He’s being serious, and I hold myself back from leaning closer, but my vision stays fixed on him.
Those serious eyes return to me, and they’re strained. “Please. It’s not funny. You’re torturing me, and I need you to stop.”
I sober up all the way. He deserves to know where I’m at, in case he’s maybe, hopefully, okay with me doing a full one-eighty—from pushing him away to taking that back in the space of two days.
But his lips are pursed, and his expression is tense. If I want a chance to stay friends with him, which has to comebeforethe possibility of going further, I’ll have to be careful.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
DEAN
I’m sitting still, but my heart’s racing like I played two grueling halves of basketball and some overtime on top. The silence is heavy, punctuated only by our heavy breathing.
And the whole time, Nick’s fixing his wide eyes on me. Those wide, disastrously pretty,irresistibleeyes. As much as I want to tear my gaze away, I can’t.
He blinks, snapping us both out of whatever this is, and finally removes his hands from my waist. Not that I was physically trapped, but the feeling of his touch was all but locking me in place. His incessant flirting was keeping my feelings locked, too.
Staying friends with him at all, when something like this gets me all knotted up, is looking less and less realistic by the second.
A sigh returns my attention to Nick, who’s dragging a hand down his face. Those full, pink lips part, and I fight the instinct to launch myself at them.
“I don’t… I think…” He pauses to cuss under his breath. “I’m not trying to be funny.”
Then why the hell were you feeling me up?He already established he’s not into me.
I tilt my head, prompting him to continue.
He does. “You’re turning me on. Like, big time. I don’t know why, but I’m not joking.”
My pulse stops screaming in my ears. My first thought is that he’s still making cruel jokes at my expense, but somehow, I find it in me to ask, “Are you for real?”
Nick nods, and it’s solemn. “Totally. I… I think I want to have sex with you.”
Likewise.
But what changed? It’s been under a day since hedirectlytold me hecan’tbe into me that way. And now he says he wants to have sex.
Well, hethinkshe does.
I let out a scoff. “Youthinkyou want to have sex with me? Wow, I feel so valued.”
That gets a laugh out of him, and the noise floods my chest with warmth. “Shoot, sorry. I’m not used to explaining myself like this.”
“And you don’t have to.” I shuffle back and knock over a bottle on the floor with my foot, which brings me back to reality.
While my annoying dick is begging me to strip this man down and learn what his moans sound like, that’s not the move. My best guess is he’s vulnerable.
“Why don’t we, uh, de-escalate?” I suggest instead.
He shuffles backward and leans on the other arm of the couch, freezing when it makes a snapping noise.
“You’re fine. It does that.” I wave him off, even though the couch is definitely on its last legs.
“For sure,” he says. “I don’t know—I've only tried stuff with my ex and then random guys from apps, so I don't have much to go off of. If I had to label myself, maybe demisexual would fit, but I’m not a hundred percent.”
While I can’t relate, I know what he’s talking about. That makes a lot of sense, given how he seems to have started feeling…more toward me after we shot the shit last night.
I purse my lips, leaning forward. “And you don’t have to be. Just take it slow.”
