Page 32 of Virgin Skin

My throat tightens and we just stare at each other in the dark for a minute. Fuck, I want to kiss him again. I didn’t want tostopkissing him earlier. I want to lick every moan and gasp out of his mouth and taste every inch of his skin. I force myself to pull my hands off him.

“Listen, about earlier…”

Milo puts a hand up to stop me.

“We don’t have to post-game that shit. Let’s just order something for dinner and start the new season ofUmbrella Academy.”

I let out a breath and nod. “Sure.”

See? This is fine. Milo didn’t read anything into my momentary lapse in self-control. As long as I can keep my hands off him from here on out, everything will be fine.

Chapter 12

MILO

There are a lotof things to like about living with Piston, but the acoustics in the bathroom are definitely near the top of the list. Hot water beats down on me and the clean, artificial smoke scent of the bodywash I keep borrowing from Piston fills the steamy air all around me while I belt out “Dance the Night Away” by Dua Lipa. It’s Jag’s fault it’s stuck in my head, but damn is it a bop.

I shake my hips and use my shampoo bottle like a microphone. I’m putting on quite an entertaining show for the audience in my head, if I do say so myself. They’re chanting my name, pleading for an encore. Some of them even think I should win a Grammy, and who am I to argue with that?

Just when I’m hitting my stride in the second verse, I’m interrupted by a loud pounding at the bathroom door.

“For the love of god, I’m begging you to sing any other song in the world.” Piston’s voice is muffled through the door, but he sounds truly desperate. I giggle and sing even louder.

Confession: One of the reasons I’m still hanging on to my V-card at twenty-eight is because I’ve always been better at annoying people than flirting. Oops?

“Sorry, what was that? I can’t hear you over the shower,” I pause my singing to shout, then start right back up again, back at the beginning of the songobviously, since he messed up my flow.

The door rattles, then creaks open.

“It’s bad enough that we can’t get Jag to stop playing that damn song on repeat, I can’t take hearing it at home too.” He’s loud and clear this time, the deep timbre of his voice adding weight to the already heavy, humid air around me.

I push open the shower curtain, unbothered by the way water droplets patter against the tile floor and not doing anything to hide the fact that his voice alone has my dick starting to chub. It’s been five damn days since that kiss, and I swear I’m about to lose my mind with how polite and distant he’s been ever since. There’s an extra few inches of space between us every night on the couch and it makes me want to scream.

His eyes drop to my cock immediately and it swells a little more under the brief attention. Unlike getting caught naked in the laundry room, there’s nothing embarrassing about this.Pistonis the one who just barged into the bathroom while I’m clearly showering. Even if I did goad him, it’s still on him.

I wrap my sudsy hand around my cock and give myself a slow tug, leaving soap bubbles clinging to my pubes and running down my shaft.

Piston draws in a sharp breath and an obvious bulge swells in his jeans.

“Gotta make sure I’m squeaky clean before I hit the club with Jag tonight,” I say innocently. “Now, what was it you were saying before?”

His eyes darken the same way they did right before he kissed me behind Ink Slingers, and his jaw ticks just like it has all week, every time going out tonight has come up.

“This is really how you want to spend your Saturday night? With sweaty strangers pawing at you in a dark club?” he asks in a deep growl.

Goose bumps pebble on my skin in spite of the hot water raining down on me. I hold his gaze for a few beats, then shrug.

“Why not? Unless you’d rather I hang around here instead.” All he has to do is ask and I’ll text Jag so damn fast my phone will smoke.

Piston stares right back at me, his jaw working and his eyebrows twitching, clearly fighting with himself. I turn around, leaving the shower curtain hanging open as I set down the shampoo and pick the bodywash back up. I pour some into my palm, even though I already washed thoroughly before he barged in with that flimsy excuse of not wanting to hear me sing Dua Lipa. I lather it up between my hands, still waiting for Piston’s answer.

Just tell me to stay home.

He doesn’t say a word, but I can tell he’s still here. I can hear his tightly controlled breathing and feel the cool air coming in from the hallway, letting all the steam out of the bathroom.

Once my hands are nice and sudsy again, I spread my legs and lean forward, bracing one hand against the slippery, tiled wall and sliding the other over my ass cheek and into my crease. Piston’s breath catches audibly again. It’s the horny, nearly stifled growl at the end that gives me the confidence boost I need to keep tempting him. I don’t care how many feet he puts between us on the couch, he wants me.

I use two fingers to soap up my hole, looking at him over my shoulder at the same time. His pupils are wide, and his eyes arefixed on my fingers, moving in circles around my rim. He’s still as a statue, not even breathing as far as I can tell.

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