Her bare nipples will be brushing against the fabric.
Fabric that’s touched my body too.
She—
My eyes dip to the floor, and I spot her pink thong—a wet wad on the carpet next to her bra.
Yep. She’s naked.
She’s naked under my big hoodie… and my body knows it.
The tent in my shorts isn’t the only indicator. My heart is now racing, my skin prickling with… is this lust or something?
Yep, it has to be.
Hot and heady and uncontrollable.
“Let me help you,” she whispers.
“Maybe you should just go,” I choke out.
She pauses for a second, but then her lips rise into a beautiful smile. “Or maybe you should let me thank you properly. You saved my life.”
“Not really.” I shake my head. “I just did what anyone would have done.”
“No.” She moves into my space. “You didn’t. You’re a hero.”
“I’m not really…” My words die off when she starts tugging at my wet shirt, pulling it up my body.
I automatically help her because… I don’t even know why, but the wet fabric is soon hitting the floor, and my skin is bubbling with goose bumps again.
She brushes her fingertips over my bumpy flesh before yanking on the towel protecting my dignity.
My fingers automatically grip it, but she’s pretty damn determined, and after a sharp “Let go” from her, I’m releasing the fabric.
Snapping my eyes shut, I can’t watch her face as she no doubt checks out my humiliating erection.
The only person to ever touch that thing is me.
Yes, I’ve succumbed to temptation and touched myself before.
I know what an orgasm feels like, okay?
I’ve imagined scenarios like this. I’ve just never had the courage to actually experience them for real.
And now it’s happening, and I’m not sure I can stop it.
When I hear the zipper of my shorts slide down, I swear I nearly pass out.
It makes me feel like a teenage kid again. A clueless, pimply boy who doesn’t know what he’s doing.
That’s kind of accurate.
I really don’t know what I’m doing and?—
She tugs my shorts and underwear down.
Oh no.
