Page 57 of Virgin Skin

“Pizza sounds good.”

Chapter 19

MILO

I wince as Iclimb out of Piston’s car and my clothes drag against the crusted cum matted into the hair under my belly button with a sharp tug. At least it’s a momentary distraction from the thousand and one questions that have been ping-ponging around my head for the last ten minutes since my brain managed to reboot itself after that earth-shattering orgasm.

What the hell did I do to get Piston’s hands on me tonight and how can I do it again?

Is he already promising himself that this time was really,reallythe last time?

Will he be mad if I make a habit of borrowing his underwear? Because I think I might have unlocked a new kink.

I follow him inside, trying to study his body language as he kicks off his boots and shrugs out of his jacket, looking for any clues about how he’s feeling. He’s stoic. His expression is impassive, and his movements are guarded but not tense. Come on, man, give me something.

Does he regret humping me in his tattoo chair?

Oh, fuck. Is he going to think of tonight every time he’s doing a tattoo now? Please, please, please let that one be a ‘yes.’

Questions, questions, questions. I can’t ask them though. I may not have much experience with relationships, but I know enough to see how delicate this is. The wrong question, the wrong move, and he’ll slam the door shut on this whole thing.

Am I supposed to let him?

Am I pushing too hard?

Fuck, I want this. And I don’t just mean the sex stuff. I push my messy hair off my forehead and dig deep for some fucking chill.

“Hey, Piston?” I plop down on the couch and stretch my legs out across the cushions. He arches an eyebrow at me, silently inviting me to go ahead and ask whatever’s on my mind. “Do you mind if we order sushi instead of pizza?”

He chuckles, lifting my feet so he can sit down on the other side of the couch then settling them onto his lap. Fuck, why is that so sweet? It feels intimate. Maybe it’s just all of these happy, post-sex bonding hormones tricking me. Maybe Piston puts all of his friends’ bare feet in his lap when they chill on his couch.

That thought makes me irrationally annoyed. I squirm a little and he squeezes my ankle, silently stilling me.

“There aren’t any decent sushi places close enough to deliver. If you’re up for a twenty-minute drive, we can go to a sit-down place.”

I can tell by the way his voice dips that the last thing he wants to do right now is get back in the car and drive a couple of towns over now we’re home and settled in. He doesn’t say that though, he just looks at me and waits for me to decide. He doesn’t want to go, but he will if I push it. Fucking adorable.

Piston is smitten with me.

He might not know it yet, he might notwantto know it, but helikesme.

Oof, I am all over the fucking place right now. I feel like a little kid plucking petals off a flower.He loves me. He loves me not.

He cocks his head. “What?”

“What?” I echo, hearing the singsong tone in my own voice.

“Your face is just all over the place. I’m dying to know what’s going on in your head. One second you’re scowling, the next you’re grinning like an idiot.”

I snort. “My mind is a very whiplashy place sometimes.”

“Whiplashy?” he echoes teasingly.

I roll my eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those ‘that’s not a word’ people. I said it, that makes it a word.”

“If you say so.” He pats my foot.

I playfully kick him for his patronizing tone, and he wraps his fingers firmly around my ankle to get me to be still again. Fuck, why is that hot? Probably because it’s way too easy to imagine him grabbing my ankles like that and hoisting them over his shoulders so he can settle between my legs and…

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