Page 62 of Virgin Skin

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Nope, not going to answer that one, not even in the privacy of my own head.

I grunt and grab a pillow to put over my face. The damn pillow smells like Milo too. He’s been using my soap, so how the hell can the pillow smell likehim? Fuck if I know. I fling the pillow away. My stomach flips at the sound of an engine, but it only takes half a second for me to realize it’s a car and not a Harley. It slows to a stop and a car door opens and closes, the sound echoing in the quiet outside. A neighbor getting home? Probably.

But less than a minute later, the front door creaks open and then bangs closed again. I listen to the shuffling sound of Milo taking his shoes and coat off. He curses quietly and there’s a thump like he bumped into something. More shuffling, the sound of the kitchen sink running… I track his progress through the house, including a few more muffledfucksand softthuds.

His footsteps stop outside of my bedroom, and I hold my breath, hoping he’ll just keep going into his own room where he belongs… Hoping he’ll open the door and climb into bed with me. My heart thunders, and then there’s a quiettap, tap, tapat my door.

I should pretend to be asleep.

If I don’t say anything, he’ll go to his own bed and sleep it off.

“Yeah?” I call quietly.

The door opens slowly. I brace for light to flood into my dark room from the hallway, but it doesn’t come. No wonder he was running into every wall on his way through the house, the drunk idiot didn’t bother to turn on any lights. I smile at how weirdly endearing that is and wait for him to say something.

“Hey,” he whispers.

“Hey.”

I clutch my sheets, holding myself as still as possible.

“If I ask to sleep in your bed, will it freak you out?” He shuffles his feet against the wood floor and nervously rattles the doorknob as he leans against the frame.

My fingers twitch around the fistful blankets.

“Mi, if you get into this bed with me, there’s no way I’m going to be able to keep my hands off of you,” I say hoarsely. My cock swells, fully in favor of that plan.

“Okay.” He takes one small step inside.

I let out a groan. “You’re drunk.”

Milo scoffs, and even though I can’t see his face in the dark, I know he’s rolling his eyes at me.

“I’ll tell you a little secret, Captain Consent.”

“Captain Consent?” I repeat dryly, and he giggles as he crosses the room and leans over the bed.

I can see him better now that he’s closer, his features lit up by the moonlight outside reflecting off of the snow and coming through my windows. He’s smiling, his dimple on full display, his eyes dancing with mischief and drunkenness.

“I would have said yes four drinks ago too. You’re not taking advantage of me.”

It should be a harder decision. I’m digging myself deeper every time I give in and drag him into my bed. Except I’m not dragging him, he’s the one already undressing before I’ve evensaid yes. He’s the one pawing at my comforter and sticking out his lip in an exaggerated pout.

He wants this.

I want this.

We can sort the rest out tomorrow, can’t we? The next day at the very latest.

With a huff, I fling the blankets back and wrap my arms around his slender body to pull him in. He laughs and scrambles in eagerly, pressing himself up against me. His skin is chilled from being outside and he burrows in close, dragging his nose along the stubbled edge of my jaw and teasing his fingertips over my bare belly.

He left his underwear on.Myunderwear. Again. I should be annoyed that he keeps stealing them, shouldn’t I? It shouldn’t be making my dick swell and ache to know that he must have snuck in here again this morning while I took a shower, rifled through my drawers, and helped himself to another pair of my boxer briefs like they belong to him.

I twist a handful of the fabric in my fist and pull him flush against me, bare chest to bare chest, his thigh wedged between mine, our noses bumping, our mouths barely an inch apart.

“The house was quiet without you tonight.”

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