Page 38 of The Lipstick Flip

“I don’t know. I guess being in the hospital. It brought up some stuff.”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe I should have been having traumatic flashbacks to getting shot.” It was supposed to be a joke, but it came out flat.

Noah didn’t say anything.

And since I had all the social skills of a kid still learning how to spank it, I said, “How are you?”

Noah paused in the act of dabbing serum around his eyes. And then he gave me a look.

I laughed again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Noah asked. He picked up the phone and carried it into the next room. His bedroom. He set the phone on something—his dresser, I guessed—and stepped away.

And that was when I saw his underwear.

It was blue.

It was tiny.

It had lace, which maybe—if we were being technical—made them panties. When he turned in profile, the curve of his dick was a shadow behind the sheer blue fabric.

“What the fuck are those?”

I didn’t know I was going to say anything until the words were already out, and then my face was hot. Noah stood at his closet now, looking for something. He had a great ass: big, tight, smooth. A classic bubble butt. And the panties put it on display in a way that even the leggings hadn’t.

He glanced over at the phone and smirked. “Do you like them?”

What was I supposed to say to that? They looked fantastic? I wanted to tear them off him? Nothing would probably be the right choice. No, the right thing to do would be to have ended this call about sixty seconds ago.

“They’re alright,” I said. And then, “They look good on you.”

He touched the lacy blue fabric above the sharp ridge of his hip, as though seeing it now for the first time. And then he smiled at me. “Thanks.”

So, now was definitely the right time to end this call. Now was the time to mutter something about having to get up early the next day, about having a lot of work to do, about literally anything, so I could get the fuck off.

Oh God.

Not what I meant, but as soon as the thought ran through my head, I knew exactly what I was going to do as soon as this call ended.

“Do you know what I was thinking about?” Noah asked. His attention was back on the closet, and he stood in profile again. The slender lines of his body were all there for me to see. Like I could reach out and touch him. Almost. “Earlier today, I mean.” He turned himself out of his tank, and I could see his ribs, the pink of one nipple, a hint of his collarbone. “Howie?”

I coughed.

Oh my fucking God, I coughed.

He glanced over at the camera. He wasn’t smiling now, but he didn’t look concerned either. Those electric blue eyes looked darker. Maybe it was a trick of the camera. Maybe it was because his pupils seemed so much bigger right then.

“Watching you pick up the tree,” Noah said. “How strong you are. Do you know what I was thinking about?”

The way he stood made it impossible not to see his dick silhouetted against the thin silk. Was it my imagination, or was he sporting a semi?

One of us certainly was.

He was waiting for an answer, and my brain told me to start talking. Please, God, don’t let me cough again. Somehow I managed a scratchy, “No.”

“I was thinking about Bali. Do you remember?”