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“It’s in my closet, ain’t it?” he grumbled, pulling the hanger out of my hand.
“Hey,” I said, and Brian looked at me. “If you don’t want to wear it, you don’t have to. I’m not trying to change you.”
His cheeks pinkened. “If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t.” He tossed the shirt onto the bed, then turning away from me, pulled off his tee. His back was muscular, decorated by a thousand freckles that went up his neck and dotted his cheeks. I wondered what they tasted like, how salty his skin would be and what natural musk clung to his skin.
His muscles constricted when he picked up the shirt and slid his arms through. I immediately missed the view, then felt like an asshole for perving on my straight friend.
Brian turned back to me as he began buttoning it. “Feels a little tighter than last time I wore it.”
It didn’t look too tight. The fabric hugged his torso in all the right ways, especially his long, firm, sinewy arms. “Looks good to me.” His gaze snapped up, colliding with mine. “Shit. I’m sorry. I wasn’t… Okay, I was flirting and being honest, but it’s all innocent.”
“S’okay,” he replied, looking like he was biting back a grin. Hearing those things from me made Brian feel good. I wanted to give him that.
“Your collar’s messed up.” I stepped closer, Brian’s gaze not leaving mine as I reached up and straightened the fabric. He had stopped buttoning his shirt, arms down at his sides. I wasn’t sure how he would react, or if this made me an asshole, but I started buttoning his shirt, and when he didn’t complain, I assumed it was okay. Had Brian ever had anyone in his adult life who wanted to take care of him? Who did small things for him every day to show him he was cared about?
He had his nephew. Sutton was a good man and loved him, but it was different when it was someone you were related to. And there were some things that as family, Sutton just couldn’t do.
My fingers fumbled on a couple of buttons even though there was no reason for me to be nervous. I’d done shit like this a million times, and usually after fucking a guy’s brains out. But then, none of them had been Brian, had they?
I finished up, pretty sure my friend didn’t breathe the whole time. When I was done, I patted Brian on the pec and said playfully, “You’re gonna have to fight the ladies off tonight,” hoping to lighten the mood.
When I went to pull away, he raised his arm and held my wrist, pressing my hand to his chest, his thumb drawing circles against my skin. I was the one who wasn’t breathing now, heart in my throat in a completely unfamiliar way. It felt like lightning went off beneath my skin, sparking my nerve endings to sizzle, then take flight. It was such a simple touch, but entwined with that was the beat of his heart against my palm, vibrating up my arm and into my chest. I’d had men inside me and been inside them. I’d done just about everything sexual a person could imagine, but none of it made my body burn like this.
Almost as soon as it started, Brian cleared his throat, let me go, and took a step back. “We should probably head out—ya know, since you’re forcin’ me to leave and all.”
“I’m not forcing you to do anything, you big liar. I think you want to go out with me.”
“I bet you’re the kinda guy who thinks everyone wants to go out with you.”
I laughed, enjoying this, that Brian had let go a little and felt comfortable teasing me. “That how it is? You’re gonna start busting my balls now?”
“When I think ya need it.”
I smiled, feeling it in my gut too. “I see how you are. Let’s go, smart guy.” I headed out of Brian’s room, and he followed. When we got to the living room, I said, “Oh shit, wait.” Then pushed a hand through his hair, finger-combing it but also mussing it up some. It always lay flat, but I liked it messy. He looked hot when his hair looked like someone had fisted it.
“What are you doin’?” he asked but didn’t pull away. It felt like another small manner Brian was giving me his trust, and I didn’t quite know what I’d done to deserve it.
“I like to call this look ‘bedhead sexy.’” Brian shook his head like he didn’t know what to do with me, but I was pretty sure I saw a gleam in his eyes. “I’ll drive.”
“You like control, don’t you?”
“I don’t know that control is the right word. I can’t say I haven’t been told I’m pushy, which I guess sounds even worse, so yes, I like control. If you want to drive, though, you can drive.”
