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Kit: Put on panties.
Piper: I make no promises.
I shift my weight between my legs. I've only been at Kit's place once, and it was because he didn't have a choice.
This is different.
He practically invited me here.
I take a deep breath and knock on the door.
From inside, he says, "it's open."
I shouldn't be dizzy, but my head is spinning. After another deep breath, I turn the knob and step inside.
Kit is upstairs, standing in the frame of his bedroom door, clad in only jeans. His back is defined. His shoulders are strong. And he has this black tattoo running down his side. Words. I can't read them from here, but I want to. I want to run my fingers over his skin until I feel the ridges from the ink.
What does it say?
What does it mean to him?
He steps inside his bedroom and pulls a t-shirt on. Then he's back in the hallway, his dark curly hair falling to his shoulders, his dark eyes fixed on me.
"I thought you were dressed," I tease.
"Took a shower." He runs a hand through his wet hair to prove it.
I want my hand in that hair. I want his hand on me. Fuck, I want him so badly I'm dizzy.
"You look like shit." His smile spreads over his cheeks as he moves closer. "I'm glad."
"Do I really?" So much for my makeup counteracting my dark circles.
"You want me to say you're pretty?"
"If that's what you think."
He gives me a long, slow once over. "You're a pretty girl." His dark eyes fix on mine. "A pretty girl who looks like shit." He half-smiles. "That's the best you're going to get."
"I'll take it." I'd prefer you taking me, but I realize it's not the best moment for it.
He moves closer. Close enough to touch me, hug me, kiss me.
He does none of those things.
He simply exists near me.
My body is buzzing. It wants his hands, his lips, his cock. I've never thought about another guy in those terms. I had boyfriends in high school, made out, but I was always too afraid of sex to actually consider it.
When I think about Kit... I want all of it. It feels new and exciting, not terrifying.
His eyes stay glued to mine, studying mine. His lips part but he doesn't speak.
I know enough about sex to read his body language. He's turned towards me. His shoulders are strong, proud. His hands are at his sides. It's like he's making a point of gluing them to his sides.
Like he's reminding himself not to touch me.
I rise to my tip toes to pull him into a hug. A hello, nice to see you, my friend hug.
