Page 55 of Virgin Skin

I let out a breath once we’re alone, but as soon as my gaze lands on Milo across the shop, my lungs seize again. It’s just us. The glow of the computer screen shines on his face now that the overhead fluorescent lights have been turned off. His hair looks even messier than it did earlier, and I feel like I should find that less charming than I do. How does a grown man manage toalwayslook like he just rolled out of bed?

He chews on his thumbnail, clicking away with the mouse as he digitally files the forms. I drag my eyes over him, remembering again that he’s wearing my underwear. Who does that? I try to imagine him stumbling out of my bed this morning, naked, gleefully pawing through my underwear drawer without an ounce of shame.

A laugh bubbles up in my throat and my cock swells. The sound draws his attention away from the computer. He stops clicking and looks over at me.

“I’m just about finished up,” he says.

I nod. “Cool. I’m just going to take out the trash and then I’ll be all set.”

I gather up all of the bags piled near the back door and haul them outside. When I step back in, I run right into Milo.

“Oomph,” he grunts.

“Sorry.” My hands somehow end up wrapped around his biceps, and we’re chest to chest, not an inch of space between us.

He gives a breathless chuckle, the sound vibrating in his chest, his warm breath puffing against my face.

I need to let go of him.

I need to put some space between us.

The shadows make his eyelashes look longer and the slight stubble on his cheeks thicker than it actually is. His dimple makes an appearance, and for a minute we just stare at each other.

Is he waiting for me to say something?

Am I?

All I can hear is the thundering of my pulse in my ears. And I really do need to let him go. My fingers twitch against his skin, but I don’t actually manage to take my hands off of him.

“Piston.”

I can’t read the inflection in the way he says my name. I’m not sure if he’s teasing or flirting or just trying to point out thatI’m still just standing here, gripping him like my life depends on it, staring at him.

His gaze flickers down to my lips and it’s like flipping a switch. I don’t know if I move first or he does, but either way we end up with our tongues tangled, swallowing each other’s muffled grunts. I thread my fingers through his messy hair, and we stumble through the back room blindly, back into the shop.

My pulse races and somewhere in the back of my mind I know this is fucking insane. Hero could come back. Any of the guys could walk right in. Hell, someone could just walk past the window and get curious enough to press their nose up against it. I can’t find it in me to give a fuck though.

Milo sighs and groans against my lips, hooking his fingers in my belt loops to drag me along. Our shoes squeak against the floor and our breathing sounds harsh in the silence of the shop. His tongue strokes over mine and, fuck, I can’t get enough of the taste of him. Is it possible to get addicted to a person?

I’ve spent my whole damn life paranoid that one drink too many and I could end up like my mom. Maybe I was worrying about the wrong drug all along.

Milo backs up into my tattoo chair and laughs against my lips. I swallow the sound greedily, licking deeper into his mouth. My cock throbs, dragging against his through the layers of our clothes. Knowing he’s throbbing insidemyunderwear has a primal kind of satisfaction filling my chest. I growl low in my throat and break away from his lips to nip gently at the edge of his jaw.

“What were you planning to do if I didn’t notice you were wearing these?” I tease my fingers along the waistband of the briefs, canting my hips to grind our erections together again. “Were you just going to put them back in my drawer and leave them there for me? Did you want me to wear the same underwear your cock had rubbed inside all day?”

He digs his fingers roughly into my back, tilting his head to the side and panting as he thrusts against me a little faster.

“Fuck, that’s so nasty,” he gasps, drawing in a sharp breath when I suck on the soft hollow of his throat.

“It’s fucking filthy,” I agree gruffly, tugging the button on his jeans open and lowering myself to my knees.

Milo leans back against my chair to take the weight off his trembling legs. His eyes are on me, shining with lust as I lower his zipper and nuzzle my face against the hot, pulsing bulge straining the soft fabric of my expensive bamboo boxer briefs. A dark spot blooms right over the head of his cock where his precum is soaking through.

I drag my lips over the stain, holding his gaze.

“Fuck,” he murmurs.

“Are you sorry for being so dirty?” I purr, flicking the tip of my tongue over the same spot. It mostly just tastes like fabric and laundry detergent, but there’s just enough of a salty-sweet hint of his precum seeping through to make my cock twitch and my mouth water.

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