Page 48 of Filthy Sweet

Fox grins. “I like to take my time,” he says evenly. He glances at Reggie, then reaches across the table to take my hand. “And hey, anytime you want to talk about what we’re doing, just let me know, okay? This is only fun for me if it’s fun for you, too.”

“After we talk to Reggie,” I say. “We should probably talk more then.”

“Agreed.”

I bite my lip. “I guess I do have one question. Do we still sleep with other people?”

Fox blinks. I think he’s caught off guard for once, and when he talks, his voice comes out strained. “I guess you should, right? But I’m satisfied holding off.”

Relief washes over me. “I don’t need to see other people,” I say quickly. “Simpler sounds more fun.”

Fox’s grin returns. He squeezes my hand once, then lets it go. “Cool,” is all he says, but I hear the satisfaction in his voice.

The sex is going to be casual, but that doesn’t mean we can’t like each other. And even though this isn’t exactly what I would have wanted with Fox, it still feels like the best thing for me.

The only thing for me, really. A way to build my confidence, learn about myself, and all with someone who makes me feel safe and sexy and fun.

As we keep smiling, the concert pounding around us, the charge of our connection smolders.

I lick my bottom lip, then give Fox a slight pout as I take a long sip of the cocktail he bought me. His smile grows wolfish as he appreciates me, and after I lower my glass, I get a whim and pull out the cherry, then drag it across my lips.

Fox tenses. I can feel the effect I’m having on him. It’s forbidden, risky. I want to give in to the temptation, but with Reggie dancing by the stage, I know we’ve already gone too far.

Not tonight, I remind myself, so I pop the cherry in my mouth instead.

* * *

FOX

Maybe I’m an asshole.

That would explain why I’m sitting here, thinking filthy thoughts about my best friend’s little brother while Reggie dances nearby, blithely unaware.

Owen is going to talk to Reggie, and then we won’t have to act like this anymore. But as soon as he and I finish our mature, rational discussion about the parameters of hooking up, I watch the sweet smile grow on his face, and I get an overpowering urge to shove my fingers in his mouth and feel his tongue.

He’s so fucking sweet and good, and the best I can do is to mumble something about not fucking other people and then brainstorm some new ways to defile him.

Growing up, everyone in town said they couldn’t trust my family. I’ve always told myself I’m different, better than the rest of them, and that I wouldn’t betray someone I cared about.

Fucking hell, though. Maybe I really am just another piece of shit Wilder boy, considering I’m hiding a pretty major truth from my best friend right now. It’s probably for the best that Owen and I are staying casual. I’d fuck up anything more.

I swallow and lean forward, determined to hold my composure even with a wet spot growing in my boxers. “What were you researching?”

“Huh?” Owen asks, raising his voice over the howling music.

“You said you were doing research earlier. What were you researching?”

“Oh.” Owen smiles, glad I asked. “Grey whales and rufous hummingbirds.”

“Migrating animals?”

“The grey whales go ten thousand miles, which is amazing. But the hummingbirds are so tiny, and they travel four thousand.” He shrugs. “I don’t know. I was thinking about the biggest migrators and the smallest ones. It’s dorky, but I thought that might be a fun to way to brainstorm ideas.”

I smile, pleased to have the distraction. “I like that.” I lean back and cross my arms. “Why would those little birds travel so far?”

“They hang out in Mexico usually. But they fly up here and further north, to Alaska, for breeding.”

“To fuck?”

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