“She said it was casual.” But his voice lacked conviction.
I shrugged, pretending a nonchalance I didn’t feel. “People say a lot of things when they’re scared. Doesn’t make them true.” “You think she’s scared?”
“Yeah. And it doesn’t all have to be figured out right this minute. We need patience.”
“You? Patience.”
I stuck out my tongue at him. “I can be patient. I survived several days after our kiss without once touching your cock.”
“Is that what happened though?”
“Of course. Trust me, I’ve been crushing on Aimee for years and I bided my time, waiting for the right moment. I know what I’m talking about.”
Troy studied me for a long moment, something shifting in his expression. “I do trust you. Implicitly.”
“Really?” I scoffed, trying to hide how much his words affected me. “Even when I’m thinking with my dick?”
He laughed. “Maybe a little less then. But the rest of the time? As much as I hate to admit it, you make good calls, both at work and in our friendships.”
“Oh my god, you’re not admitting that the kittens were the right choice, are you?” I couldn’t resist the urge to tease him, but as I snuggled close, my chest tightened with something warm and unfamiliar. Troy saw past my clown act, my deliberate goofiness. I’d always known that my best friend saw the parts of me I kept hidden from most people, but the more intimacy we shared, the more that understanding sharpened and settled into something I couldn’t ignore.
Before Troy could say more, the bathroom door opened, and Aimee emerged wearing nothing but my discarded t-shirt. It hung loose on her, the hem barely covering the curve of her ass, and my mouth went dry at the sight.
“Hey.” Her voice was carefully casual as she crossed her arms over her chest and eyed us. “You’re still in here? Did you forget about the donuts?”
“Donuts!” I yelped, leaping off the bed. “Pink Pony! I forgot!”
I sprinted naked down the hall toward the kitchen, Aimee’s laughter trailing behind me. The pink box sat untouched on the counter, and I snatched it up, feeling disproportionately relieved that my precious maple bacon monsters were intact.
“Get your asses to the living room,” I called down the hall. “I’ll make coffee.”
When they wandered out, Troy gloriously naked, I herded them to the couch. Troy plopped down, naked and manspreading across half of the couch, his spent cock lying heavily across his flat abs. Aimee hesitated, and I gave her a little shove toward him.
“It’s just donuts, Aims.”
“We could eat donuts clothed and at the table,” she pointed out.
“We all know you’re naked under that t-shirt.” Troy grabbed a throw pillow and tucked it behind his head. “Come on, snuggle me. I’m cold.”
Aimee stuck her tongue out at him, then plopped down beside him. “Again, something that could be solved with clothes.”
I rushed over to the kitchen, pouring coffee into three mugs and bringing them over, setting each on a coaster, then went back for the donuts. “Why bother with clothes? I like to be in the buff. And the couch is pleather. It can handle a little frosting.” I arranged the overloaded pink box on the coffee table and took a seat on Aimee’s other side, then opened the box with a flourish.
Troy selected an apple fritter. “Fuck, how many donuts did you think we needed?”
“Aimee is recovering from a traumatic experience. Everyone knows donuts are medicine for trauma.” I grabbed a maple bacon donut and took an enormous bite, humming with pleasure as the sweet-savory combination hit my tongue. “I bet you talk about that all the time on your podcast, Aims. Donuts for trauma.”
Aimee laughed, the tension in her shoulders easing. “Haven’t covered that yet. Do you have a source for your research?” She leaned in, selecting a jelly-filled donut and taking a big bite. “Okay, yeah, these are good for pretty much any emotion, I think.”
She took another bite, and a dollop of raspberry filling escaped, landing on her chin. Before she could wipe it away, I leaned in and licked it off her skin.
She froze, her eyes widening before a slow smile spread across her face. “Resourceful.”
“I’ve been told I’m excellent at cleaning up messes.”
Troy swiped a finger through the frosting on my donut. “Is that right?” He smeared the sticky sweetness across my cheek before leaning in to lick it off with slow, teasing strokes of his tongue.
My body responded instantly to his touch. “That’s cheating,” I gasped. “You made the mess yourself.”
