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The covers rustle, and when they pool around my waist, I lift my arm to see Atlas has sat up. He’s in an equal state of undress, and those eyes are boring down at the tats covering my chest.
He splays his hand over my pecs, tracing petals and vines with his fingertips. My breath is trapped in my chest, muscles locked tight at each electric press of skin on skin.
“Can I look at you?” He whispers as his hand travels lower, as it follows every line of ink until he reaches the edge of the blanket.
My words are still being held hostage by his touch, pushed further down by the smile on his full, pink lips as he brushes the mask of hair away from my face.
“I’m going to kiss you,” he says, but he pauses a beat as if to give me a chance to say no or show any indication that I don’t want it to happen.
I do.
My lips part, and he takes that as his invitation. It’s the lightest press of his lips to mine, of his hot morning breath rushing over my face. I smile, and he presses a little harder until I yield, reminding me exactly what it was like to kiss him last night.
He’s skimming my chest, pressing into the indents beneath my ribs, and for someone who had me take the lead in our chats, Atlas’ movements feel confident.
Fuck, what would Shiloh think?
I turn my head and break the kiss just as I remember my little brother. The one who I have to take to an appointment in who knows how long and whose best friend I’m currently lying in bed naked with.
“Can’t,” I say, seeing my own disappointment reflected in Atlas’ eyes. “We can’t.”
He bites down on his lip, gnaws it between his teeth and points his eyes at the ceiling.
“What part can’t we do?” he asks, fingers resuming their exploration of my exposed body. “Kissing? Letting me watch you jerk off?”
I choke on a laugh at the statement and because the drag of his touch over my sides tickles.
“Definitely that last one.”
His eyes find mine, and I can’t tell what he’s searching for but he must be swimming through rapids to find it by the trouble swirling in them.
He wets his lips and rolls to his back, leaving my skin cold.
“Are you disappointed?”
I whip my head around so fast I’ll be feeling the ache in my neck for days.
“What are you talking about?”
“Me being A. Last night it felt like… like you felt the connection too. The pull. But this morning…”
“Atlas.” I flip to my side and plant my hand on his bicep. “It’s early. I’m hungover. Yesterday was a lot. I don’t want to jump into anything you’ll regret.”
He sighs and drags his hand over mine, pushing his fingers into the divots between my own.
“You said you never wanted to regret me. Well, Blair Novak, I couldn’t possibly regret you.”
I sigh into the arm folded behind my head. Would it be the end of the world to let Atlas experiment? With his feelings? With a man? With me?
“What do you want, A?”
When he turns to face me this time, he cradles our joined hands to his chest and dips his head so his eyes have a straight path to mine.
“I want to continue our thought experiment. I want to give you the emotional support you need and you could… help me understand what’s going on with my body?”
It’s a dangerous line, one that would make crossing it a mess of uncertainties.
“You want to pretend to be my boyfriend?” I ask, and his sweet smile turns playful.
