Page 77 of Oar Than Friends

‘Thank you.’

‘So this is your room?’ He peered around, walking slowly to my desk, running his finger along photos of my family, one of Jake and me, a little plastic lobster keying from my dad’s boat, and a clean paper napkin from the pie shop we’d visited. He picked up my bottle of perfume from the dresser and lifted it to his nose, then spied the makeshift movie night I’d set up for myself. ‘What are we watching?’

‘Just a cheesy romcom. I haven’t started it yet.’

‘Sounds good to me.’ He puckered his lips against mine for the quickest of kisses and turned away.

He first kicked off his shoes, then his cap landed on the desk where he threw it, and he flopped down onto the bed, running his fingers through his hair. The mattress dipped low beneath him, and his body was so long his feet were tipped over the end until he shifted up the bed, propping a couple of pillows behind his head, and lay back.

‘Ooh, bouncy.’ He patted the space next to him and stretched his arms out wide. ‘Come on, babe, get in and give me a cuddle. Do as you’re told.’

The second I sank into the mattress next to him the heaviness vanished from my chest, even more so when I got myself comfy in the crook of his arm.

‘Thank you for coming,’ I leaned up to kiss his cheek, ‘this is an awesome surprise.’

‘You’re welcome.’ He reached for the bowl of popcorn, balanced it on his flat stomach and threw a handful into his mouth. ‘Let’s start the movie, shall we?’

His eyes sparkled so much as he grinned that I almost forgot what we were doing until he dropped a piece of popcorn in my mouth and reached over to start up the movie. But it was too late. His spare arm had wrapped around my side, and the second his palm pushed under my pyjama shirt and brushed against my belly, I lost all interest in watching anything at all.

That one singular, tiny movement was like dropping a match on a pyre. A pyre would have burnt less hot. In a second my body went from cosy in his arms to a fully charged electricity field. I was wide awake, buzzing with latent energy, and he was the source.

Soon every inch of me ached for release.

I removed the bowl of popcorn from its current resting place, and put it on the nightstand.

‘What are you doing?’

I opened my mouth to speak, then realized that telling him I was about to seduce him would sound like the dumbest thing in the world. Plus, I was pretty sure you didn’t tell someone you were seducing them, you just did it.

He was still propped against the pillows as I straddled him. His thighs were so wide I almost toppled off and his expression transformed from curious to bemused, though given the undisguised twitch in his pants hitting directly in the spot I was aching the most, maybe I wasn’t so dumb. He opened his mouth to say something but stopped as I began unbuttoning my pyjamas, and his eyes widened.

Perhaps they weren’t as unsexy as I originally thought, though there were a lot of fucking buttons.

‘Kate?’ he paused, his eyes glued to where my fingers were working. ‘Kate, what are you doing?’

‘What does it look like?’ Another button slipped out of its hold.

He grabbed my hands and stilled them. ‘Babe, I didn’t come here for sex. I came here so you weren’t alone when you were sad.’

‘I know that, and you’re here and I’m not sad any more. And this is an opportunity we might not get for a while.’ I frowned, ‘Don’t you want to have sex?’

I rolled my hips, feeling his dick thicken underneath me, and he let out a groan that coated my nerve endings in fire.

His hands dropped from mine and found a new home on my hips, which he gripped tightly. ‘Is that even a real question? Of course I want to, I’ve wanted to since I first laid eyes on you, but I don’t want you to think …’

‘I thought you didn’t care what people think,’ I interrupted.

His fingertips dug into my skin as he slowly rocked me over his lap. ‘I don’t care whatpeoplethink. I care whatyouthink.’

‘Well, I think … no, IknowI want us to have sex. Tonight. Now.’

My pyjama shirt fell away and his eyes were no longer on my face. I ran my fingers through his hair, ‘Ozzy, you look like your brain is about to explode.’

His hands inched slowly, too slowly, up my skin, grazing across my ribs, and he sat up enough that I could feel his hot breath against my chest, pushing his face between my breasts to inhale deeply.

‘I think it might be. Have I ever told you I love it when you call me Ozzy?’

His nose brushed across my left nipple, tightening italmost to the point of pain, and it was my turn for my brain to break, and my voice.

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