27. Seth
Seth
“Are you trying to make me look bad?” Kaden says, breaking the silence. His voice is low and a little raspy.
“What do you mean?” I ask against his shoulder. I haven’t moved in minutes. I’m not sure my legs would carry me if I tried, and I like it here. It’s warm, and it smells like Kaden.
“You’re doing all the work.”
I snort a lazy laugh, pulling my head up to look at him. His lips are puffy, and his cheeks flushed. His hair’s a little messy, and he peeks at me with one eye. The other’s closed, as if he can’t decide if he should stay awake or fall asleep right where he stands.
“You’re new to this,” I say, squinting at him.
He snorts. “I’m not a virgin, Seth.”
“You’re a gay virgin,” I say, tilting my head to the side. And then I remember that Kaden’s standing naked in front of me, so I let my eyes roam over him.
His chest and arms are covered in tattoos, as is his neck. He’s got a big piece covering most of his right leg, while the other is left untouched. And his stomach is all abs, and that fucking V pointing down to his—
“You done?” he teases, and my gaze darts up to his. He’s holding back a smile. Almost looks a little shy, which is insane because if I looked like that, you couldn’t pay me to ever put clothes on.
“I mean…” I say, gesturing at him. “You’re like the sixteenth chap—”
“Sistine Chapel,” he corrects me.
I frown at him. “I’m giving you a compliment, and you cut me off to correct me? What asshole move is that?”
“It’s not a compliment if you’re comparing me to something that doesn’t exist.”
I squint at him. “But you knew what I meant.”
“Which is why I corrected you.”
I scoff. “Are you always this anal after sex?”
“I’m always this anal, yes.” He nods again, biting his lip to hold back a smile. Fuck, he’s hot. And he’s naked. In my bedroom!
“If we weren’t still naked, I’d throttle you right now,” I say, walking towards the bathroom connected to my bedroom.
“As if you could take me.” I hear him laugh as I grab a towel and rinse it. I wipe myself down, walking back out.
“What? You think I can’t take you? Bitch, please,” I say, handing him the towel.
“Are you serious?” he says, wiping himself down before putting on his boxers.
I pull out my drawer, grab a pair of Calvin’s and throw them on.
“What? You seriously don’t think I could take you?” I take the towel from him, hanging it over the door.
“I trained in kickboxing for eight years and I work out four days a week. When was the last time you saw the inside of a gym?” He frowns. “Also, you’re shorter than me.”
“By an inch!” I lie.
“Dude, I could probably lift you without breaking a sweat.”
“You can’t fucking lift me.”
“You wanna bet?” he asks, taking a step towards me.
“No,” I say, taking a step back. I lick my top lip, knowing full fucking well he probably could. And that I’d love it.
Oh, how I’d love it.
“’Cause I’d hate to see you lose,” I add with a flick of my head.
“You’re so full of shit,” he says, laughing.
“Actually, I’m not,” I say, hands on my hips. “Because I douche.”
“You what?”
“Exactly! You gay virgin.”