Page 22 of Hot Doggin'
He grabs my jaw, shocking the shit out of me, and leans in close like he’s gonna kiss me. “Four years, Stiles. You finally work up the nerve to kiss me and you think I’m gonna fucking share it with some chick?”
What is he saying? What the fuck is happening right now?
His fingers dig harder into my jaw. Painfully hard. “That kiss, that’s between me and you, not me you andher. That’s just forus.”
”I didn’t… things went south fast. Complete mission failure. We were outside the wire. It was only because she dared us.”
He leans back enough to look into my eyes but doesn’t let go. “Yeah? Well, now I’m daring you. Go ahead, kiss me.”
This is…“This is fucking nuts. You’re my best friend. Nobody’s kissing anybody.” I shrug out of his hold. “We should have talked about it in the truck. We should’ve set boundaries. Hell, we should have never agreed to it in the first place.”
He still looks pissed. Maybe not pissed, just intense. He rubs his cock, now tucked safely back in his pants, and I’m dying to know if he’s still hard.
“Just so you know, I would have done it.”
“Done what?” Do I really need to ask?
“Everything. Just not with her.”
CHAPTER
SEVEN
STILES
“I’m goingto clear out one of my drawers for you,” Mac offers, slipping his shirt off his shoulders.
It’s been four days, and not one word has been spoken aboutcockgate.Mac hasn’t brought it up, and Icertainlyhaven’t. Neither of us has mentioned me moving back to my apartment, either. I haven’t even called my landlord to see if the fleas are gone.
“Thanks. I’m gonna grab a shower.”
One plus about this apartment is that it has scalding hot water. I like that shit to melt the skin off my bones. Grabbing McCormick’s purple loofa, I dribble soap onto it and scrub my body until I’m covered in suds. My neglected cock begs for attention, and I soap it up and drop the sponge, grabbing my cock instead. It hardens before my eyes, just from thinking about what I’m gonna do to it.
“Just so you know, I would have done it.”I can’t stop replaying those words in my head.
My fist strokes up and down my shaft, squeezing the head with each pass. Damn, that feels good, like?—
“Did you see that hickey on Rhett’s neck in group today? He’s definitely the bottom in that relationship,” he snickers, lifting the lid on the toilet seat.
“Jesus Christ! I’m trying to shower!” He just busts up in here like I’m not naked on the other side of this paper-thin curtain.
McCormick squints at the curtain, atme. “Are you washing it or playing with it?”
Usually, I might laugh at that, but not after the week we’ve had. “Okay, tomorrow I’m getting a shower curtain that’s not see-through. Get the fuck out. Go piss in the kitchen sink.”
He flushes the toilet, knowing it’s going to make my shower run ice-cold. “That’s disgusting.”
He leaves, but now I feel so self-conscious I can’t finish jacking off, so I shut the water off and get out—wet, cold, and unsatisfied.
“Everything. Just not with her.”Will I ever stop replaying his words over and over like a broken record?
I grab a tank top and a pair of boxer shorts and join him in the living room. McCormick has a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in each hand, one for him and I assume one for me. When he rounds the kitchen counter, I realize he’s not wearing anything but his American flag boxer briefs. I swear they’re about two sizes too small. Knowing him, they were on sale and that was the last size left.
“Jesus, can’t you put some clothes on?”
He shoves the sandwich at me. “My dude, you’ve been a soldier most of your adult life. You showered with other men, bunked with other men, and suddenly, you have a problem seeing me in my skivvies?”
“Skivvies? What were you, fucking Navy?”
