Page 95 of Goodbye Note

He pulled back, enough to study my face while he did it again. Soft, barely there. My body tightened, burning at the base of my spine.

Varian’s lips parted, his eyes ablaze. More divine than he’d ever looked. “This okay?”

I didn’t have words. Just panting, incoherent sounds. Varian fed off it, curling his fingers around me, jacking me. A desperate, all-consuming lust took over. I bucked into him, clumsy and not confident in my movements, driven by blind want for his fingers to keep doing what they were doing.

But he stilled.

I groaned deep in the back of my throat.

“First, tell me something.” His thumb slid over my cheek.

“Anything.”

“Are you going to regret this when we are sober?”

“I don’t think I could ever regret anything with you.” I delivered it with all the conviction in my chest.

“Okay. Then if you won’t regret it, is this a one-time thing?” he asked, his focus so intense.

“You said one question. That’s two.”

He tightened his hand around my cock, and my knees opened while my body shuddered wordlessly.

Our mouths crashed, and he let his question go. He slid his tongue over mine, and I sucked on it. We breathed the same air and lost time. The DVD rolled credits on repeat, but it wasn’t the worst make out music. We ended up on our sides, slowing down. His breaths made his chest expand against mine.

He worked over me slowly, taking his time, and I wished he’d do more. Take me out of my pants or give me more friction. Anything.

I scratched my nails over his scalp, and he moaned into my mouth, squeezing my base. My hips jerked forward, and I ground into his hand. He smiled against my mouth, my lower lip snagging on his teeth.

The moment his hand dipped into my sweats and closed around my bare cock, skin on skin, I came. Losing it in a relentless buck of my hips, driving my dick through his fingers. Spilling all over them. Pleasure exploded through every nerve.

I collapsed flat on my back, gasping.

What the fuck did I just do?

TWENTY-EIGHT

VARIAN

We stilled, hands on each other and mouths a breath apart.

I didn’t dare move or break the spell for fear of tainting his post-orgasmic clarity. But I watched it morph. His jaw flexed, and fear flashed in his eyes.

I struggled for words. What could I even say? ‘Sorry I coerced you into a hand job while you think you’re still straight.’

I had visions of him throwing me out of the bus on the side of the road and having to call my brother for the worst walk of shame ever.

“I’m—”

‘Sorry’ stopped on my tongue as he cut me off. “No.”

“No? What does that mean?” I stumbled over my words.

“I don’t want this to be a one-time thing.” The fear remained etched in the lines of his mouth, contradicting his words.

“You don’t?” I asked, trying not to let the swirls in his eyes set me on edge. “Tell me what that means.”

“I liked your hands on me.”

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