Page 338 of The Winslow Brothers

And my dad wouldn’t be all that thrilled, I think, but I keep that to myself.

I know he wouldn’t appreciate anything that’s been going on between Ty and me, but that’s not something I feel is necessary to get into. We’re both trying to alter the route of this crazy train, and that should be what counts the most.

“So…a truce?” I question and meet his eyes. “No more games? No more panties appearing out of thin air?”

“No more challenging each other?” He flashes a knowing smirk and stands to his feet. “And no more erotic displays in the middle of my lectures?”

That last one almost makes me blush, but I swallow past the discomfort and focus on the solution. “If you can get behind that, I can get behind that.”

He nods. “If you can, I can.”

But he also steps closer to me, his body eating up some of my personal space, even though I don’t think that’s his intention. And we both just kind of stand there, in the middle of his office, unsure of where to go from here.

“So…it’s settled, then?” I eventually ask, and he examines my eyes.

“Yeah. I think so, right? It’s settled.”

“Right. It’s for the best.”

He nods again. “Definitely for the best.”

“For sure.”

It’s not lost on me how idiotic we both sound. Like two newly built AI robots trying to have a conversation that’s based on software that only holds about ten flipping phrases and lots of fucking head nods.

“It’s eventually not going to be this awkward, right?”

His question makes a soft laugh pop from my throat. “Goodness, I hope not.”

But then I look up into his steady gaze again, and the way his blue eyes smile down at me urges a flash of memories to flood my mind—dancing with him at Orchid, talking to him about Tolstoy in the hallway, the way his eyes would lightup mischievously when he’d hide my panties somewhere he’d know I’d find them.

So many visuals float around inside my head, and there’s a teeny-tiny part of me that thinks it’s a damn shame that I’ll neverreallyget to experience all the things I’ve been constantly fantasizing about when it comes to him.

You’ll never get to see what Ty looks like without his clothes on.

Or what it feels like to have his weight above you and his cock filling you to the hilt.

You’ll never know what he looks and feels like when he comes.

“So…” He pauses. “Do we make it official?”

I blink. “Official?”

“Shake on it?” he asks. But when it’s apparent I’m a little slow on the uptake, he adds, “You know, a good old-fashioned handshake to really certify this agreement.”

“Oh.” My teeth dig into my bottom lip, and I watch as he holds out his hand toward me, signaling that we are, in fact, about toshake on it.

But something happens.

I don’t know how exactly, but the only way I can explain it is to describe what must be an out-of-body experience. You know, when you’re in the room, but you’re not physically in your body? You’re just kind of hovering above it, watching yourself do things that you definitely don’t think you intended to do?

Needless to say,that’sthe something that happens.

From above my body, I watch myself lift my hand, but instead of grabbing Ty’s hand, my hand somehow ends up somewhere else…much lower than his hand.

And directly on his black-dress-pant-covered crotch.

Holy shit. His penis is in my hand.

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