“You’re for reals heading out?” I ask, staring at him, a pillow over my lap. Because that’s not obvious at all.
He glances down at it and then stares at the door. “Yes.”
And then he’s gone, the door closing with a loud thump.
I remove the pillow and stare at my crotch in apology.
Well, hell, what am I supposed to do now?
CHAPTERFOUR
Ispend the night tossing and turning in bed, and when I wake up, it's Friday, and I’m in a foul mood. Mainly because I was hard most of the night but refused to jack off. While I’ve come to terms with the fact that I enjoy cuddling with another manandholding hands, making myself cum to thoughts of Whit was just a little too queer for me.
So, I refused.
But shit, I’m tired right now. And horny. And just miserable in general because Whit didn’t come home last night. Now, I’m wondering if he was really just studying or if he was out fucking someone.
I should have been out fucking someone, but I stayed home like a loser. Fighting my aggravating erection and trying not to think of Whit’s lips next to mine.
What is it about this guy that makes me crazy?
And how the hell am I supposed to spend the weekend with him when I feel like this?
Oh shit, now I’m hard again.
I press the palm of my hand against my straining cock and will it to go away, but it doesn’t. It just gets harder.
“Well, hell,” I mutter as I pull on my pants.
Maybe some fresh air will get it to go down. It’s definitely more of an introvert. Displaying itself in public isn’t something it enjoys.
I tug on my sweatshirt and a beanie, open the front door to leave and nearly barrel into Whit, who’s just coming home.
He looks rumpled, like he spent the nightnotsleeping, and I resist the urge to ask.
Because I donotwant to know, nor do I need to.
Shit.
I want to know.
“Heading out,” I mutter as I quickly push past him.
“Okay,” I hear as I disappear down the hallway and head to my Jeep.
I sit in the parking lot for a few minutes, debating where I should go to clear my head and decide to go to the local coffee shop. Thankfully, by the time I arrive, my cock is flaccid.
I order a large mocha with extra whipped cream and sit next to the window, scrolling through my phone, when a text pops up.
Whit: When will we leave today?
Oh shit.
Ishouldrespond, but I don’t.
I’ll text him later.
This isnotme being passive-aggressive. I’m momentarily putting this entire weekend on hold because just thinking of him spending a few days with me is making my cock twitch in my pants. This whole thing is getting uncomfortable.