Page 100 of You Are Not Me

“Peter,” he whispered. I grasped at him until he released my cock and shoved his own boxers down and covered me again fully. Gripping my ass as he rutted against me, he moaned softly in my ear, and I thrust back up to meet him.

He pulled the blankets tight around us both, and I hauled him closer as we strove for the orgasm we both wanted.

“Yeah,” he whispered in my ear. “Fuck yes,Peter.”

I felt the pulsing wet heat of his cum and pulled my legs up, wrapping them around his hunching lower back. Dropping over into orgasm too, I couldn’t hold back a soft cry, which Daniel quickly stifled by cradling my face to his shoulder. I clasped his heaving body close, jerking and shuddering as overwhelming pleasure threaded through my balls and rocketed out of my dick in hard pulses.

I quivered in his arms as Daniel collapsed on me, kissing my neck softly. Underneath the blankets, I wallowed in the scent of our cum, the heat of his skin, and the satisfaction that coursed through us both. My stomach swirled with lingering neediness as Daniel nuzzled my hair and sighed softly.

He lifted the blankets enough to let a refreshing gasp of cool air in, and then dropped them down again. It was too dark to see his face, but his soft lips pressing sweet kisses against my cheek, ear, and neck told me enough. My heart soared.

Any doubts that tried to creep in—thoughts of the other people sleeping in the room, or a certain someone waking in an Italian apartment somewhere across the world—I shoved away ruthlessly, lost in the sweet intimacy Daniel and I had found under the motel covers.

Chapter Fourteen

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In the harshlight of day, Windy, Minty, and Antonio stared at my face, shooting significant glances toward Daniel’s matching case of beard burn. Shockingly, our normally mouthy friends said nothing and asked no questions about what’d obviously happened between us, even though several red hickeys were visible at the collar of my T-shirt.

Memories of Daniel’s body and the heart-stopping orgasm from the night before swelled in me. There’d been almost no light under the covers, and my photographic mind puzzled over the memories of blind pleasure.

But it seemed obvious to me in the sun’s unblinking glare: our first time probably shouldn’t have been in a motel room surrounded by three other people.

Our first time? Would it be our only time?

What the fuck had I done? What was Idoing? I’d messed up everything. Again.

I’d suffered so much over the last year, hurting other people and living a lie to be with Adam. I didn’t want that life anymore, but what I’d done with Daniel wasn’t without strings. He’d want something, and I wasn’t ready. And it wasallmy fault. I’d kissed him, and I’d clung to him, and I’d refused to put a stop to it.

Daniel wasn’t a casual-sex kind of person. I knew that already. And despite all evidence to the contrary, neither was I. What we’d done was big, and he wasn’t the type of guy to see it as a one-time thing. He’d want some sort of commitment. Some sort ofsomething. And what could I tell him?

Adam was coming to visit me in two weeks. School started soon. Was I ready to revoke Adam’s second chance at choosing me? At leaving Leslie, transferring to UT, and being with me—openly and honestly?

Adam deserved that chance. We both did. He was my first love, and that didn’t justend.

The worst was how I couldn’t even look at Daniel without feeling like I needed to take off running as hard and fast as I could. Anxiety had me in its grasp, and I was terrified he’d corner me and demand answers. I managed to keep at least one person between us as we packed up our things and double-checked the room. The drive home was going to be excruciating with him riding shotgun.

I knew my avoidance hurt him. It was written all over his face. I wished I could sneak him off to a quiet corner alone to reassure him. I wished I could tell him I was happy we’d finally given in to what we both wanted. I wished Iwashappy!

The truth was I wanted him desperately, maybe more than I’d ever wanted anyone, and yet this morning nausea churned in my belly.

Becausenowwhat? Now he’d want me to decide. Because of what we’d done, I owed him a decision. And my honesty.

My tongue tasted sour despite brushing my teeth twice before leaving.

When we met up with Robert and Barry to pack up the cars, they both did a double-take and did the eye-talk that longtime couples do, but they also said nothing. I could only assume I radiated the same conflicted misery I had churning inside, and that was scary enough no one wanted to poke at it with even the most well-meaning stick.

It was almost a relief when Daniel cornered me alone as I cleaned out the back seat of the Volvo where the guys had smashed potato-chip crumbs into the upholstery. The rest of the gang was in the Cozy Inn’s surprisingly spacious lobby, taking advantage of the free breakfast. I’d been too anxious to consider the prospect of greasy sausage and chewy eggs appetizing even at that price.

“Hey.” Daniel leaned against the passenger door, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, his hair hidden beneath a baseball cap. He looked tired, but in the tight, bright blue Icehouse T-shirt he’d pulled on that morning, he was somehow handsomer than ever.

My throat grew tight, and my heart ached. His morning stubble and eyelashes shone in the sunshine. I wanted to reach out to touch and kiss him, to hold him tight, and breathe in his warm, delicious scent.

But I couldn’t.

“Hey.” I ducked back into the car to pull out a crumpled Fritos bag. I almost hit my head as I slid back out.

“Did you sleep okay?”

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