“Fuck,” he curses against my mouth. “Piper?—”
Next door, something definitely breaks. Troy’s laughing, Delilah’s cursing, and we break apart, both breathing hard.
“We should—” I start.
“Yeah,” he agrees, but neither of us moves.
We’re still so close I can feel his breath on my lips. His hand is still on my waist, thumb stroking small circles that are definitely going to drive me insane.
“This doesn’t have to be anything,” he says carefully. “We can blame the wine. The party. Whatever you need.”
“What if I don’t want to blame anything?” The question surprises us both. “What if I just want...”
“What do you want?”
You, I think. To know what your hands feel like on my skin. To remember what it’s like to be desired. To stop waiting for someone who never wanted me and start exploring what it feels like to be wanted by someone who does.
But that’s too much, too fast, too real.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “Is that okay?”
“That’s perfect,” he says, and I believe him.
We settle back against the wall, closer than before. His arm around me feels less casual now, more intentional. My whole body hums with awareness—of him, of possibilities, ofthe way he’s looking at me like I’m something precious and dangerous all at once.
Next door, things have gone quiet. The party below has faded to distant murmurs.
“Can I stay?” I ask. “Just to sleep. I just... I don’t want to go home yet.”
“Stay,” he says immediately. “As long as you want.”
So I do, curled against his side, pretending to watch videos while my mind replays that kiss. The way he said my name. The promise in his touch.
I came here tonight to make Miles jealous.
But lying next to Ethan, feeling his heartbeat under my palm, I’m starting to think maybe I came here for something else entirely.
21
ETHAN
Iwake to darkness and the sweet torture of Piper pressed against me. She’s been shifting restlessly for the last ten minutes, each movement sending shockwaves through my already compromised self-control. Her back moulds to my chest, my arm draped over her waist, and every time she moves, her body brushes against mine in ways that are definitely not helping my situation.
I’m desperately cycling through unsexy thoughts. Freddie’s protein shake disasters. That statistics exam I bombed sophomore year. The time Troy tried to impress Delilah with parkour and ended up in the ER. But my body doesn’t give a shit about my noble intentions.
She wiggles again, pressing back as she adjusts, and my cock responds with enthusiasm.
“Pip,” I groan into her hair, which smells like vanilla and trouble. “You gotta stop moving.”
“Sorry,” she whispers. “Your bed is weird. There’s like, a crater in the middle.”
“My bed is perfectly broken in,” I argue, but then sheshifts again, her entire body rolling against mine, and I can’t suppress the sound that escapes.
She freezes. I can practically hear her processing, putting together the equation of my reaction plus what’s currently pressed against her.
“Oh.” Her voice is small. “Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize?—”
“It’s fine,” I lie through gritted teeth. I’m so hard it hurts, pressed against the curve of her ass, and she’s apologizing like she committed a crime. “Just... give me a minute.”
