Page 51 of Take 2
“I will cut that hand off,” I threaten.
“But imagine all the pleasure he will not be able to give you if he loses his hand,” my idiotic best friend says.
“There was no hand pleasuring.”
“That sounds like hands would be getting pleasured,” Preston says.
I press my phone to my chest. “Correct my grammar again, and I’ll cut off a body part you care about way more.” Back into the phone, I say, “Babe, we kissed, but—”
“I’m sorry, are you talking to me or Preston? Not sure who you’re calling ‘babe,’ now.”
“James, darling, Preston and I have not had sex.”
“But you’re going to?”
From my position molded to his bare chest, it seems like a stupid thing to deny. “It kind of looks that way.”
James clicks his tongue. “So, he’s a good kisser?”
“Good enough that sex seems inevitable.”
Preston props himself up on his elbow to shoot me a look so incredulous it cuts through the darkness. I guess this is an unfortunate way to wake up next to each other for the first time.
“Wines-day is going to be so good when you get back.”
“Goodbye!”
“Congratulations on the impending end to your dry streak.”
I end the call and sink into the pillow.
“Does he really need details?” Preston is still propped up, looking at me like I’m insane.
“Don’t care if weneedto share things like that. We do it anyway. Would you rather it have been when you weren’t around to hear what I said about you?”
He considers a moment, settling back onto the pillow. “I guess not.”
“And anyway, I said you were good.” I nuzzle into his neck, and he rubs my back. I missed cuddling.
“Do you tell himeverything?”
I blink a few times. “No.”
He makes a low sound in his throat likehmmand combs his fingers through my hair.
“Can we please go back to sleep?” I ask.
“Mhmm.” He kisses the top of my head, and we fall back into companionable silence.
When I wake up again, I’m alone. Sunlight glows at the edges of the curtains. The pillow is soft, but it’s not what I want to have my arms wrapped around.
I roll onto my stomach, and the ghost of Preston’s touch skims down my back. My glutes contract, pressing my hips against the bed. There were reasons not to have sex last night, but I don’t remember what they were. I wanted him … so badly. I still want him. The buzzing in my nerves makes my hips squirm, and my feet rub against each other.
It’s going to be torture to be around him today.
What are we even doing? We kissed twice and slept in each other’s armsclothed.James’ theory is much simpler. Hate-sex wouldn’t be as complicated as all this worrying about feelings crap. We could let our bodies take over and get what we both want.
I wonder how badly he needs it. My desire is enough to draw my hand down into my underwear. The way his tongue stroked mine replays in my mind, and I imagine what he would do between my legs. My hips circle at that thought more than from what my fingers are doing.
