I curtseyed, like a fabulous idiot. “I do my best.”
“Here, let me show you the different styles.” He twirled the drumsticks, testing out different rock star personas, and tapped along to the beat.
I laughed and shed my fleece jacket. “Very nice. I like when you do it normally. Although I’d love to learn the twirl pullback thing.”
“Sit here, I’ll show you.” He patted the cushion in front of him.
It wasn’t his lap, exactly, but it wasn’t far off. I sat on the edge of the cushion with his legs framing mine. If I leaned back, I’d be resting against his cock and chest. I stretched and brushed his thighs.
He smiled against my ear and guided my fingers around the sticks. “You probably love the drums. You can hit stuff.”
“Thanks,” I huffed, then smacked the trackpad to the song he’d just played.
He reigned me in. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. That’s too hard.”
I furrowed my brow. “You’re supposed to hit it.”
“No wonder you busted the trackpad.” He chuckled. “You can do that on real drums, but on these, you’ve gotta be gentle, like this.” He guided me to a slow tempo.
Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum.
My heart pounded as I turned to him. “This isn’t as exciting.”
“Isn’t it?” He brushed my nose with his.
Without thinking, I leaned in. He kissed me, and I kissed him. We dropped the sticks, and for a second, he was just holding my hands. A good man. A good lover? A good friend.
Muddled longing jolted through my veins. This was too intimate. Too sweet.
I straddled his lap and kissed him deeper, sucking on his teasing tongue.
God, he was excellent.
Every time I flicked open a button on his shirt, his fingers skimmed higher under my top. My body simmered with anticipation. I took a second to rest my forehead against his and hid my palms in a thicket of chest hair. This was safe. Warm. I wanted to envelop him in a hug and tackle him to the couch, pepper him with kisses until we were numb to pleasure. He hummed, nuzzling closer.
I squeezed my eyes shut and throbbed with affection.
Fuck. I loved him.
We were supposed to be friends with benefits, not friends with feelings. He was in no place to return my affections, nor did I have the first idea on how to nurture them.
Maybe this was all a hormonal reaction, not an emotional one. Endorphins. Closeness. He’d had functional relationships, so he was likely used to managing this stuff.
I didn’t want to analyze it. I wanted to feel it. Something good, for once. With a friend I could trust.
“Are you okay?” he rasped, massaging my hips.
“Let’s move this somewhere more private.” I slid off his lap and took his hand. No matter what happened tonight, I wanted to be close to him.
23
Benefits
The only other guy who’d been in my room was my brother, and it was usually to annoy me. Sal intended to please me. Or at least hang out with me. My hands shook as I opened the door. Thankfully, I had been mulling over the possibility of my friend-with-benefits joining me and cleaned up throughout the week. I had fresh sheets, only one empty cup on my nightstand, and a respectable amount of not-quite laundry heaped by my closet.
“Nice, you got the master suite,” he said, looking around. “Must be nice to have your own bathroom. I have a couple roommates, and someone’s always forgetting to flush or leaving hair in the sink. I think it’s mostly this one guy, but he won’t admit to anything.” He narrowed his eyes.
I chuckled at the audacity of someone who could actually piss off Sal. “I don’t envy your situation. He sounds nasty.”
