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I snort. “You kind of still are, big guy.”
“Fuck, sorry.” His hands move away from all my lady parts, but not far. I’m almost sad I said anything. “You’re warm.”
“So are you,” I say, snuggling deeper under the blanket. “Is it weird yet?”
“Not the word I’d use.”
“What word would be better?”
“Perfect,” he says, then falls back to sleep.
I wake up some time later and once again Zander has his hand on my chest. Snoring softly in my ear. Again, I’m cradled against a giant boner. Except now, after a little more sleep, my body is ready to react to it.
Which is bad. Even if he was sleep-flirting with me earlier, it’s bad. Because Zander is gay and I’m pretty sure Damian is his boyfriend. I like Damian, a lot. And I adore Zander. I don’t want to be someone who gets in between them.
Well, not in that way. If things were different, I’d happily be… something in the middle.
I need to get out of here.
Deciding this time easing off the sofa isn’t the best idea, I jump up. Zander makes a noise of protest, but I ignore it, shoving my feet into my slippers and digging in the cushions for my cellphone.
“Willa?”
Damn it, why does he sound even sexier when he’s sleepy?
“Gotta go,” I blurt. Finding my phone, I use it to wave at him. “See you later. Uh, thanks, bye!”
I rush out his door and make my way straight to the stairwell, not stopping until I’m at my own door. Kit is already awake. She’s making herself breakfast and coffee when I enter. She’s a morning person, perky and ready for the day as soon as her eyes pop open. I, on the other hand, require caffeine before my brain can even contemplate conversation.
Zander’s hard dick must have served like a shot straight to my bloodline though, because I’m surprisingly alert.
“Hey there,” she says with a sly smile, her dark curls falling over one eye. “You look like a hot mess. Do tell?”
“I slept with Zander.”
“Fuck off, you did not.”
“I did,” I argue. “In the actual REM kind of way, not in the sexy times way. But he was feeling me up when we woke up. With a huge hard-on. What the fuck is that about, Kit?”
“Morning wood?”
“Sure, but that doesn’t explain his hand working my boob.”
“He was asleep, plus boobs are soft and comforting. I’m not sure it has to be something to freak out about.”
“Then why am I freaking out?”
“Because you’ve had a crush on the guy for five years. Isn’t it established that he’s gay?”
“Not with direct words,” I say, running through everything I know about him. Each conversation. He never said, I just assumed.
“You think he’s bi or pan?” Kit’s eyebrows perk in interest.
“I don’t know. But what if?”
What if?
7
