But I won’t. I have more self-control than that. I always have control around Caleb… most of the time.
He’s chanting my name now, and I feel like a god. It’s disconcerting.
I run my free hand over his muscular abdomen, feeling those muscles flex under my fingers. I tell myself that all this muscle is uncivilized, but I like it.
I want to spend the rest of the night mapping the ridges and grooves of his body.
It’s a work of art.
Caleb’s panting and arching his hips up into my hand, and then he’s coming, his seed warm against my fingers.
“Holy shit. How is this still so damn good?” he asks me.
And I rub my fingers together, feeling his release between them, and then force myself off the bed. It’s that, or I’ll do something I shouldn’t. This arrangement, whatever it is, is already precarious as it is.
I need to end this.
I will, as soon as we get back to the apartment. I’ll tell Caleb that this cannot happen anymore.
And then, in a matter of months, I’ll never see him again.
I should feel relieved that I have a plan, but when I slide back into bed with Caleb, and he scoots over to me, wrapping himself around me, I feel….
Melancholy.
CHAPTERSEVEN
Idon’t know if there is anything better than having Whit wrapped around me. His thighs are pressed against mine, his hands clutching my chest, his face pressed into my shoulders.
I need to ride ATVs with him more often. Or maybe I’ll buy a motorcycle and take him for rides.
“You good, man?” I shout as I maneuver us down a long hill.
His hands clutch me tighter in response, and I laugh loudly. This was the best idea my cousins had all day.
Luke and Sem are ahead of us as we traverse the hilly terrain. In the distance, I can make out a large water tower and some electrical poles.
I rev the engine, and we barrel up to the top of a hill, the tires spinning for a moment before we crest the top, and I stop abruptly.
“Why are we stopping?” Whit asks, and I turn to face him. His hair is wind-swept, eyes sparkling, and our lips nearly touch. I can feel his breath against my mouth, and I meet his dark gaze.
“Why you lookin’ at me like that?” I ask.
Whit licks his lips. “I’m not looking at you in any particular way.”
“Yeah, you are,” I say softly. “Thought I wasn’t your type.”
“You’re not,” he replies, but his eyes flick down to my lips, and I can’t help but wet them. Because I think kissing Whit would be life-changing.
But before I can close the distance, Sem whoops loudly and flies through the air on his ATV. He actually lifts his legs off the back of the machine like some kind of stunt devil, and Whit watches him with raised eyebrows.
“He should be wearing a helmet,” Whit utters, and I laugh loudly.
“Probably. Not wearing one explains a lot, actually,” I reply and then ask, “Wanna drive?”
Whit shakes his head. “I think it’s best if you do this.”
“You sayin’ I’m better than you at something?” I ask.