Page 42 of Maybe You

He chuckles in the darkness, sounding soft and sleepy. It’s so intimate, lying here in the darkness with him.

“We’ve established that I’m up and alive,” he says, laughter still ringing through his words. “What did you want to say?”

This is it, Wren. Don’t mess it up.

“I want to have sex,” I blurt.

He goes so still that if I couldn’t see a Sutton-shaped body next to me in the darkness, I’d start to think I was alone.

“With me?” he eventually asks in a very not-Sutton-like choked voice.

“Yes.”

He stays still and doesn’t say anything else, which, again, is very much unlike Sutton. It takes me a moment to figure out that I should probably be the one who makes the first move because I’m the one who tossed the idea in the air.

So I wiggle closer until I’m right next to him, and then I turn on my side, too.

“Wr—” he starts to say, but if I wait too long, I’ll lose the little courage I have and chicken out again, so instead of doing that, I kiss him.

Or I try to. It’s dark, and right as I lean in, he turns himself onto his back, so I miss by a bit, toppling on top of him, and my lips hit his neck instead.

But that’s fine. I can work my way up to his lips.

He’s very still for a moment, and I’m not sure what to make of it, but I let my lips wander over the soft skin of his neck. I hit stubble after a bit, and it tickles my lips. In a moment of inspiration, I suck the skin just underneath his earlobe between my lips. He, in return, sucks in a very satisfying breath.

I’m a bit dizzy with a mix of a lot of things: beer, victorious elation that I’m doing this, and Sutton’s body underneath mine, so it takes me a second to really appreciate how hard he is, but once it hits, the apprehension that’s still lingering all over me is shoved firmly away. It’s replaced by a sharp bolt of lust that starts somewhere in the back of my brain, travels down my spine, and spreads everywhere in the blink of an eye. And by everywhere, I mostly mean my dick.

The best part? I’m not really thinking. I’m just going with my instincts, which means that the assortment of doubts and fears and nerves that always hover somewhere nearby are not here right now.

I lick over the side of Sutton’s neck, and his breaths turn into pants. His cock twitches against my hip, and electricity swoops through my belly.

“Wren,” he gasps when I bite down on his earlobe.

“Uh-huh?” I mutter, lips pressed into his neck.

“We have to stop. You’re not thinking clearly.”

I laugh against his skin, still in the middle of tasting every inch I can reach.

“I know,” I say, lips moving upward until they meet the corner of his mouth. “Isn’t it great?”

I catch his lower lip between my teeth.

He groans, his fingertips sink into my arms, and his hips punch up.

Need is like an ache inside me.

I lower my head to kiss him.

He moves so fast I don’t really register what’s happening before I slam face first into the pillow, and Sutton is suddenly gone.

The bedside light comes on, and I blink to get my vision back.

Sutton’s standing by the bed, his arms crossed over his chest, hands tucked underneath his armpits.

I’m not sure what happened here, but I’m not a fan.

We stare at each other, and I quirk my brows in question. His jaw clenches, and he drags his hand through his hair.

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