"You said that already."
"It bears repeating. You— okay. Okay. Let me just— I need a second." Devon scrunches his forehead and I suck in my lips to stop myself from talking, determined to give him all the seconds he needs. And he needs approximately three of them before his eyebrows shoot up and his eyes meet mine again. "That picture I sent you. You…" He trails off, eyes dropping to my stomach like he's imagining what's underneath my clothes. "You jerked off to a picture I sent you? Of my body?"
The wave of heat that rolls through me is hard to ignore, but I do my best. "Technically, I jerked off while imagining your face on that body I didn't know was yours. But yes."
"Oh my God."
"You keep saying that."
"Because my brain is broken! You broke my brain! I've been pining over you like an idiot, convinced nothing could ever happen given that, oh, I don't know, you'restraight."
The last word sounds like an accusation, and I can't help but chuckle. "I never said I was straight."
"You literally said 'I'm straight' multiple times."
"Clearly I was working through some stuff."
Devon laughs. "You're unreal, you know that?"
"Is that good or bad?"
"I haven't decided yet." He picks up his whiskey, takes a long sip, and sets it back down. His hand is steady. Mine wouldn't be. "You could've just not told me. You could've kept your secret."
"I thought about it."
"Why didn't you?"
A slew of answers floods my brain all at once, all true.
Because it felt wrong. Because you deserve better. Because now I want you, and it's confusing, and I have no fucking idea what to do about it.
"You sent me a video," I say instead.
Devon goes momentarily still, like he's just learning that detail instead of remembering.
I continue. "And I started to watch it." My mouth is suddenly dry, like I've just swallowed a handful of sand with no chaser. "I saw the beginning. Saw you—" I stop, because I can still see it. That frozen frame. His hand on his cock. The bead of precum at the tip.Jesus, I can't be thinking of that in public. "But then I stopped, because you didn't know it was me you were sending it to. And that felt..." I search for the right word. "Wrong."
Devon's quiet for a long moment, long enough that I start to panic. Still, I'm committed to giving him the space he needs and not straight up shouting,'Just say something'.
Finally, he says, "You didn't watch it." Not a question.
I shake my head. "I deleted it."
And then, all that tension bursts like a flimsy soap bubble as Devon pulls a face and jerks his head back. "Umm, hello?My ego?"
I snort out another chuckle and run my fingers through my hair, some of the tension in my shoulders finally subsiding. "For what it's worth, it was hard," I say, then quickly add, "deleting it," as a devious smirk already forms on his face.
"Did you want to watch it?"
His eyes are locked on mine, intensity back.
"Yes," I admit. "I wanted to."
"That's probably the most decent thing anyone's ever done for me. Which says a lot about my dating history, but still."
"I'm not trying to be decent. I'm trying to be honest."
He stares into my eyes, his gaze swirling, intent, like he's reading me chapter by chapter, taking his time, giving me the longest silence yet. And just as I think the conversation is over, that he didn't like what he found on the pages of my mind he somehow gained access to, he leans in, his face the closest it's been to mine since the kiss, and asks, "Would you like to see it in person?" His voice is so low and deep it sounds like it's coming from someone else.
