Chapter 6 #2
His lips quirked up in a small smile. “Right. Research.”
“I’m very thorough.”
“I noticed,” he said dryly, glancing down at the tissues in the trash. “But we should probably get ready for dinner.”
I glanced at the clock on his nightstand. Shit, we needed to get a move on or we wouldn’t be fashionably late, we’d be tragically tardy. “Time flies when you’re having fun, huh, snookums?”
He shoved me at the nickname. “Don’t start that shit again. And for the love of all that’s holy, put some damn clothes on before my mom comes barging in here,” he said, as if he hadn’t locked the door as soon as we entered.
“Afraid she’ll be jealous of what you get to enjoy?” I teased, flexing dramatically.
“More like terrified she’ll whip out her planner and start mapping out our wedding on the spot,” he complained.
“Would that be so terrible?”
“With my mother involved? Absolutely.” He shook his head, but his smile remained. “Now, seriously, get dressed. I’m not explaining to my family why you’re naked in my bed.”
“Fine, fine.” I stood up, making no effort to cover myself as I stretched with a satisfied moan. “Consider this a sneak peek of what you’re missing out on by insisting this is only pretend.”
His eyes tracked my every move before he caught himself and looked away. “You’re impossible.”
“Yet here you are, looking like you want to lick every inch of me.”
“I do not—” He stopped protesting when he saw my knowing smirk. “Go put on some pants, Harley.”
I laughed at his exasperation and grabbed my discarded clothes from the floor. “You know, for a straight guy, you give a pretty decent hand job.”
“Oh my god, stop,” Ryker groaned. “Are you physically incapable of not making everything awkward?”
“It’s my superpower,” I replied cheerfully, stepping into my briefs. “Besides, what’s awkward about complimenting your technique? I’m being a supportive friend.”
His flushed cheeks charmed me. “We’re not discussing technique.”
“Why not? I’m happy to offer pointers.” I pulled on my jeans, buttoning them up before reaching for my shirt. “That little twist thing you did at the end? Solid move. Eight out of ten.”
“Only eight?” Ryker asked indignantly before he could stop himself, then immediately looked mortified.
I burst out laughing. “Look at you, fishing for compliments! Fine, nine out of ten. You lose a point for overthinking it.”
“I wasn’t,” he argued, sliding on his boxers. “I was being careful.”
“Is that what we’re calling it? Careful?” I snorted. “Were worried about breaking my dick or something?”
He threw a pillow at me, which I caught. “It’s too fucking big. Most of us have normal human hands, you know.”
“No such thing. Despite your grumbling, here you are, looking thoroughly satisfied after I made you come.” I buttoned up my shirt. “Twice today, if we’re keeping score.”
“What do you mean, twice?” Ryker demanded, scrambling for his jeans.
He’d taken the bait as I’d hoped. “Oh, did I say that out loud? My bad.”
“Harley.” His tone dripped with a warning note, which fueled my desire to tease him more as he wrestled with his pants.
My grin widened. “Now, and when I heard you during your little solo performance in your room before we came here.”
The color drained from his face, then rushed back with a vengeance. “You did not.”
“Oh, but I did. Our walls are as thin as your excuses, and you’re not exactly quiet when you’re about to blow.”
“Someone kill me now.” Mortification radiated off him.
“Don’t worry, I found it incredibly hot.” Teasing him was too much fun. “Those little gasps you make right before you come? Fucking sexy.”
Ryker groaned. “I hate you so much.” His cheeks burned crimson as he shot daggers at me. “You’re the worst.”
“That’s not what you were moaning when I had my fingers around your cock.”
With a frustrated mutter and some choice curses, he threw on his shirt.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” I said, softening my tone. “It’s perfectly normal to jerk off while fantasizing about your incredibly hot roommate who’s pretending to be your boyfriend.”
“I wasn’t—” He threw his hands up in exasperation. “Fine. Whatever. Can we drop it?”
“Were you worried you’d be too tempted by your fake boyfriend if you didn’t take the edge off first?” I teased, enjoying the way his ears turned beet red at the suggestion.
He fiddled with the hem of his T-shirt. “Stop being a brat.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I’m still in the lead.”
His baffled expression was adorable. “What are you talking about?”
“I came while listening to you masturbate this morning. Then again in the shower before we left, reminiscing about how hot it was and fantasizing about being your faux boyfriend. And of course, just now.”
His mouth opened and closed a few times before he formed words. “You what?”
“You heard me.” I shrugged, unrepentant. “Probably literally, since the wall’s more of a two-way street than a one-way alley. You must know you’ve been the star of my fantasies for years.”
