No way on God’s green earth am I about to spoon Lia.
“Please, Breaker. I could really use the comfort.”
Well . . . fuck . . . me.
“Um, do you think Brian would like to know that I held you at night?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do,” I say. “He would hate it.”
“It’s not like it matters. I’m not cheating on him. You’re my best friend, my family, the only person who can truly make me feel at peace. If you were a girl, I’d ask you to do the same.”
“You would?” I ask.
“Of course. I used to spoon with my mom all the time.”
Ah, so she sees me as a motherly figure. I can’t hear that enough.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” she says in such a defeated tone that I can actually feel my heart twist in my chest.
“No, I can,” I reply quickly. “Just, you know, checking all of my bases is all.” I lift my arm and hover it over her for a few seconds. Do I just . . . cuddle her? Or should I just lightly drape my burly man arm over the curve of her waist to make it seem like we’re spooning, but in reality, I’m just using her as a human armrest?
The human armrest thing feels very rewarding, so I gently place my forearm on her waist, my hand extended straight out and lifting the blankets.
Eh, that doesn’t work, so I lift my arm again and hover. I adjust, touch down on her waist, and notice the same thing.
Nope, back to hover.
I don’t know where to drape. Not over her boobs, those as we found out from her hanging bra are loose and wild at the moment.
There’s her stomach, but is that too intimate?
Which leaves her pelvic area, and well, not so sure that’s a great idea either. Hand to pelvis doesn’t scream platonic, more like one stroke away from legs spread and loud moans.
Luckily, I don’t have to debate it too long because she lowers my arm around her stomach and scoots in closer so her body is plastered against mine.
Right up against me.
Back to chest.
Butt to . . . *gulp* crotch.
Sweet Jesus, man . . . do not get a goddamn boner.
Penis, do you hear me? This is not a moment to defy me. Be a good fucking listener.
Think of flaccid things. FLACCID. Flaccid, floppy, dangly, pendulous...limp.There you go.
OH, I could think of things that are so repulsive that I’d rather hurl my head into my trash can than think about.
Ahhh, I know.
I squeeze my eyes shut and conjure up images of JP and his dirty pigeon friend. What’s its name?
Cocoon?
Carl?
