Page 78 of The Idiot

“Just changing the angle,” he says, sliding a knee next to my hip onto the perch.

Gripping my shoulders, he does the same with his other one. Whoa. He’s… sitting on my lap. His wet chest hair and happy trail are plastered to him. I can see his face as he reaches back and positions me. My stomach flips at the intensity in his eyes as he seats himself on me. That whole PrEP conversation we had last week and how we don’t need condoms because of what he takes has me grateful when I feel the return of flesh to flesh. Being inside him without a barrier is a whole other level of proximity, especially facing me.

As always, some instinct tells me this should be strange because it’s Murph and me. Not because he’s a guy—I don’t think that part ever felt off to me, to be honest. But Murph… bouncing on my lap and groaning while I grip two handfuls of his ass—it’s not weirding me out, but it kind of terrifies me. I don’t know if it’s this intimate position or because we both get so into our exploring. Each time we mess around, it feels like I lose control of my soul and hand a piece of it over to him.

I feel like I need him in ways I never have before. I’m scared that he’ll see written all over my face how overpowering those needs are becoming.

So, I do what I do best when I’m uncomfortable—make light of things.

“Thank God we never did this in high school. We’d have never graduated.”

His belly laugh has my balls vibrating. “I don’t think Marianne Gregor would have liked it either.”

Scoffing, I twinge at the thought of my high school ex. I can’t believe he remembers her. That was ages ago.

“No kidding. She couldn’t stand how much I missed you when you left for the army, so I cut her loose.”

His hips stop gyrating, slamming the brakes on my build up. “What?” he asks, gaping at me.

Crap. That probably made me sound like a pathetic teenager who couldn’t survive without his best friend.

“I thought she broke up with you? You never told me that.”

I hope my face only feels red from the steam in my shower. Anxiously, I shift my fingers where I’m gripping his hip and feel his moles. “If, uh, you’re more interested in my childhood dating history than what we’re doing, we need to try something different.”

His mouth ticks up on a silent puff of laughter, dissolving the anxious lump in my throat. Good. Awkward moment averted.

Grabbing my face, he pours everything he has into kissing me until I think I might pass out. I claw at his back with each rock of his hips. Damn, he’s good at this. I hate that him being good at it means he’s had practice, but tell myself it must be the sex pheromones flooding me with the stupid, jealous thought.

“Missed me, huh?” he rasps, sucking on my earlobe.

It’s all pained and breathy, telling me he’s close. His cock feels like granite, sliding up and down my abs. Reaching between us, I’m desperate to feel that clenching thing his body does when he comes.

“Maybe,” I concede, giving him a tight stroke. “There was no one else around to give me shit the way you did.”

The sound he makes is half laugh, half groan as I feel him spasm around my cock and spill into my grip. I’m still in awe that our bodies are capable of doing that. The little tremors hugging my length send me over the edge. I have to pinch my eyes shut at the overwhelming rush of relief and bliss as his channel milks me.

When he climbs off me, I lean against him while the spray rinses us off. I could stand like this forever in his arms, swaddling me like a blanket. His post-sex kisses make their way to my mouth. They seem to go on forever. Tender brushes, gentle sucks, delicate sweeps of his tongue—it’s his cuddle ritual that I always enjoy, but today it has me going lightheaded to the point I don’t think I can breathe. It’s so all-consuming it has that fear of losing myself spiking again.

Drawing back, I brush the water off my face and flash him a smile. “I better get out. I’ve got to pick some things up for my mom’s Thanksgiving prep tomorrow. I need snacks if I’m going to be over there all day. That woman is greedy with the samples now that she’s training Cam.”

“All day?” He steps out behind me and takes the towel I offer him.

“Yeah. She’s making a big deal about it this year, since it’s Cameron’s first holiday with us.”

“Oh.”

“What’s with the sad face?” I laugh, slipping into clean boxers and trying not to ogle him.

“I just thought maybe we could do something.”

“Your mom said you guys are driving up to see your sister, though. Right?”

“Um, no. Well, she is. I bowed out. I’m just going to stick around home.” Running his hand down his beard, he doesn’t look at me. “I thought maybe that’d give us some more privacy to… spend time together.”

He’s skipping his Thanksgiving for me? My pulse skitters and my heart feels like it’s in my throat. I’m suddenly all warm from head to toe, despite the chill after getting out of the shower.

“Oh,” is all I can manage.

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