Page 21 of Beautifully Conflicted

“I like mine plenty,” he grumbles. “I don’t like anyone else’s.”

“Are you sure? Have you seen one?”

“Are you deliberately ignoring what I said earlier, or do you just not understand?” His jaw visibly ticks, and stomach does a little flip.

“Which part? If you’re referring to the no talking part you mentioned at the start—again—I heard you and am ignoring it. Honestly, that’s for your benefit since you’re supposed to exercise at a level where you can carry on light conversation. Or are you talking about the dick waving part, which I still say doesn’t constitute marking your territory.”

“I’m talking about the gay part,” he says through gritted teeth. “I’m not gay, so I don’t like other people’s dicks.”

“You don’t have to be gay to appreciate a nice cock. And how you can make a decision about something you haven’t tried.”

“Fine, I’ve seen plenty in the locker room, and it’s not my thing.”

“No one looks in the locker room, that’s just wrong. And even if they did, we’re all pretty soft in there. Soft ones aren’t very interesting. They’re not bad, but a hard one is just next level, you know.”

I swear I’m not imagining the vein that throbs in his neck. The way it pulses rhythmically is like a siren song to the semi I’m trying not to think about, calling out to my dick each time it thuds beneath the skin.

Damn, I’d really like to lick it. To taste the mixture of cool air and salty sweat on his skin, maybe even leaving a little mark of my own behind. If I didn’t think he was so cold blooded that my tongue would get stuck, I’d do it. I wouldn’t mind that, but he’d probably be grouchy about it.

“No, I don’t know because I’m not gay.” That sexy growl distracts me enough that he’s spared my tongue. For now.

Jesus, one little insinuation about his sexuality from his roommate and I’m off the rails. I still have no confirmation Liam’s right about that love/hate thing, so I need to keep myself in check.

“Right, but we’ve already established you don’t have to be gay to appreciate dick,” I say, stealing a quick glance out of the corner of my eye. “You could be bi, pan, demi, even some ACE people like them.”

“Yeah, I’m aware, but I’m fully straight so,again, I don’t like anyone else’s.”

“Is that why you made a rule about no dicks?”

“Why else would I have made that rule?”

“Maybe you’re afraid. Lots of people avoid what they’re afraid of.”

A giant puff of white air bursts from his pink lips, which his tongue darts out to wet before speaking. “I’m not afraid of dicks.”

“I meant maybe you’re afraid of liking them.”

“The only thing I’m afraid of is that I’m gonna kill you before the end of this run, and then I’ll either get benched or arrested.”

“So, you’re a cat person then?”

“What?” He stares at me, openly stares, like I’ve lost my mind.

I ignore it since it’s not the first time I’ve been on the receiving end of that particular look. It comes with the territory when you have a habit of saying the first thing that comes to mind.

“I don’t think dog people are violent. Cat people though…” I shudder. “Why have an antisocial pet unless you’ve got some issues of your own?”

“Some cats are very social.” Bennet coughs and blinks his eyes erratically, like he can’t believe he responded. Technically, he’s been responding all along, but this is the first time he did it without malice, disgust, or frustration. And he stuck to the topic.

Look at us! We’re talking! Like regular people!

“I’ve never seen a social cat.” I pounce—no pun intended—on the opportunity to keep this going. “I had this friend in high school who’d always have me over after practice, and one day he asked if I’d take care of his cat while he was on vacation—"

“What does that have to do with anything?”Dammit, annoyed Bennet is back.

“I never knew he had a cat. I spent years going to his house and never saw the damn thing once.”

“What’s your point?” he huffs.

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