“Oh fuck. On top?”
“Yes.”
“And they saw everything?”
“Everything.”
The sound of distress coming from him makes my lips twitch. It’s either that or cry.
“Oh, come on. It’s not fucking funny, man. They won’t let me live it down. They saw me needy as fuck.”
Interesting. He’s not upset they saw him on top of another man, but that he was needy.
What the hell does that mean?
Do not overthink it, I tell myself. He said he wasn’t gay. I know he’s not.
It was the fever that brought it out of him. He just wanted to be comforted.
His finger reaches out and pokes me. That makes me jerk back, the touch unexpected. Unwanted.
I don’t want it.
“You shouldn’t have cuddled with me in front of them.”
I huff, part annoyance and part humor. “I wasn’t cuddling.Youwere cuddling withme.”
He groans again and throws his arm over his face. I stare at his arms a little too long.
“What else did I do while they were here?”
“You really want to know?”
He opens one eye, and my heart skips into a quick, uneven rhythm.
“Yeah, I do.”
“Well, you said a few things.”
His brows meet. “Just tell me, Whit.”
I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t. “You said I smelled good and didn’t know why. You kept sniffing me.” I clear my throat, remembering specific words slipping from his lips. “You also said my skin was soft and ran your hands up and down my face.”
“Oh shit.”
“It’s not over.”
“Oh fuck.”
“You also rambled some and said you were gay from the fever. Not sure what that means, but your cousins latched on to that one word and now think we’re together.”
“Oh, damn it all to hell,” he grunts, and I hold my breath, my finger sneaking out and touching his skin softly. It’s warm and tight.
I pull back as quickly as I can, but it’s too late. He’s noticed.
He stops breathing, and I know I need to interject something to distract him from it.
“It’s okay. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. You were really out of it.”