“We’re not keeping score,” he insisted, but I could see a hint of a smile playing at his lips.
“Only because I’m winning with three orgasms to your two.”
He rolled his eyes. “Congratulations on your gold medal in the Sexual Olympics.”
“Thank you, thank you.” I took a theatrical bow. “I’d like to thank my high sex drive and, of course, my straight best friend, who seems to be a little less straight than he’d like to believe.”
“I’m going to murder you,” he threatened, though it was clear he was battling a chuckle.
“No, you won’t,” I retorted. “You’d miss me too much. Who else would make you come twice in one day?”
He threw his hands up in frustration. “Can you please focus? We need to get ready for dinner.”
“I am focused,” I protested. “Very focused on the fact that you got off thinking about me this morning and while I was touching you.”
He scowled. “I never said that.”
“You didn’t deny it either.” I pushed more of his buttons for the fun of it. “Want to know what I was specifically picturing when I came in the shower?”
He hesitated, curiosity warring with self-preservation on his face. Curiosity won. “What?”
“How you’d look on your knees in front of me. Your pretty gray eyes gazing up at me while I teach you exactly how to use that smart mouth of yours for ultimate pleasure.”
I watched his throat work as he swallowed. “Harley…”
“Or maybe how it would feel to bend you over the bathroom counter,” I continued, stepping closer. “Watching your face in the mirror as I open you up with my fingers, nice and slow, until you’re begging for more.”
“You have to stop.”
“Too much?” I asked, genuinely curious if I’d crossed a line.
He shook his head, then nodded, then shook his head again. “I don’t know. It’s a lot.”
“Good ‘a lot’ or bad ‘a lot’?”
“I don’t know that either. This is all new to me, okay? I never expected I would ever be…”
“Into guys?” I guessed.
“Yeah.” He looked relieved I’d said it for him.
I closed the distance between us. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re handling a sexual identity crisis like a champ.”
He snorted in amusement. “Is that what this is?”
“Well, you did just get off with another guy, so yeah, I’d say there’s some sexuality questioning happening.” I smoothed my hands over his shoulders, letting them rest there. “But it doesn’t have to be a crisis. Think of it as a delightful detour.”
His eyes searched mine, vulnerability evident in their depths. “And if I don’t know what I want to explore?”
“Then we take it slow. No pressure. We stick to the fake boyfriend plan and see where the road takes us.”
“Even though you’ve been waiting three years for me to give in to you?” he asked skeptically.
I shrugged, trying to mask the way my heart fluttered at his insight. “What’s a little longer? Besides, anticipation is half the fun, right?”
He studied my face for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. Slow.”
“Slow,” I agreed, even as every fiber of my being wanted to push him back onto the bed and demonstrate how not-straight he could be. “Now, let’s finish getting ready before your mom sends a search party.”
He glanced at the clock and winced. “Shit, we’re already late.”
“Totally worth it,” I said with a snicker. When our eyes met, he didn’t glance away immediately like he would have before. Instead, he held my gaze, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
“What?” I asked, smoothing down my shirt.
“Nothing. But this is weird, right? Good weird, but still weird.”
I snickered. “Ryker, we crossed ‘weird’ the moment you asked me to be your fake boyfriend right after watching me get blown by another guy. We’re in uncharted territory now.”
“Fair enough.” He took a steadying breath. “Ready?”
“For dinner with your family while pretending to be madly in love with you?” I grinned, reaching out to take his hand. “Absolutely.”
His fingers tensed before relaxing into mine. “Please try to behave, okay? My mom’s going to be unbearable enough without you adding fuel to the fire.”
“Me? Misbehave?” I feigned mock offense. “I would never!”
“Right, and I’m secretly a unicorn.”
“Well, you are magical in bed,” I teased, squeezing his hand.
He groaned. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. No sex jokes at the dinner table.”
“But I didn’t even make a joke about your horn yet.” When he shot me a look, I held my hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll save those for when we’re alone. But I make no promises about keeping my hands to myself. Gotta sell the boyfriend experience, after all.”
“Only moderate PDA,” he warned as he let go of me. “Nothing that would make my dad uncomfortable.”
“Got it. No blowing you under the table while Sawyer passes the garlic bread.”
“Harley!” He glanced around frantically, as if anyone was close enough to have heard.
I laughed at his theatrics. “Relax. I’m kidding. Mostly. I promise I’ll limit myself to feeding you bites of food, calling you every pet name in the book, and reminiscing about our first date with tears streaming down my cheeks.”