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“You eat like a pigeon. You gonna finish that?” he asks, eyeing my half-eaten burger.
“Do not move in on my food,” I grumble. “I will finish it.”
He chuckles at that and then proceeds to finish off all his fries and the rest of his second burger by the time I’m done with mine.
And I may be slightly drunk now because everything seems less daunting.
I should not have had that third glass of wine. I’ve got to keep my defenses up.
“Ready for the movie?” he asks, reaching over and swiping a bit of ketchup from the corner of my mouth with his thumb and then slipping it in between his lips. He sucks it clean as I gape at him. But he doesn’t notice. He just saunters over to the couch and plops down onto it.
I walk as steadily as I can to where he’s sprawled out.
Instead of sitting far, far away like I should, I sit much too close. Our thighs brush, and our arms are pressed against each other. Luke doesn’t comment on my proximity. He just grabs the remote, leans his head against my shoulder, and presses play.
“Are you going to stay awake for the entire thing this time?” I ask, rubbing my cheek against the top of his head like some kind of animal.
“Fuck yeah, I am.”
He’s asleep thirty minutes in.
I, of course, suffer through the entire movie before shutting my eyes.
I wake a few hours later with him wrapped around me, one of my hands in his hair, the other down the back of his shirt.
Tomorrow. I will end this madness tomorrow.
CHAPTERFOUR
LUKE
I’ve spent all week with Elliot. I mean, we both go to work during the day, but I’m with him every night.
He hasn’t kicked me out yet, although he grumbles that he will. Nah, I think he’s keeping me. I told you––motherfucking glue.
Hell, if Elliot isn’t intriguing. I cannot peel my eyes away.
And the texting.
Those dirty little pictures he sends me––that aren’t actually dirty at all because he’s always fully clothed––still somehow manage to beso damn hot. I’m a little addicted to them.
I keep sending him ones of myself in various stages of undress because I like pushing his buttons, and every once in a while, he’ll cave and do something naughty. It excites me that, despite all his grumbling, he still flirts with me. He doesn’t want me to know how much he likes it.
Yesterday he sent me a picture of him sitting at his office desk, his legs spread, his fingers lingering on the buttons of his shirt, like he was ready to undress for me.
Or, the one that I shamelessly ogled for far too long, of him with those glasses on, a finger between his teeth as he bites down on it.
I haven’t brought up this little game we play because I’m afraid he’ll stop doing it. So, I just act cool when we’re together and pretend like we don’t do this shit.
But every day, I wait eagerly for those pictures. They’re so rare that I saveandfavorite the ones he sends so I can look at them later.
And I do look at them later. I look real hard.
I’m fucking confused.
I’ve only ever dated women and I never thought I’d be into a guy. But damn, if I’m not into Elliot. I thought we could just hang out as friends until I figured out what was going on with me, but my dick already knows.
My dick wants him.
