“Is that so?” I scoff, poking his exposed stomach. “Aww, it sounds like the campus fuckboy’s no-sleepover policy has turned him into a selfish asshole.”
“I’m not a fuckboy,” he complains. “Just a boy who fucks.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” I say. “It’s just funny when I call you one.” Smiling, I ruffle his…knee?
Why did I ruffle hisknee?At least I know how soft his leg hair is now, and—why on earth do I care?Still?And why do I want to plunge my fingers back in there?
Dean drags himself upright and faces me, his eyelids still heavy with sleep. “Anyway, I’m sorry for the rough night. How can I make it up to you?”
My mind immediately flies to its go-to “suck my dick, bro,” but I stop myself to avoid giving any more mixed signals.
Fuck, now I’m spacing out and imagining how he’d look sucking my dick. And how it’d feel. Probably way better than the last time someone did, because I’m sure he wouldn’t say some shit likecome on, man, what kind of a fucking pussy says no to a blowjob?—
“Do you have breakfast?” I ask instead.
“Yeah, right here.” He chuckles and points to his crotch, prompting me to smack his chest, and he gets up, still laughing. “I have eggs and shit. I won’t be long.”
The fact thathe'sstill making lewd jokes is relieving, but whatisn’tis how it’s like his pec left an imprint on the front of my hand, even though I’m the one who gave him a smack.
Huh. If Dean expects me to wait for him alone, he’s sorely mistaken. I follow him out into the kitchen to find him taking eggs out of the fridge.
“I was thinking more, like, cereal or something,” I say, feeling embarrassed. “You don’t have to cook for me.”
He waves me off. “Are you kidding? One, I don’t have cereal since my lazy ass forgot to buy any, and two, you stayed over. I’m cooking you breakfast.”
Turning away, his wide back makes a reappearance, and he doesn’t see the confused expression spreading across my face as I sink onto the couch.
Dean’s the first guy to make me any kind of breakfast, not counting Ian, who does that foreveryone. I made awkward exits from my hookups’ places before they got a chance to even offer, and then in my freshman year, Josh and I had dining plans.
So yeah, my friendly, totally non-sexual sleepover with Dean is resulting in him being the first person to go to the effort of putting bread in a toaster and?—
Holy shit, he’sscramblingthe eggs, too? Not just tossing them in a pan?
And he’s doing all this for my sorry ass after I rejected him?
My standards must either be shot or simply neglected, because those simple actions make my heart go all mushy.
Damn it, he’s sonice,and he isn’t even trying, and…and holy hell, he’sso fucking hot.
I realize in the nick of time that I’m ogling Dean's entire backside, and I’m barely able to cover my growing erection with a couch cushion before he turns around.
I avert my eyes to the relative safety of his sleep-mussed black hair. The back half of it is sticking up. The front half is falling in front of his forehead and making my heart race.
“Hey, I gotta take a leak,” he says. “Make sure the toast doesn’t burn?”
“Yeah, sure.” I stay seated, keeping the pillow over my crotch. “You know what? Let me handle breakfast.”
His eyebrows rise in time with the appreciative smile materializing on his lips. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.” At that, he walks those sexy legs into the bathroom, and the privacy gives me space to bury my face in my hands and let out a silent groan.
Aftereverythingthat went down last night, where I probably bruised his ego by going on and on about how I couldn’t be attracted to him,nowis when said attraction decides to show up? When Dean has gracefully shut down any prospects of making good on that by rewinding the clock to before?
The sound of the sink running makes my head perk up, and I focus my attention on the stove. Dean cracked the eggs into a bowl but didn’t get around to scrambling them, and when I peek at the burner, it’s way too high for a scramble to work properly.
Instead, I pour the unbeaten eggs into the skillet and fry them, cutting them apart with the spatula and plating them with some toast as Dean comes back.
“Yo, those look amazing,” he says.
I shrug. “Eh. I know my way around a stove.”
