enough that our thighs almost touch but not quite. I can smell his shampoo, something citrus and clean that makes me want to bury my face in his neck.
The episode starts, but I’m not paying close attention to it. I’m too busy focusing on the way the light from the TV catches the stubble on his jaw. The way his throat moves when he takes a sip of beer. How his hand rests on his thigh, fingers splayed, and all I can think about is those fingers on me.
It feels stupid to suffer here in silence. We already agreed to friends with benefits.
But what if he’s changed his mind? What if having a day to reflect on it has made him realize I’m not worth the complication?
I take a large gulp of my cider before setting it down.
I nudge his foot with mine. “So, um…”
Jared raises an eyebrow. “So?”
“You want to?”
“Do I want to what?”
I clear my throat so I can push words past the lump. “You know. Fool around.”
A smile comes over his face. “Is that your best seductive technique?” he asks, but his hand moves to my knee, his thumb stroking a line across it.
“I can do better,” I say, and whip off my shirt in what I hope is a sexy way but probably looks more like I’m fighting fabric. “How’s this?”
He eyes up my chest. “Definitely getting better.” His voice is husky.
“Wait until you see my next move.” I strip off my shorts and wave them around my head.
He starts to laugh, so maybe it doesn’t have quite the desired effect I’m hoping for.
But then he’s pulling me to him and kissing me, his laughter transforming into something else entirely.
His mouth is hot and insistent against mine, and I realize my shorts are still dangling ridiculously from my hand.
I drop them so I can tangle my hands in his hair and pull him even closer to me.
When I pull back from the kiss, I’m puffing slightly. “It appears my shorts move had the desired effect. Which is good, as I’ve been practicing it in the mirror.”
Jared’s eyes crinkle in the corners. “Please tell me that’s not true.”
“Patches was very impressed. She gave me a solid seven out of ten.”
“Only seven?” His fingers trail down my chest, making me shiver. “She’s a harsh critic.”
“She deducted points because I knocked over her water bowl during the finale.” I’m trying to maintain the banter, but his hands are making it increasingly difficult to form coherent thoughts. “Very unprofessional of me.”
