Page 21 of Virgin Skin

I swallow hard. “Yeah, of course.”

I glance past him, searching the small crowd for the guy I definitely haven’t been thinking about all day.

“He’s inside getting settled. Should be out soon.” He answers my unasked question. “He hasn’t had a chance to do laundry in over a week, so I told him to go ahead and throw a load in, and that you wouldn’t mind him borrowing something to wear in the meantime.”

My heart stutters just as the back door swings open and Milo steps out. As promised, he’s wearing a pair of my jeans and one of my hooded sweatshirts. Both are slightly baggy on him sinceI’ve got a good fifty pounds of muscle on him, but the sight of him in my clothes makes my gut heat and my cock respond instantly.

Fuck me.

I angle myself away from Hero so he can’t see that I’m on the verge of drooling and hyperventilating. He squeezes my shoulder again, then saunters away to pull Milo into the rowdy group. I glance over while he’s in the middle of introductions and sneak another quick peek.

Milo is preening under the attention with Hero by his side, telling all of our friends the hilarious story of being blindsided at the shop yesterday. I’m sure each and every one of them is itching to start telling Milo as many embarrassing stories as they can think of about his dad.

Milo looks over at me, our eyes meeting, and my heart jumps into my throat. I give him a nod of greeting and then start turning the batch of hot dogs I currently have on the grill.

How the fuck am I going to do this? How am I going to live with temptation right down the hallway? I’ve never had a problem with control before, but fuck does Milo make me want to lose it.

I’m going to have to figure it out one way or another. I’m just hoping like hell that he makes it easy on me.

Chapter 8

MILO

I’m still buzzing withenergy long after the horde of dudes clear out of Piston’s backyard and the bonfire is nothing but smoldering embers. My cheeks and abs hurt from laughing so much at all the ridiculous stories they shouted over each other to tell me. Some of them were adorable, like the time he stopped traffic on the highway to rescue a cat that he then took home and still has to this day. Others were hilarious, like a biker from a different club picking a fight and trying to throw hands just to have my dad challenge him to a breakdancing competition instead, then stealing the guy’s wallet and using the money inside to pay for a round of drinks for everyone at the bar that night. And all of them made me more and more glad that I took the risk to come out here to meet him.

I wasn’t expecting his friends to welcome me so easily, but fuck it was nice to feel like I was just another one of the guys in this weird little family he’s created for himself. Every single one of them were certified snacks with a capital S too, but I still couldn’t stop myself from sneaking glances at Piston anytime Ihad the chance all night. And I don’t think it was just because most of the other guys were already taken.

Unfortunately, as soon as we were alone, he practically sprinted for his bedroom. I’m guessing he’s already regretting letting Hero rope him into housing me. I look around the small bedroom. I slept here last night too, obviously, but I didn’t pay too much attention to it since I didn’t expect to be here for longer than a night. It’s not bad, all things considered. Definitely a huge step up from the motel. The bed is soft enough that I might just have a prayer of the knots in my back loosening after over a week sleeping on that block of cement that was passed off as a bed, there’s no moldy smell lingering in the air, and I can’t hear any muffled moans coming from the adjacent rooms.

Not that I would complain about hearing moans coming from Piston’s bedroom. My mind immediately conjures the memory of the sounds I heard through his door this morning: squeaking bed springs and muffled, heavy breathing. I wish I’d had the guts to knock and offer him a hand.

A wicked smile tugs at my lips, and I palm myself through the jeans I borrowed from him earlier. Would he have taken me up on it in the heat of the moment? Or was my idiotic reveal of my virgin status last night enough to seal the deal on his decision to keep his hands to himself?

More importantly, would it be bad form to keep flirting with him and seeing if I can wear down his resolve now that I live here? I mean, it’s not like he doesn’twantme. He already admitted as much. If some misguided sense of right and wrong is all that’s standing in our way, I feel like a little temptation is more than reasonable.

My stomach sinks as a completely different thought pops into my head. What if I do end up having to hear moaning coming from Piston’s room, but he’s not alone? Fuck my life, why didn’t I think of that sooner? Flirting with him might befair game, but repeatedly kicking any man he brings home in the shins until they flee into the night is most likely a step too far.

That’s a boner killer if I’ve ever met one.

I huff and stop groping my now softening cock. Before I can descend into a thought spiral about Piston’s theoretical sex life, I push myself out of bed. Movement always helps. Sit still too long and god knows what kinds of thoughts might catch up with you. Unfortunately, there aren’t a lot of things to keep me busy in here. I just moved in, so there’s nothing to tidy or reorganize. I suppose I could move the bed just to expend some energy, but there’s not exactly a whole lot of places to move it to considering the bedroom is probably all of sixty square feet. I can’t even fold my laundry because it’s…

Oh, that’s it! My laundry.

I practically prance out of the bedroom, thankful to have a task to busy myself with for a few minutes. The house is quiet, but I can see a light shining from under Piston’s bedroom door. Is he sitting in there bored out of his mind just so he can avoid me? I consider knocking so I can talk to him and make sure he’s actually okay with me being here, but maybe it’s not about me at all. Maybe he’s the kind of person who likes to retreat for quiet time after a rowdy night of socializing.

I decide to leave him be for now, returning my focus to my original laundry side quest. Pro tip: calling chores side quests makes them a hell of a lot more exciting. As I head down the dark hallway towards the laundry room, I lift the collar of Piston’s hoodie to my nose absently. Instead of a lungful of Piston’s subtle spicy cologne or the deodorant I smelled on it earlier, I’m met with the overwhelming stench of bonfire smoke. I wrinkle my nose and tug the fabric as far away from myself as I can manage with it still wrapped around my body.

The last thing I want is to get this stink all over my nice clean clothes, so as soon as I step into the laundry room andflip on the light, I tug the hoodie over my head. I didn’t bother to put anything on underneath it, so the cool air hits my bare skin, raising goose bumps and making my nipples harden. I toss the sweatshirt into the laundry hamper sitting in front of the washing machine and figure that while I’m at it, I might as well ditch the jeans too. I didn’t think it was appropriate to borrow another man’s underwear, no matter how much I would like to get into Piston’s, so once I strip out of the jeans, I’m freeballing it. Come to think of it though, would it have been any weirder to borrow his underwear than it was to let my junk rub all up inside his jeans?

Huh, that one is a head scratcher.

The jeans join the hoodie in the hamper, and I open the dryer to retrieve my clothes. In spite of living here all alone and only having his own laundry to do, Piston sprang for the big-ass machines. I start gathering stuff into my arms and tossing it into the empty basket on top of the dryer. When I get through the bulk of it though, I have to get down on my knees to reach the smaller items that ended up at the back of the deep tumbler.

I feel like I’m filming the opening of a ‘stuck in the dryer’ porn with my bare ass sticking out, the top half of my body inside the machine as I gather up the last few stray socks. The elastic-y string on one of them came loose and wrapped itself around the bolt at the back of the dryer. I wiggle my hips and stick my tongue between my teeth as I tug on it, trying to get the string to snap so I can free my sock and go back to my bedroom.

Good thing Piston already turned in for the night. This would be quite a sight to see, I’m sure. I chuckle to myself and then hoot when I finally get the string to snap.

“Got you, fucker,” I mutter.

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