Chapter 14
Roo
Tanner hasn’t said a thing. Not a single thing about this big bi revelation. I want to ask him where his head is at, but I’ve also promised myself I’m not going to pry.
Nope. This is for him to figure out on his own.
Why is it so fucking hard?
I don’t meddle. I don’t stick my nose in other people’s business, because I hate when they do that to me. Yet here I am, obsessively focused on one aspect about my best friend, and I kind of hate myself for it.
Only kind of, though.
The rest of me is preoccupied with how to tip his dick-o’-meter from maybe to definitely.
“Can you fill the tray again?” Tanner asks, gesturing toward the can of paint in the corner. His face is relaxed as he rolls a coat on the walls, and I can’t detect any life-changing battles going on inside his head.
This stupid hope won’t turn off.
I try not to grumble as I do as Tanner asked. We’re spending another Saturday helping, and this week we’re painting the spare room at the Harveys’ place, so it’s ready for when Rowan gets back. I can think of a billion other things I’d rather be doing.
I watch the way Tanner’s back flexes under his T-shirt as he works, and … okay, maybe this isn’t so bad.
I set some music on my phone to at least break up the quiet, and go back to painting the edges.
“You’re doing good,” Tanner says.
You know what else is good? My dick.
I hold back my smile. “Not a compliment. Unlike you, I give zero shits about helping people.”
“I’m confident I’ll rub off on you.”
Literally? Please.
Mmm … Tanner’s big body grinding against mine probably isn’t the smartest thing to be thinking about right now.
“Why do they even need this room painted?” I ask, trying to change the subject. “Rowan’s a grown-ass man. I highly doubt he gives a shit what color the room is.”
“I think it’s sweet that his parents want to do this for him. Sometimes it’s nice to do something for the people you love.”
Like give them head?
Shit, this is becoming a problem.
Fuck it.
I finish the line I’m painting, drop the brush in the tray, and crowd in close behind Tanner. “My back’s sore,” I whine.
“That’s because you’re not used to doing anything physical.”
“Then why are you torturing me?” I hold my breath a little as I slide my hands around his front and bring them to a rest over his abs.
Tanner’s roller slips, sending a streak of gray paint over the previously mint-colored wall, but he corrects it quickly. His back expands with a deep breath, and I smile into his shoulder, hoping that being this close to me is making his body react the way mine is.
“We’re nearly finished.”
I love how rough his voice has gone. He sounds the way he did when we danced together at the club, and the feel of him hard against my leg has been hot-as-hell jerk-off material. But I really need more.
“Fine, then.” I pull away, pretending he’s convinced me, when all I really want is to catch a glimpse of his crotch.
Unfortunately for me, his pants and this angle are doing a good job of hiding anything. Meanwhile, I’m still fucking hard. Teasing’s no fun when you only end up teasing yourself.
We spend the rest of the day hanging out at home, cleaning, then cooking dinner, with me stealing touches whenever I’m close enough. It’s almost like a game to see what I can get away with, and I swear I’m not imagining the way Tanner does it right back.
I’m counting down the minutes until Tanner leaves for work at the bar because I need to get off.
The second he’s out the front door, I flop back on the couch, shove down my pants, and jerk myself until I have no energy left for more.
It’s barely a Band-Aid solution to my real problem.
I want him so bad.
I’m desperate to strip him down and trace the lines of every muscle with my tongue.
I want to feel his naked body flush with mine while I hold him close.
And more than anything, I want to drive him wild, and make him feel good, and pleasure him until he can’t remember his own name.
At some point during the night, I drag my ass into bed and fall asleep surrounded by Tanner’s woodsy scent.
I’m too restless to sleep for long, and I’m up and down so much that I hear the moment Tanner gets home from work. It’s already past two, which means he must have stuck around for an hour after he finished.
I sit up as he enters the bedroom, and he jumps a foot in the air.
“Shit, Roo. What’s got you awake at this time?”
I’m so sexually frustrated, I can’t sleep.
“No reason.”
Tanner strips out of his clothes and climbs under the covers in his briefs. I don’t know how the fuck he’s so impervious to the cold, but I’m wearing sleep pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt, and I’m still freezing my balls off.
Until he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me in close.
My eyes shoot wide. “Someone’s feeling cuddly tonight,” I joke.
He hums into my hair. “Work was long.”
“Any trouble?”
“Never is. Other than standing outside in the cold so long, I swear I have frostbite.”
“Good thing you don’t feel it anyway.” There’s no way I can concentrate on the conversation with him nearly naked behind me.
Whose stupid idea was it to wear all these clothes to bed?
Just imagining his impressive chest pressed against my bare back derails my thoughts into territory so filthy, I’m glad Tanner can’t read minds.
Because if he could, there’s no way he’d be running his nose down the column of my neck. I shiver and scramble out of his tight hold. “What are you doing?”
His eyebrows rumple up, and he looks so adorably bemused, I want to crawl back down beside him. Instead, I stay put, and Tanner heaves himself up to sit next to me.
