My breath hitches and I swallow it back. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Look at me, please?” I shake my head. “Fine. You’re probably just going to hide when I say it anyway; you’ve held his balls and seen him come. Pretty sure he’s not going to give a fuck about you catching him mid-change, yeah?”
It feels suddenly hot, and I squeeze my arms tighter around myself. “I shouldn’t have followed him.”
Hatley snorts and it sounds so familiar to the noise that Tristen makes that my stomach rolls.
It’s quiet for a long moment before Hatley finally speaks again.
“Did you like it?” My whole body trembles. “Seeing him ass up?”Shakes. “Cheeks spread?”
I swallow hard, every muscle taut.
How did he know? How did he know? How?
My fingernails dig into my shins. My stomach claws up through my throat.
“He’s got a pretty ass, right, Em?”
“Yes!” I cry out on a sob and finally allow myself to register how tight my pants have gotten. How thick the shame feels in my throat.
How every time I close my eyes, all I see is him.
I shouldn’t want that. It’s not okay. It’s not.
“Hm,” is all Hatley says for a long time before he finally adds “it was the dimples, wasn’t it?”
A flash of the little divots, the two of them sitting just above the tan line across Tristen’s waist invades my mind and I shake them away. All it does is manage to dislodge the hoodie from covering my heated face.
“Yes,” I cry again and shove the material back over me. “I d-d-didn’t know guys could have those.”
My body is shaking, and my mind is racing but Hatley chuckles.
“The ass dimples got me, too.”
It feels so … ridiculous for him to say that and my stomach rolls over.
“Tristen’s?” I ask with a bit more edge to my voice.
“Nah. I mean, yeah. But not him specifically.” He snorts and something rustles like maybe he’s shaking his head. “Definitely gone for the ass dimples.”
“Stop saying that.”
“What? Ass dimples? No chance. They’re my kryptonite.”
A rough sound escapes my throat, and I clear it away.
“It’s wrong,” I mutter after a minute.
I no sooner get the regurgitated words out that Hatley is yanking my hoodie down and staring right at me.
His eyes flare with something that has me shrinking back.
“Explain.”
Shaking my head, I pull my arms up inside the body of the sweatshirt and grab at the neck, prepared to pull it back over my head.
“I shouldn’t,” I whisper and his head cocks.
