Asking for a friend.
I wakeup being poked in the back by Elliott’s massive erection.
We’re not talking regular morning wood. This thing is a two-by-four.
Since he is still very much asleep, I’m not sure exactly how to navigate this precarious situation. If we’d had sex last night, I’d let my itchy hands grab it. But since we snuggled and fell asleep in each other’s arms, we’re caught in a gray area.
And touching it without consent even though it is very much touching me feels wrong.
He stretches his arms over his head with a groan. “The longer you look at my dick, the harder it’s going to get.”
Guess he’s not asleep after all.
Harder? How is that possible? That thing belongs with the other standing stones at Stonehenge. “Sorry.”
A smirk. “No, you’re not.”
“No, I’m not. I mean, it’s there. It’s impossible not to look at.”
“You keep giving me compliments like that, and I’ll never let you leave.”
It’s not a compliment. It’s a statement of fact. “So…this is awkward.” Wonderful. Looks like I’m back to blurting, something I can’t remember ever doing with Elliott.
“Doesn’t have to be.”
“How do you figure?”
He reaches down to adjust himself, which shouldn’t be hot but totally is. At some point in the night, he kicked off his jeans, leaving him in a pair of black boxer briefs.
Loren approves.
“Strip out of those things you claim are shorts and I’ll show you.”
“That’s a bad idea.” At least that’s what I tell myself. Because the list of reasons to avoid Elliott got a whole lot shorter last night.
Elliott Grant is absolutely the commitment type.
Not saying he’s looking for a relationship with me, but at least it’s not outside the realm of possibility like I originally thought. And he was respectful of my choice not to have sex with him. Didn’t even try to push.
He showed me a side of himself even more irresistible than all the others: His insecurities.
“I disagree. As a matter of fact, I think it’s the best damn idea I’ve had in a long time.”
“So what? We have sex, get it out of our system, and then go about our lives as if nothing happened?”
His eyes narrow and his lips press flat. “Sure. If that’s what you want to do.”
“Really? Because you sound mad.”
His biceps flex when he drags his hands down his face. Who knew frustration could be so sexy? “Yeah, well, being referred toas something to ‘get out of your system’ doesn’t make me feel very appreciated.”
After his girlfriend broke up with him because she thought other guys might be better, Elliott needs to be appreciated.
He showed his hand last night; it’s only fair that I do the same today. I swallow past the sudden lump in my throat, bracing for the truth. “I don’t know how to do this.”
The way he scratches his chest draws my eyes to the trimmed hair covering his glorious pecs. “Do what?”
“Go from friends to whatever this is. If we hook up, does it mean we’re dating?” At least he doesn’t flinch when I ask. How mortifying would that be? “Are we just hanging out and hooking up? Friends with benefits and whatnot?” Who says whatnot? Me, apparently. “I’m just trying to figure out the rules before?—”
