“Was the training that hard?” I ask.
“No, it was fun, but you know… I tend to think a lot at night, and sometimes a movie helps.”
“True.”
“You can watch with me if you want, since you can’t sleep too.” Yeah, I can’t sleep because of you, you idiot. We’re not in the same boat.
“I saw there’s a second part of that movie we watched at your apartment.” Oh, that feels like ages ago.
“Really? I didn’t know it’s already out.”
His thumb clicks on the remote, and I can’t help but notice the way his biceps flex beneath his skin with even that small movement.
“Yeah, look.”
Yep, that’s part two.
The idea of curling up on the couch to watch the movie with him sounds exciting. Honestly, without my vibrator, I’m pretty sure I won’t find any relief tonight anyway. My room feels like a trap—just me, an empty bed, and a storm of lustful thoughts swirling around in my head. And still, I know I should say no, but instead, I say, “You don’t mind?”
“No, as long as you don’t mind that I’m too lazy to put a shirt on right now.”
“Of course not.” Please don’t. I want to stare at those shredded abs for as long as I can—even if it’s torture.
“Well, do you mind me sitting next to you in just an oversized shirt?”
He clears his throat. There’s a pause. That pause is unnaturally long… but then he says, “Nope. Not at all.”
Doesn’t actually sound like he’s thrilled I’m not putting on some pants… or a bra… but I’m too lazy to. “Okay, then start that thing.”
Once my tea is ready, I flop down on the couch and quickly wrap myself in a blanket, my thighs pressing together as I sink onto the couch. Colton stretches out beside me, his long frame taking up most of the remaining space, close enough that I can smell his soap again. It should feel awkward. It should feel like a line crossed. But somehow, the boundaries seem less important than they did weeks ago.
Then it hits—my hands. I never washed them. A flicker of worry rises, sharp and unwelcome. What if there’s still that musky trace clinging to my fingers? What if the scent is stronger than I think? The urge to check creeps in, almost impossible to ignore.
I just pull the blanket up to my nose.
“Cold?” he murmurs while the movie starts.
“A little.” Liar.
“Do you want me to fetch you a warmer blanket?”
“No, no, all good. Really. I have my…tea.”
Is it bad that I’d rather have his legs curled around me than a blanket? Yep. Guilty.
And that’s how we watch the movie, and of course at some point both of us pass out. And it wouldn’t be so bad when I’ wake up early in the morning curled up against him.
The moment I realize, my eyes shoot up. I’m holding onto him, my thigh glued to his. And one of my hands grabs his chest as if I’m drowning and he’s my buoy. That’s when I feel it.
My knee brushes against his cock, making it twitch, and it’s all I need to send a jolt of heat straight to my pussy. He’s pressed against me, his body a furnace, and I can’t take it anymore. I rock my hips, rubbing my clit against his hard thigh, feeling his cock stir and harden against my knee. His arm tightens around me, his hand splayed possessively on my hip, fingers digging into my flesh as if he wants to leave bruises. I can’t tell if he’s awake or if his body is just responding to mine, and I don’t care.I’m shameless, grinding against him like an animal in heat, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I don’t know what’s come over me, but it’s like every nerve in my body is drawn to him. I feel the roughness of his sweatpants against my inner thigh, the firmness of his muscle beneath. My hips move almost imperceptibly at first, a subtle rhythm that deepens as I feel the heat building between us. The edge of my panties catches on the seam of his pocket, the slight tug making me gasp as it shifts the fabric aside. I feel the slickness of my skin against his pants, against the hard muscles beneath, the friction sending jolts through my body.
We move and move and his dick hardens, pulse by pulse, it’s hot and heavy against my knee, his breath shallow on my neck. And then his right hand inches upward. The rough pad of his thumb finds the sensitive flesh of my inner thigh and traces it slowly.
I guess he’s wide awake too, but I don’t dare to open my eyes to check on him. I just pretend I’m asleep. As if I’m sleep-humping him right now, I don’t care, I just can’t anymore. I’m so horny and he’s the reason. When I lift my head, his lips meet mine, and I know he’s definitely not asleep because his tongue slides over mine with such force it takes the breath out of me. I gasp against his mouth, and then I stop thinking about it and kiss him back, and the room goes quiet except for the sound of my own breathing. His fingers are so close to where I need them, his touch feather-light, teasing.
“Colton—”
