Page 143 of Snowed In

He sounds embarrassed, the choke of his words almost wet from tears.

I hate that even more than I hate him.

“It’s fine. I just…well, I like them all. But yeah, I like missionary and doggy style. You know what those are?”

“Yeah,” he says and then shifts against me again and I can feel his dick, thick and throbbing against my thigh. He’s fully hard now and damn if it doesn’t make my mouth water.

“I’m, um, sorry. The sex talk is getting me…horny.”

I hold my breath for a moment and then ask, “You like guys, Christian?”

He swallows, his throat clicking. “I mean, I was never allowed to like guys. So I don’t really know, but I do…you know. I like…you.”

I almost swallow my tongue, my ears ringing, my heart nearly throbbing out of my chest.

“Me? What the fuck?”

“I, well, I didn’t mean…”

He’s stumbling over his words now and my dick is nearly bursting through my boxers. There’s no going back. I’m full speed ahead.

“You either meant it or you didn’t,” I bite out and he’s silent for a long time.

“Yeah, I guess… I meant it.”

The only sound after that is the beating of the wind and snowhitting the windows and rattling the doors. Our breathing is labored, and I can feel the thump of his pulse in his neck as it beats frantically.

“I thought you didn’t like me?” I finally say and he huffs a laugh.

“No, I’ve never disliked you. You just make me real nervous. You’re, um, you’re the reason I know I don’t just only want girls.” That last bit is a mere whisper, but I hear it.

I fucking hear it.

“No shit,” is what my stupid mouth utters.

“Yeah, I think it’s all the tattoos. When I saw you at Bree’s apartment, standing there, brooding, I, well, I got all…hot and bothered.”

“Hot and bothered?” I ask and he sighs, almost sounding ashamed of it.

“Yeah. I guess. I had a physical reaction. Have been having them ever since. Even though you don’t likeme.”

I don’t respond because Idon’tlike him. He makes me feel things; weird, uncomfortable things.

He makes me feel less than as well.

Maybe because he’s so damn good and I’m, well, I’m not. But I realize that’s a me issue and has nothing to do with him.

It’s my insecurity from my past, from growing up with parents who didn’t give a shit about me, and friends who left me behind.

“I don’t hate you.”

He huffs and then wiggles on top of me. “I’m glad because I don’t hate you at all.”

I feel the warmth of his breath on my skin and it heats my entire body.

My hands move up his back again and I thread my fingers through his hair, absorbing the way he melts into me, so responsive, so malleable. I bet I could maneuver him any which way and he’d let me.

I bet he’d be exactly what I want at any given moment.

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