But it’s not her hand.
Can’t be her hand.
I can see both of her hands.
Nowallof me is sweating.
Who’s gripping my dick? Someone is. Aren’t they?
I give him a little wiggle with my hips.
Oh, yeah. Someone isdefinitelyholding onto my cock.
Her brows furrow. “Theo?”
“Did someone sneak in here and put a fake hand around my woody?” I whisper.
Not outside the realm of possibility here. I’ve seen weirder shit.
I might’ve been involved in doing weirder shit a time or two.
Her lip curls. “What are youtalkingabout?”
“Show me both of your hands.”
She doesn’t break eye contact while she shows me her hands, one at a time so she can keep the sheet covering her breasts. I don’t tell her I can still see all of the exposed skin on her back from her shirt riding up, and it’s making me harder, despite Inner Sex Freak Theo’s disappointment that she’s not laid out like a morning buffet for me to feast on.
Fucking morning hormones.
“Someone’s holding my dick,” I say.
“Very funny.”
“They are.”
She huffs. “Look, I understand men haveneeds, but can you pleasenotjerk offin the same damn bed as me?”
“I’m not fucking—are we alone?”
“Yes, Theo, we’re alone.”
“Someone is holding my dick.”
“It’s clearly not me, so it must be you.”
“I think I’d know if I was holding my own dick.”
She sucks in a deep breath through her nose, closing her eyes as she does it, and when her entire body lets that breath out, she opens her eyes and stares at me exactly the same way she did every single day in high school.
Like I’ma problem.
And one more time for the peanut gallery,I do not want my hormones to be attracted to this woman.
I had no idea my sister hated me so much. Yet here we are.
“So lift up the sheet,” she grits out, “andlook.”
Huh.
