Page 51 of Knock Knock

Was there a traits list, similar to the kink list in his pocket, that would be a bible about how to be in a relationship? I didn’t know, but when Xavi kept playing with my fingers, leaning against me, being all up in my space with no shame about it, I thought maybe it didn’t matter.

Connection was everything, and we had that in spades.

* * *

“Honestly,I think this is better than our real shower,” I said, admiring our handiwork.

We’d stolen a ton of pallets, managed to make three walls out of them to create a stall, hung the shower head and even connected it to a black hose that ran across the roof to heat the water with the sun, and hung the curtain on the open side. Our outdoor shower was complete.

“Do you think she’ll like it?” Xavi asked. “I mean, I’m super impressed, but will it insult her?”

Karen was dirty. All the time. Smelled a bit ripe, too. She said that by the time the other girls got through their two-minute showers, there was no hot water left for her. But we figured that was a lie. Karen didn’t give a shit about hot water, especially with how hot it had been outside lately. She was scared to shower there, and we didn’t know if that was because of her own insecurities or if she felt unsafe being naked. Xavi tried to pry but didn’t get a clear answer from her.

“Either way, we like it.” I laughed. “I think she’ll like it.”

“And we can take it apart and bring it with us when we move,” Xavi said.

I looked at him, something tightening in my chest. It was a different kind of tightening to the plastic coating we just added to the wooden pallets. It wasn’t a constriction, but rather a cozy wrap right around my heart or some craziness like that.

“Are we moving?”

Xavi grinned, leaned his bare chest against mine, and licked my lips. “You fucking know we are, Nate. You want out of the storage room and back into Garron Park so you can protect that kid, and wherever you go, I go.”

Spreading my hands over his lower back and letting them cop-a-feel all the way up to his shoulders, I kept my lips against his, not kissing, but notnotkissing. “I’m not the best person to follow.”

“Bullshit,” he whispered, hands on my hips. “Even when you lead me astray, we always have a good time.”

“That’s because we’re together.”

“Exactly,” he said, matter of fact. “Which is the only sign I need to know you’re my person. I’ll fucking follow you anywhere, Nathan Neegan.”

That cozy wrap around my heart got too warm with that confession, so I reached up, threading my fingers into his hair. Just when he thought I was going to kiss him, I tugged his head back. “You still all bottomy?”

“Fuck yes.”

“Then let's cross that line.” I pressed my lips to his and then tried to force him inside.

Xavi might have claimed he’d follow me anywhere, but not today. He grinned at me, a sinister, sexy thing that perked up my dick and made my throat dry. “Yes. Let’s.” He wrapped his arms around me from behind and steered me inside.

Confidence was something that came naturally to me when around my best friend, but nerves swept through me anyway. The apartment was quiet compared to outside, the rush of my blood drowning out the sound of anything else. Until Xavi spoke.

“You’re nervous,” he accused, his voice huskier than usual.

Damn right I was nervous. “Excited-nervous,” I said, looking him straight in the eye. “Don’t laugh this off, Xavi. We’re about to fuck.”

He grinned, eyelashes fanning across his cheeks as he looked down. His hand trailed down my stomach, fingers catching on my waistband before he rubbed me through my shorts. “Why haven’t you been smoking?” he asked randomly.

I swallowed desire and squinted at him in confusion. “My lighter died.”

“Did it?” he mused, hand rubbing, lashes still fanning, bare chest starting to heave.

No, not completely. It still sparked when it needed to. Fifty percent reliable, just like my truck. “Yeah.”

Xavi grabbed the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my head. My hands lifted, and when they dropped, they touched him. Explored the way his abs dipped, and his ribs stuck out with every breath and subtle movement.

“You know what I think?” he asked, fingers on my jaw, thumb swiping my bottom lip. I panted like a junkie, desperate for a hit of him. “You haven’t gone to buy more. You’re weed whacking to cope. Your lighter isn’t dead.” His thumb released my lip, trailing down my chin and the column of my throat.

“So?” I asked, back hitting the patio door when my balance faltered.

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