Page 24 of Virgin Skin

I furrow my brow, replaying his words in my head a few times and still barely making sense of them.

“How would that even work?”

Milo turns around and smirks at me over the rim of his coffee mug. “Lots of handjobs and fingering, obviously. The only part I’m still scratching my head over is what exactly the disembodied hand is getting out of it. Are handgasms a thing?” He scratches his head and shrugs. “To each their own, right?”

“Maybe the disembodied hand is just glad to make someone else happy,” I say blandly, and Milo laughs again.

“I guess so.”

Milo’s earlier point about the time reminds me that I need to finish fixing the sink before we have to head over to Ink Slingers. I grab the new compression nut and get back into position under the sink. The sound of his footsteps padding across the kitchen floor is the only warning I have before Milo is crowding me. He puts his hand on my thigh and leans in until he’s practically on top of me.

The warmth of his body sears through me instantly. I can smell the faint hint of my woodfire scented bodywash clinging to his skin, and my mouth waters with the desire to lick the coffee flavor right off his lips. My cock swells and I shift in the hope of getting his hand off me, even though in my head all I can think is,just a few inches higher.

“What are you working on?” His voice is full of innocent curiosity.

“Fixing a leak,” I grunt.

“Is it hard?” His fingers twitch against my thigh.

“Getting harder by the second,” I murmur, trying like hell to keep my eyes fixed on what I’m doing. It only takes a few seconds for me to fail though. I glance at Milo, his head stuffed under the sink right alongside me, his damp hair flopping into his eyes.

He meets my gaze, and my comment seems to click. He bites his lip and digs his fingers in a little more before quickly pulling his hand back.

“Sorry.”

I clear my throat and dig deep to summon the willpower not to slam my mouth into his in this confined space where no one would ever see us or know our sins.

“No, it’s not hard.” I answer his question seriously this time. “You know anything about plumbing?”

He shakes his head. “It seemed like most of my friends learned shit like this from their dads.”

“Yeah, I can relate. Arrow’s dad showed me a few things, mainly auto maintenance type stuff. The rest I’ve picked up on my own over the years.” I scoot over an inch so Milo has more space, and I start explaining what I’m doing, pointing out the parts of the P-trap I’m replacing. “I hired somebody to do it because I figured it would save me time, but the dumbass over-tightened the nut, and the damn thing cracked.”

“I hate when that happens,” Milo deadpans. “Maybe you can show me the right amount of pressure to use so I don’t make the same mistake. I would hate to overtighten the nuts.”

His hand lands on my stomach and my cock jerks.

“You’re trouble, Mi,” I mutter. The inches between us are evaporating by the second but I’m helpless to do anything to stop it.

Milo’s breath dances over my face and fuck if our bodies wedged together doesn’t feel like the best goddamn thing I’ve felt in ages. My lips literally ache for another taste of his. Would it besowrong to give in just one more time? Just one little kiss couldn’t make that big of a difference, could it?

The tip of my nose brushes his and my heart thunders wildly. Milo’s breath comes out in soft pants, puffing against my lips.

A creak and thud send me reeling away from him at lightning speed.

“Piston, please tell me you have some regular coffee and not just that weird, flavored shit.” Hero’s voice rings out.

My heart jumps into my throat and I scramble out from under the sink so fast that I hit my head in the process. Milo is a few seconds behind me. By the time Hero steps into the kitchen, I’m on my feet and Milo is still in the process of getting up.

“Hi, Hero. Hey, man.” I drag my hand across my roughly stubbled jaw. Do I look as guilty as I feel? If he had walked in thirty seconds later, he might have found me with my tongue down his son’s throat. “Coffee? Yeah, I’ve got coffee. What do you want? Columbian? Nigerian? I just got a new Somalian blend,” I ramble, hurrying over to the coffee cupboard to start pulling out different options for him.

“Dude, seems like you’ve already had too much coffee this morning.” He chuckles.

“He was showing me how to fix a P-spot,” Milo says.

“P-trap.” I correct him with a hoarse laugh. “The P-spot is something else, that I definitely was not touching.”

Hero coughs to cover another laugh. There isn’t a hint of suspicion anywhere on his face or in his body language though as he joins me and starts rifling through my overflowing coffee cupboard. Why would there be? He has no reason to think I would do anything to betray his trust or hurt him.

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