“Me and Lark. We haven’t…” Shit, this is harder than I thought. I swallow. “We, ah, we haven’t gone all the way yet.”
“What is this, high school? You haven’t fucked. Is that what you mean?”
I frown, even as I nod. “Yeah. Fine. We haven’t…done that.”
“Jesus, Monty, I know you’re a grown-ass man who can use the word fuck.”
Maybe I was wrong and telling Yami was a mistake. I’m sure as shit not telling him the whole story now. I clench my jaw, staring forward.
“I think it’s cool. You care about each other, and you’re treating her the way a woman should be treated.”
My head turns to stare at him, but he’s not done surprising me.
“Casual sex is fine, but when there’s feelings involved, waiting till it’s right is a good idea. That’s all I’m saying. So is tonight the night?”
I nod again. He gives me one in response. “Cool. Let’s get going then, so you can manscape.”
That makes me snort, then my eyes widen.Manscape?
Three hours and two disturbing articles from the internet later, I’m in the world’s most awkward position in my bathroom, one leg up on the counter as I peer down at my junk. Thank fuck, I’m flexible. When the hell did manscaping become a thing? I mean, I’ve always kept it trimmed; no one needs a bush hiding their dick. But this is next-level.
I’m rereading part of the article that talks about waxing your goddamn ass cheeks,no thanks,when there’s a knock at my door.
“Shit.”
How the hell is it eight already? In my surprise, I lose my balance, which is embarrassing for a top-tier catcher. What’s even worse is the horrifying realization that I didn’t lock the front door, apparent when I hear Lark’s voice call out from the front.
“Dan? Are you here?”
I stumble, knocking my hip into the towel rail, hard enough to leave a bruise. “God-fucking-damn it.”
I can hear her footsteps, and here I am naked from the waist down with my very limp dick only half-scaped. Is that the term? Who fucking knows. All I know is this is not exactly how I wanted tonight to start.
“Hang on,” I holler back, hoping she’ll wait for me in theliving room.
No such luck.
“Shoot, I’m sorry!”
I straighten up from grabbing my underwear off the bathroom floor and catch her staring at me in the mirror, her cheeks flaming red.
“Hey, Birdie.” I laugh nervously, clutching my boxers in front of myself. Her eyes slowly drag down my body, only to freeze and then widen.
“Dan, when did you get a tattoo?” she whispers, and I frown in confusion for a second before understanding dawns on me. Ah, crap. I guess I forgot she’s never seen it. Somehow, the other night when she gave me the blow job that made my world stand still, she didn’t notice it. I panic, not sure how to answer. Is she happy about it? Does she know what it means?
“Um, I dunno.” Lame, Monty. Real lame.
She looks back up at me and steps in closer, her fingers coming to my hip, resting right over the small tattoo. “Dan. What kind of bird is this?”
Ohshitohshitohshitohshit.
My brain is no longer functioning. I can’t possibly think clearly when she’s this close to me and I’m half naked with my cock waking up to her proximity.
“Uhhh…”
Her pink tongue darts out and moistens her lips as her gaze drops down again, then back up to my face. Well, fuck. Here we go.
“It’s a skylark.” My whisper is hoarse, but her mouth slowly turns upward. “I got it two years ago.”
