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When I finally collapsed back to the bed, not one bone remained in my body. They had all dissolved into liquid. Not one cell remained in my brain. Not one damn care was left that it was a man, my friend, who just gave me the best head, the most intense orgasm, I ever had in my entire life.
One sole thought flitted through my muddled, tired brain…
I might not care now, but that wasn’t going to last. Not when the fantasy was steamrolled by reality. Not when I finally allowed myself to recognize the fact that Ronan was a man and I’d been intimate with him.
With my head on the pillow, I continued to stare up at the small crack in my ceiling.
I concentrated on that while I waited for my thoughts and my sanity to return.
I didn’t look at Ronan when he released me from his mouth. When he loosened his grip and finally let go.
When he rolled from between my legs.
When he sat up on the bed next to me and, from the corner of my eye, I watched him wipe a hand across his mouth.
He was waiting.
For me to say something?
For me to react because I was disgusted? Ashamed? Embarrassed?
For me to freak out because my closest friend just sucked me off? Or because of Dahlia finding out? Or anyone finding out?
Was he as worried as I was about ruining our friendship? Ruining my relationship with Dahlia?
Or me getting angry with him? Hell, with myself?
Or all of it?
I struggled to swallow the lump lodged in my throat as the blood slowly receded from my erection.
Nothing but our breathing filled my room as the bed shifted and he climbed off the mattress.
I thought he might address what just happened between us, but instead he said, “Do you have underwear I can borrow? I need to clean up and…”
I could only imagine the mess in his boxer briefs. To put his jeans back on and walk back to campus like that would be miserable.
Without looking at him, I answered, “Dresser. Top drawer.”
I listened to him move around my room. Gathering his clothes, grabbing a pair of clean underwear from my drawer, then shutting himself in the bathroom.
The water ran. The toilet flushed.
While he was in there, I forced myself to sit up.
I needed to get up. I couldn’t spend the day in bed, even though I was spent. Emotionally and physically.
I needed to function like it was any other day, as much as I didn’t want to.
I only got as far as sitting on the edge of my mattress, before I dropped my head into my hands and dug my elbows painfully into my thighs to support it. My head felt heavy and it throbbed. Possibly still from my hangover, more likely from what we just did.
And the fact that I liked it.
I really fucking liked it.
None of it made sense.
As soon as the bathroom door reopened, a soft “Tate” reached my ears.
I shook my head slightly. I couldn’t look at him. Not yet.
I didn’t want to hurt him with my reaction. It had nothing to do with him and everything to do with me.
This went way beyond kissing.
This morning couldn’t be chalked up to a drunken mistake because I was now sober. I had no damn excuse other than just like the kiss last night, I wanted it to happen.
Bottom line, I didn’t want what we did to ruin our friendship. Ronan meant too much to me to lose him over being self-indulgent.
Maybe that right there was the answer I needed. But, where did we go from here?
It was best if we simply forgot about the whole thing. Moved forward like it never happened.
Yes, that was a good plan. The only plan.
“We’re never talking about this again.” My voice was scratchy and raw. And though I did my best to hide it, it contained a slight shake.
For what had to be at least two minutes, I didn’t get a response.
But I could feel his eyes on me. Searching. Wondering. Maybe even hoping our friendship wasn’t ruined, too.
“Yeah, okay.” Those two simple words were heavily coated in disappointment.
After a few more seconds, I finally heard his footsteps heading toward the door. Again, another hesitation, but I still could not make myself look at him.
“I’ll let myself out.”
I opened my mouth to stop him, but all my words disintegrated before they were formed.
When the door closed behind him, the soft click might as well have been a slam.
CHAPTER 8
Ronan (Now)
I’d grown up with a financial disadvantage.
I never would’ve gone to college if it wasn’t for earning scholarships, grants and a lot of hard work.
My father worked his ass off to provide for his family, to put food on the table and a roof over our heads. Especially as an immigrant from South Korea. He came to the States for a better life and went after it with gusto to provide for me and my brother.
