Page 14 of Beautifully Devoted

“Will you try it?” Jagger asks.

“Try what?”

“Hooking up with a guy.”

My hands still. “Depends on the guy, I guess.”

“And you’ve never found a guy you wanted to try hooking up with?”

Again, the truth about that might be too much, but there’s another explanation I can give him that’s just as true as the fact I can’t picture myself ever getting serious about a guy. “I’m pickier about guys than girls.”

“How so?”

My fingers resume toying with Jagger’s hair since the absentminded motion helps me think. “I like brown hair regardless, but I don’t really care what size women are. Tall, short, skinny, curvy, I like all of it. With men, I’d want someone close to my size. The appeal of being with a guy, for me, is that you don’t have to be gentle, so I wouldn’t want someone drastically smaller or weaker than I am.”

“You just described most of our teammates.”

“Yeah,” I chuckle softly. “I guess athletes are my type, but I’m not gonna randomly hook up with the guys I play with just to say I’ve been with a man. Besides, I’m not sure any of them are gay or bi.”

“What about that guy Aiden, Liam’s friends with? The one in Bennet’s fraternity. He’s cute, right? And kinda tall.”

Aiden is cute and tall, with light hair and warm, dark eyes. I’ve never really felt a pull toward him, although I wasn’t searching for one either. I guess maybe I could open my mind to that possibility, and if Jagger’s encouraging me to do it, it wouldn’t be a betrayal of our friendship.

“Yeah, maybe,” I muse since I’m not ready to commit to that idea. “And you? Did you get to the bottom of your prostate orgasm rabbit hole?”

“I’m not sure yet,” he says softly, wriggling a little closer to signal he’s done talking. This time, as Jagger falls silent, his steady breathing tells me he’s asleep, and I’m not far behind.

Jagger

Sunlight is streaming through the rickety blinds on the window by the time I finally open my eyes, though I can’t say I’m surprised I slept in. For as long as I can remember, I’ve slept better next to Cameron than I have on my own. I think that’s because he’s fiercely protective of me, even in his sleep, and my subconscious knows it.

I don’t allow myself to indulge in these sleepovers too often, though. I’m in my twenties now, which means one of these days I’ll have to give them up completely and fight my demons on my own, so I try to limit them to the days when I’m in dire need. The anniversary of my dad’s disappearance is one of those times.

Though Cam is already up—probably making us protein shakes—his sandalwood scent still lingers on the pillow, and I bury my face in it, inhaling the leather and wood undertones that remind me of home.

Okay, technically they remind me of his home since his dad is the one who got him hooked on the soap, but I basically grew up there, so I count it as mine too.

Like Cameron, his dad is a stable, reliable presence in my life, so I’m pretty sure that’s why their smell triggers such intense feelings of safety and security. Oddly enough, the smell alone doesn’t do anything for me in my room. I tested that theory by lighting a sandalwood candle the first night we spent in this house, just to see if that might help me sleep through the night, making it possible to spend a solid eight hours in my bed when this anniversary hit.

It didn’t work.

Of course, that might’ve been because I kept dreaming about leaving the candle lit and burning the house down, and jolting awake to make sure I wasn’t in the middle of a five-alarm fire.

After that, I figured sleeping with Cam was the safest solution, so I didn’t even try to fight the desire to come in here after I’d sampled enough gay porn to know that the participants are either brilliant actors, or this prostate thing is worth investigating further.

I still have no idea how to accomplish that.

Speaking of… My best friend is bi and he’s never hooked up with a man. I’m still a little salty about the fact I wasn’t made aware of his interest in dicks until yesterday, but since I know he genuinely believes that it was more of an, it didn’t come up thing—no pun intended—than an, I have a secret thing, I’ll overlook it.

Just like I hope he’ll overlook the fact I almost touched his junk.

Seriously, what was I thinking?

I’ve seen and felt his cock before, dozens of times, since we share locker rooms, dorm rooms, and wrestle like no one’s business. I’ve never deliberately touched it though, and I’m still not even sure why that crossed my mind.

I flop onto my back and close my eyes, which only makes it easier to picture his face.

Brown eyes open wide... Blonde brows hidden beneath his hair and his mouth slightly parted... He was stunned, that’s for sure, which is understandable since there’s an internet full of dicks I could’ve checked out, yet I asked to see his. I even considered taking him up on the challenge to make it hard.

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