Ellie: Well maybe if we taught boys that it’s okay, we’d have less toxic masculinity
Me: You got me there, Ace…
Purposely, I kept my shirt off. If Ellie was going to show up at my place last minute again, the least I could do was fulfill a few fantasies.
Leaning against the counter, one ankle crossed over the other, I held my T-shirt loosely in my hand and checked the time. According to her last text, she should be here any minute.
I shifted my stance, subtly tightening my abs and glancing down to make sure everything was flexed just right—biceps, chest, all of it.
Ellie didn’t knock anymore. She didn’t hesitate. She walked in like she owned the place.
Fresh out of the shower? She’d come over and park herself on the bathroom counter, legs swinging and eyes glued to my naked body—especially my cock—until I got dressed, and only then would she bother looking anywhere else, usually with a wink.
Half asleep on the couch after a long day? She’d barge in and throw herself across me like a weighted blanket and sigh like she’d finally found peace.
Once, I came home to find she’d beaten me here. That was my favorite. It felt like coming home to her, like this thing we had was becoming something more, even if neither of us had the balls to say it.
We’d fallen into a deep pattern. Spending time together was typical, yet how we spent our time changed drastically.
If I were being honest, I loved it. Every damn second of it. I loved how she couldn’t keep her hands—or eyes—off me. But truth be told, the feeling was mutual. Having her like this was a beautiful problem, because we didn’t get much done when we were in the same room.
Just as I tugged my jeans a little lower, revealing the cut of my lower abs, the door flew open.
Ellie stepped in like a summer storm—fast, hot, and impossible to ignore.
Her gaze hit me instantly, raking from the brim of my cowboy hat to my bare chest, down my torso to the boots onmy feet. She dropped her purse by the door and didn’t bother closing it as she stalked toward me.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” she purred, a wicked smile curling her lips.
She didn’t stop until her finger was on my skin, running slowly down the center of my chest, between the ridges of my abs, to the top of my jeans.
“What if…” she murmured, her voice pure sin, “you went out for ice cream like this and I got to lick it off you instead?”
I tipped my head back with a groan at the image alone.
“I’d start right here,” she whispered, dragging her finger back up my torso and then trailing it down again, slower this time.
“El…” I warned, voice thick with desire. “We’re not gonna make it anywhere at this rate.”
She leaned in, all heat and temptation, and pressed soft kisses against my bare chest. Her tongue flicked out to taste my skin, and a quiet, needy moan escaped my lips as my cock stirred, tightening behind the zipper of my jeans.
She had me. Completely.
Then, just as quickly, Ellie snatched the T-shirt from my hands and stepped back, her body leaving a trail of heat in her wake.
“Let’s go, buttercup,” she teased over her shoulder, already halfway to the door. “Ice cream won’t eat itself.”
“You’re going to be in so much trouble,” I muttered under my breath.
Ellie smirked. “You can show me later.”
And with that, I stepped out the door, shirtless in the unforgiving Texas summer heat. I climbed into the cab of her truck, the leather seats already hot from the sun, and off we went.
“Thanks for givingthis back,” I said as we pulled into the ice cream shop’s small lot, reaching for my shirt.
“It’s a damn shame no one else got the show,” Ellie teased, a mischievous glint in her eye.
“Half the town already saw more than they bargained for when Penny roped me into that fundraiser for the library. We don’t need a repeat. I’m still having flashbacks to old ladies slipping dollar bills into my waistband.”
