Page 43 of Forever We Fall

My smirk is sinister. “I’m not the only one who’s hard and wide in more ways than one.”

“Are you? Now?”

“Harder and wider than I’ve ever been,” I offer, unapologetically.

He pulls his fingers back until they nearly separate from mine, then pushes them back together so that our fingers are under each other’s palms. Slowly, he lowers our joined hands into the space between our hips.

His knuckles are a centimeter from my dick.

“Can I?—”

“Yes.” I have to pin my hip to the bed to keep from shoving them forward into his touch. I can’t help but spout my answer. “You can do anything you want.” His eyes go wide. “Or nothing.”

Please don’t choose nothing.

“I don’t—” I’m about to tell him that there’s no pressure here, except for in my balls, and that is not his problem. It’s his fault but not his problem. But the edge of his knuckles glide down the length of my dick.

Even though the fabric of my boxers separates us, and it’s just the ridges of his fingers, my dick jerks. My brain scrambles, and I don’t think I could count by twos if someone held a gun to my head.

All my brain cells shoot to my balls.

“You don’t, what?” Arlo purrs.

My lips part. No intelligible words escape.

His head tilts. The curve of his lips ripple into a kissable purse. He strums me again, moving my hand along with his. “What happened to the cocksure guy, who knows it all?”

I moan, loudly, blatantly.

My body is a live wire. When he touches me, we go to ground. Sparks ignite. Nothing has ever felt this good and he’s barely touching me.

“Hota?”

A whimper is my only response. My brain and body can’t focus on anything but Arlo and the shocking possibilities right in front of me.

“Do you want me to touch you?” He licks his lips, looking as confident as I’ve ever seen him. “Really touch you?”

“Please,” I beg, not above it on any level. Not with Arlo. I’d crawl on my belly for him. I’d scrape my cheek across the ground or even kiss the dirt-covered earth at his command.

He pulls his hand away. Our hands away.

I bite my tongue to keep from whining. The tip of my cock weeps at the loss.

He lifts our hands to his mouth. The brush of his lips across my palm makes me gasp. His deep eyes are steady on mine as he disengages our fingers and sets my hand on his just under the plush of the covers.

My fingers hold him tight to keep from wandering. He hasn’t given me the okay, and I’m too nervous to ask for it.

Me. Too nervous? Who would have ever thought?

Arlo’s fingertips touch the center of my chest over my heart and spread wide until his palm calls to my most protected organ. I’d cut it out and give it to him. He wouldn't even need to ask.

Slowly, he maps my shoulders and pecs, and then each delineated segment of my abdomen. By the time he reaches the elastic of my boxers, I’m primed to explode.

His gaze, which had been roaming my body, lifts to mine. “I’ve never touched a cock, besides my own.”

“Me neither,” I admit.

“What about Nate?”

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