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Stop being an asshole and i’ll let you.

I gasped, staring down at what I’d just typed, the phone gripped so tight in my hands it was a wonder it hadn’t cracked.

I had not meant to say that.

I dropped the phone onto the mattress beside me and scrubbed my palms down my face, then folded forward, my hands hanging limply between my knees.

I wasn’t … didn’t think … I didn’t know if that was something I’d be into. Had no clue if that was something he was into, either. We’d never really talked about his preferences, but if I had to guess, he seemed like the type of guy who wanted to fuck instead of be fucked.

While I …

Shit.

I really didn’t know.

I loved it when he told me how hot I was, loved the way my dick responded when he described what he wanted to do to me, really loved begging him to let me come.

But none of that meant I wanted Cally to fuck me.

Did it?

My dick twitched, and I pressed the heel of my hand against it. Not now, I told it. We’re having a bit of an existential crisis.

I was probably getting ahead of myself.

We hadn’t even kissed, for fuck’s sake.

Not for my lack of trying.

I’d tried that first time—a spur-of-the-moment “kissing is nice when your dick is being touched” thing—but Cally’s response had made it clear that wasn’t something we were doing.

I’d been tempted to try again the second time we hooked up, just to test my theory, but had been too afraid he’d call me out on it, so I’d nuzzled into his neck instead.

He seemed to really like that.

My phone buzzed near my thigh, and I launched myself off the bed, scrambling to punch in my passcode with shaking hands.

C

802.

My shoulders dropped about three inches, my breath rushing out of me all at once.

I had no idea what I was walking into. But it didn’t seem to matter, because I was already out the door.

EIGHTEEN

MIKEY

The elevator hadn’t moved from the third floor in over two minutes, so I took the stairs up five flights. I was a little bit winded by the time I shoved through the door to Cally’s floor, pausing to catch my breath and figure out which direction to go based on a little plaque on the wall. I turned left, moving quickly down the long hallway until I pulled up outside his room at the far end.

I raised my fist to knock, only to find Cally had already cracked it open. He never left doors unlocked, let alone open. Not at home, and certainly not on the road.

I nudged it the rest of the way. “What is⁠—”

The question died in my throat.

Cally was sitting at the foot of his bed, hunched forward, elbows on his knees, his head cradled in his hands.