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I lean forward until my chest is above hers. She’s breathing hard, and I am, too.
“I’m not going to kiss you,” I tell her, but it’s more for myself. My self-restraint is hanging on by a thread.
“Okay.”
“I’m just going to touch. Only for a second. I’m a friend helping out a friend with an important life decision, should they choose to do it.”
“Exactly. A second doesn’t count, especially when it’s from a friend,” she agrees. “And you might be the best friend I’ve ever had.”
I laugh at that. She smiles, and her grin is the confidence I need to spur me forward. I rest my hand on her skin. My fingers fan out across her ribs, and my thumb brushes along the underside of her bra. I can feel her heart racing, and the chaotic beat matches mine.
“Right here,” I say. “Right here would be sexy.”
“What should I get?”
“A heart.” I draw the outline on her skin. “Or some flowers. Hydrangeas, maybe, because they represent emotion. Gratitude. The desire to understand. That’s you, Mae.”
I take my time to draw an imaginary flower. With each petal, I get closer and closer to slipping my fingers under the lace of her bra. Her breathing turns ragged and her left leg falls off the couch to make more space for me between her thighs. I scoot forward, closer to her, and my hips almost press into her pajama shorts.
“What color?” she asks, threading her fingers through my hair, and I know she’s trying to keep me here, just like I’m trying to keep her here too.
“Blue.” Before I can stop myself, I kiss the spot I just touched and suck on her skin. She moans softly, and I’ve never heard a better sound in my life. “Pink.” I move to her nipple and blow on the flimsy piece of fabric keeping me from taking her in my mouth. “God, Maven. You’d make anything look perfect.”
I’m hard. My dick throbs, heavy and aching, and it takes every ounce of the control I’ve spent years perfecting to not touch myself while she watches.
“So much for not kissing,” she teases.
“You make it very fucking difficult to follow the rules.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“No, I’m not.” She gestures to the front of my briefs, and everything inside me burns hot and wild. “Are you going to do something about that?”
“Yeah. Die a slow death while I think about you with tattoos on your body. While I think about you in general, honestly.”
“I’ve always wanted to be someone’s muse.” Her palm moves from my hair to my cheek, and she rubs her thumb along the line of my jaw. “Am I allowed to tell you that I’m glad we found ourselves in this position? Am I allowed to tell you I’ve been thinking about you less as a friend and more as someone…” Maven trails off, and the sentence hangs in the air.
I know the words she’s not saying, because I’m thinking them, too.
Someone I care about.
Someone I want to take to my bed and hold tight through the night.
Someone I want to spoil and shower with gifts and attention.
Someone I think I might be falling for.
“Yes,” I say. I turn my cheek and press my mouth to the center of her palm. I savor the breathy exhale she lets out when I do it again. “I’m thinking it, too.”
We stare at each other, and I’m not sure how much time passes. It might only be a matter of seconds but it feels like hours. The world stands still when I’m with her, and it’s like we’re the only two people in the universe.
“I should…” I slowly climb off her and sit on the other end of the couch. I’m still hard, and it’s impossible to take my eyes off of her. “You’re so beautiful, Mae. And I don’t just mean like this.” I gesture up and down her body. “I mean all the time.”
She sits up and fixes her bra, sliding the strap back up her shoulder. “So are you. I feel lucky that I get to see these sides of you, Dallas. You’re perfect.”
“I’m far from perfect.” I pull up my sweatpants and adjust myself. “But I’m glad you’re the one I can show those imperfect parts to.”
