Making him squirm is so damn fun, and I can’t fucking wait.
CHAPTER TWENTY
DEAN
Yeah, we’re just friends.
Who am I kidding?
Whoon eartham I kidding when Nick is wrapped around me like some kind of panda or drunk koala, sleeping in my childhood bed and sighing into my fucking neck, while I lie back and let my fanciful heart run wild?
This is why I barred myself from any repeats. That rule sure flew out the window, and now I’m paying the price by falling for the most irresistible guy I’ve ever met.
In a fading act of self-preservation, I try to wriggle away, but all Nick does is half wake up, mumble some kind of complaint, and thengrab me tighter.
Hookups don’t do this. Friends don’t do thisoften.For the past week, this has been nothing short of a ritual—we’ve mostly gotten over jet lag, and we’re waking up at a reasonable-ish hour now, but one of us is always in the other’s arms. And as soon as we hear my parents leave for work, things heat up. It’s just like Thanksgiving break all over again. We survived, and holy hell, that was a damn hornfest, which is probablyhowwe survived.
With a groan, I break free from Nick’s warm, vise-like grip and slide out of bed, changing out of my sleep shorts into underwear and sweats, before putting a hoodie on and slipping out of the room. I triple-check the door and make sure it’s latched shut, in case it swings open and reveals my not-exactly-friend sprawled shirtless across my bed.
“Hey, kid,” Dad says when I tiptoe into the living room. “Just you this morning?”
He’s strolling around, going between his breakfast oats at the dining table and the TV that’s tuned to the Economic News channel.
“Yeah, Nick’s still asleep.”
“I’ll bet. He really can’t be comfortable on the old air mattress.”
We wouldn’t know.
I simply shrug, trying not to give anything away. Having Nick here has been interesting, to say the least, but he’s gotten along perfectly well with my parents, who seem to have taken a liking to the well-behaved side of him.
They’re probably just excited that I have friends—I haven’t been the best at telling them about what’s going on, and when most of my friends graduated before me, sharing details about my sparse social life would have just made them feel sorry for me.
“What have you two been up to, anyway?” Dad continues. “It’s unfortunate Mom and I can’t step away from the business while you’re here.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Christmas isn’t a thing here, and their shipping business doesn’t stop for anything. “Mostly just…”Making each other come our brains out while I try not to fall harder for him.“Relaxing and taking time off school.”
“No touristy things?” Dad raises an eyebrow. “He can’t come to Hangzhou without any sightseeing.”
“We’ll get around to it,” I say. “He mostly came here because he wanted to spend time with me.”
Fuck. This is why I shouldn’t talk about anything remotely emotional before I’ve had coffee. I hold my breath when Dad keeps his eyebrow raised, and I search for the right thing to say.
“His original family is complicated,” I explain. “And he didn’t want to spend Christmas alone, so he goes everywhere with me.” Even to the police station to renew my ID card, apparently, and he said it wasfun.
“Makes sense.” It’s still clear from Dad’s expression that he’s a little confused. “Anyway, I have to get going, but I think I cancome back early today. Us three can do some tourist things if you have the energy.”
“That would be great. Thanks.” I offer a smile, because I really am grateful. My parents have hectic freaking schedules, and while that gave me an early primer to being independent, it’s also minimizing the chances of them catching on to me and Nick.
When Dad leaves, I’m left alone, and even when we’re in different rooms, Nick’s presence is everywhere, from the knowledge he’s on the other side of the wall, or—Jesus Christ—his smell lingering on my clothes and skin from when we’re constantly cuddled up in bed together. Hopefully, it’s generically masculine enough for it not to be a dead giveaway that we get closer than two friends should.
The worst thing is, I think I’m low-key addicted, and I’d probably relapse if I tried to get any distance from Nick. Even lying on the couch alone makes my core ache, and I fight the urge to get on my feet and return to the bedroom.
The sex is amazing, and it’s because it’s with him specifically. If I get all analytical, the sensations themselves are better for sure, but not outrageously so. It’s the little intimate things themselves that make the experience so much better.
I’ve gotten really fucking good blowjobs before, but Nick kicks it up to eleven and snatches my damn soul out by giving me those ruinous, adoring eyes.
I’ve given head before, but not to someone who’s so damn vocal about what it does to him, while caressing my head and telling me I’m amazing.
