Page 74 of Play With Me
I may be gay.
Bisexual? Pan? No clue. I just know I like this guy on my lap.
We spend the rest of the day inseparable.
After a family inquisition around the kitchen island, my mom discreetly hands me a list of things she’d like me to work on outside. I stare down at the note.
The damn vine again. Rip it out like you love your mother.
I sigh and move outside, hearing Colton offering to help. My mom insists he doesn’t need to move a muscle, but he follows me to the shed anyway.
I can feel his eyes on my ass, on my lower back, and I can’t help but ruck up my shirt and drag my shorts down slightly so he can get a better view.
“Fucking tease,” he murmurs. Yeah, I fucking am. But when we get to the shed, he peels his shirt off over his head, and I have to chug water because my throat is so damn dry at the sight.
Those tattoos, the muscles on his abdomen. Each one pops out with a flex, and I wheeze loudly.
How did I not realize that the reason I couldn’t look away at that party was because he was so fucking hot?
There was no other explanation than that.
I was obsessed even then.
“This weed keeps coming back?” Colton asks, pulling me from my thoughts, his gaze landing on the snaking vines moving up the fence. They’ve come back full force. Maybe it’s witchcraft.
“Yeah, we don’t know how the damn thing survives. But it’s the cockroach of plants. I dig it out, and two weeks later, it’s back looking like this.”
He runs a hand over his face and then kneels down, his face right near my cock. It perks up at the sight, but Colton doesn’t look its way. Instead, he sinks his fingers into the soil and pulls at the roots.
“Sounds like someone is planting this. Or at least fertilizing it.”
“What? Who would do that? That’s weird.”
“It is, but there’s no reason it should be coming back as often as you say it does. Maybe your mom is growing it on purpose to get you home?”
My mouth drops open, and I stare down at him.
“Why would she do that?”
“Dunno,” he says, standing up and brushing his palms on his pants. “Maybe she just wants you to feel useful when you come home, or she wants an excuse to get you here.”
That makes my heart twist. Fuck, is that really what it is? She has to know I’d come home anytime. I mean, I could visit more often, but still.
The whole idea is wild to me and something I need to ask her when I have a chance.
But I don’t get one, not right away. When we’re done pulling the vine, my mom calls us over for lunch, a spread of food on the small patio table. She’s showing off her culinary skills to Colton, and I’m so incredibly proud of her. When he compliments her on how good everything tastes, it makes me like him ten times more.
This is getting dangerous. So much is at risk.
My heart, my fucking mind.
Everything is on the line.
Colton is oblivious, just spreads his legs as he leans back against the lounge chair, and then points between them.
“Fuck off.”
“Come here, Myles.”
