Page 24 of Something Borrowed

“And so…what? We never do that again? Can you say that now, Stan? The rabbit is out of the hat.”

“Not the genie?”

“I don’t like the thought of anyone in a bottle. Hat fabric is a lot more forgiving, and the rabbit escapes.”

“Don’t change the subject. Do you actually want to do this again?”

“And again, andagain. Did you miss that bit?” I trace the broad shoulders that had been above me a few minutes ago. “It doesn’t have to be difficult, Stan.”

I nestle into him, feeling his sweat and hot skin. My cock rises, prodding his arm, and he reaches down almost absentmindedly and grips it, shuttling his hand up and down.

I gasp and rise on my knees, pushing into that tight, hot grip. “God,” I whisper. “I want you again. So fucking much.” I push his head back, holding his face in my palms as I move against him. “Let’s fuck,” I whisper.

“But what does it mean?”

“Does it have to mean anything? How can it mean anything more than what we already have?” I say hoarsely. “I know the most important fact, and that’s you’re the best person I know, Stan. I will never hurt you.”

“I won’t ever hurt you either.”

“Then let’s do this,” I urge, batting his hand away and climbing into his lap. His hands immediately lower to my arse, settling me against him so our cocks clash and nudge each other.

He takes my mouth in a feverish kiss, his face set in lines of stark arousal. “God, I want to fuck you,” he mutters.

I shudder. “Then let’s do this.” I kiss his lips before pulling back. “We’ll do this until you meet someone.”

He stills. “What about you?”

I roll my eyes. “That will never happen.You’rethe most important person to me, and that’s the way it will always be. It’show I know that this is all we can have.” I suck in a breath. “You know my history, Stan.”

“Shh,” he says, dropping gentle kisses onto my face. “I know. Shh. I know what keeps you awake each night.”

“We’ll do this until you meet someone.” I caress his lips, my fingers pressing gently at his skin before sliding down his throat and chest. When I pinch his nipples, he gasps. I say in a slow, hazy voice, “Until you meet someone special.”

“We. Don’t miss yourself out.”

“We,” I say breathily.

He drops kisses onto my lips, and I open them, letting his tongue inside, and then we’re a flurry of motion as we kiss and grope, breathing heavily. I grind down into him, my legs open and wrapped around him, my hole aching.

His fingers slide down the crack of my arse and tap knowledgeably against the pucker.

“Yes,” I groan and?—

I wake with a gasp,my cock throbbing like a toothache.

“Shit,” I mutter, palming my balls and giving the shaft a rough tug. I arch into my touch, and it only takes a few strokes before I come over my hand.

I subside back onto the bed, breathing hard. I wipe my hand on the sheet and lie there, feeling my breaths slowly steady.

The dream was so vivid. Not surprising, as the memory of our first time together has never lost its clarity. I can’t push it away, just like I can’t forget how it felt to have him push into my body later on, the feel of his arms pulling me close so that we seemed one person and not two.

It had been so fucking good—the best I’ve ever had.

Our connection made everything seem hotter and more intense. And so, we kept fucking, telling ourselves that we weren’t doing any harm, kidding ourselves that it wouldn’t change us. We’d always had the solemnly voiced vow hanging between us.We’ll do it until one of us meets someone special.

That potential hadn’t worried me. I’ve never had any intention of meeting that special someone. In fact, I’d run a mile if I did. Idiotically, I’d never realised that Stan already was that person. Not until Bennett came on the scene like a posh, very opinionated wrecking ball and changed everything.

My mind shies away from the conversation I’d had with Stan a few months ago.

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