What the hell was happening?
“I know you hated it.” He was still mumbling, burying his face against my neck. “And I’m sorry. But I can’t get it...you,out of my head.”
A shiver raced up my spine. He ground his hips against mine, the hard line of him digging right into my hip. I’d never been this close to him before—not like this. We’d hugged as boys, wrapped an arm around each other’s necks as teenagers.
My teeth hurt from how hard I crushed them together, fighting the urge to draw him even closer so I could sink my teeth into his shoulder, leave a permanent mark there to prove to the both of us that this was real.
But it wasn’t. It couldn’t be.
“Fuck,” he muttered into my neck.
CHAPTER 16
Avery
I was in trouble.
Pulling in a deep lungful of Brandon’s intoxicating smell wasn’t enough. I wanted to taste him, to drag my tongue up his neck and make my way to those pouty lips of his and see just how soft they were pinched between my teeth.
I couldn’t stop the slow thrusts, letting my eyes fall closed with each press of my dick against his, hardening until it was almost painful. Some primitive part of my brain was overtaking the rational side of me, the one screamed to take a step back and let Brandon go.
His fingers were wrapped around the front of my shirt in a death-like grip, another delicious sounding gasp falling from his lips the moment I gave in and let my tongue swipe at the skin right below his ear.
Oh, fuck.
What would happen if I reached down between us and pulled both of our cocks out and began rubbing them together?
How many more sounds would come tumbling out of Brandon’s mouth?
What other noises was he capable of making while being turned on?
Hands shoved at my chest hard enough to knock me back. I stumbled, just barely catching my own footing before I ended up ass-backward on the floor. Panting, I swallowed thickly while trying to blink the cloudiness out of my vision.
The tent in the front of my pants was obvious, there was no way to get around that. Even if I wanted to try and explain it away, what was no point. Not when I’d just been grinding up against Brandon like that.
Fuck, he was going to tell me to go to hell.
I’d be lucky if I didn’t get a good fist to the face before he ran out of here and never saw me again.
His eyes were pinballing between my own, searching for something that I wasn’t too sure he’d end up finding no matter how hard he looked. There was no rational explanation to any of this—none that I could articulate, at least.
Whatever happened to my brain the morning after going out with Marlow and Silas had caused some fundamental change in me. One where getting turned on by my childhood best friend’s soft moans and the smell of his sweat-soaked skin was completely normal.
The first step Brandon took toward me had some hesitation behind it. A tentativeness that wasn’t lost on me, nor would be questioned. Clearly, we were walking on a thin tightrope here with neither of us knowing what the fuck we were doing. Where the fuck any of this was going.
He took another, and then another until he was close enough to me again to shove me backward. “On the bed.”
My heart thumped in my chest.
Obediently, I stepped back until the back of my knees hit the side of my bed, tipping back until my ass was planted firmly on the edge of it. His hands clenched and unclenched into fists at his sides, an unsure expression passing over his face while he scoped down the length of me.
A part of me wanted to ask if he liked what he saw. The other didn’t want to know. Rejection from him would sting like a bullet blasting through my body, mowing down everything in the path of its trajectory.
His clothes were slightly wrinkled from where I’d had a hold of him, the impression of my handprints just visible enough to me to stir up some weird psychologically possessive part of my brain that relished in the thought of marking him.
“Lie down.” His voice was soft, barely above a whisper.
I scooted back onto the bed, doing as I was told, my arm coming up to prop my upper half up from the mattress to keep my eyes on him.