It must be a sign of maturity or some shit when I manage to hold back from licking his chest.
“Roo …” He sighs, and I catch a whiff of his breath.
“Have you been drinking?”
“I stayed and had a couple while they cleaned up. I needed to clear my head a bit.”
“And what’s got it so full?”
He stares at me, and the conflict on his face settles something inside me. It suddenly all makes sense, because I’ve been there.
“Is it the bi thing?”
His eyes fall closed as his chin drops to his chest. “Yes. That’s … that’s exactly it.”
“Huh. I thought you’d forgotten all about it.”
“How the hell can I do that when it feels like all I can concentrate on?”
“Is it stressing you?”
“A little.”
I try not to be offended. Or hopeful. “But why? It doesn’t matter who you’re attracted to.”
“No, I know.” He finally meets my stare again.
“But I thought I was one thing, and now it’s all so confusing.
Am I actually attracted to men, or am I only curious?
I dunno, Roo. And it’s sort of scary to go around telling people when maybe it’s my brain being dumb again.
” He rubs his eyes. “Things were supposed to be easy and straightforward. I wanna be respected and looked up to, but how can I be any of those things when I don’t even know who I am? ”
My heart aches for him because I know exactly what he’s going through. The fear, the not knowing what comes next, the dawning realization that you’re not like everyone else.
“I thought I should give you space to figure this out on your own.”
“No.” His voice pitches high, and this time when he reaches for me, I go easy.
The gigantic bastard pulls me right into his lap and wraps his arms around me.
“Space is the last thing I want. I’m just …
” His lips ghost over my cheek, and I breathe in the smell of beer again.
“I can’t read about this, so I need you. ”
“You’re focusing on all the wrong things.”
“How do you mean?”
“You’re not dumb, and you don’t have to tell anyone.
There’s no rush to this, and I’m here to help you as much or as little as you want.
For me, it was pretty simple. Women have zero appeal, but I couldn’t ignore my attraction to men.
” I cup his face because I can. “You’ve been ignoring this side of yourself for so long, it’s automatic, and I imagine it’d be pretty hard to break away from that.
Not to mention, being bi sounds so fucking confusing to me.
Some of the bi people I’ve met say their interest is even, some say it leans more one way, or toward a certain type of person. It doesn’t have to be only one way.”
“So how the hell am I supposed to figure out all that?”
“You don’t.” His deepening confusion is so adorable, I lean forward to kiss the lines on his forehead.
Would I have done that if Tanner wasn’t tipsy?
I have no idea. “You stop worrying about it. You stop trying to label yourself and instead, just take away the inhibitions. Instead of focusing on gender, focus on how people make you feel. Meet people, talk to them, find a connection, and don’t worry about what’s in their pants.
Then when you’ve found someone you feel that pull toward, give yourself permission to follow up on it, and to hell with what people think.
Your friends, at least, are never going to turn their backs on you. ”
“That sounds … like something I could do.”
“It is.”
He hugs me close again, and I relax against his chest. He asks, “And have you … found your person?”
Yes.
I found my person when I was eleven, and even if I didn’t know what love meant, I already knew there was no walking away.
“I’ve … found a lot of people.”
He nods stiffly, and maybe I shouldn’t have said that, but there’s no way I can tell him now, while he’s already half freaked out, that he’s my person and I’m beginning to worry that no one else will ever be enough.
“New scenario. What if I find a guy I’m really keen on, and when he pulls out his dick, I realize I’m actually not into it?”
“Then you say no. But trust me, when you’re turned on, you don’t stop and focus on the fact that you’re touching a dick. You just want more. And if you have real feelings for him, it won’t matter if he has a whole marching band down there.”
“That’d be loud sex.” Tanner snorts. “But what if I do say no and he gets pissed?”
“Then he gets pissed. That’s not on you.”
“Except, I feel like it would be. If I did something with … this guy, the last thing I’d want is to hurt him.”
I shake my head. “Tan, you’re the sweetest guy I know. Anyone who doesn’t believe you have their best intentions at heart doesn’t deserve you.”
Tanner’s big hand cups the back of my head as he presses a kiss to my ear.
He lingers there, nose dragging over my skin until he kisses my temple, then my eyelid, then my cheek.
I’m a stupid, weak person, because even knowing he’s been drinking, I’m desperate for more.
I tilt my face up. His lips slide along my jaw before coming to a rest over the corner of my lips.
This is new.
My heartbeat starts to pound in my ears.
His hand tightens in my hair for a moment, and then—
He brushes his lips over mine.
I stop breathing.
I don’t move.
I have no clue what the hell is happening here, but I can practically taste the beer on his breath. Tanner has never, ever kissed me like this sober, so as much as I want to sink into the kiss, I don’t respond at all.
I can’t.
Because my needs come second to Tanner’s, and what he needs is a supportive friend, not someone prepared to take advantage of him while he’s drunk.
The moment he pulls back, I scramble out of his lap. “Right, okay, well, that’s enough talking; you need sleep.”
I wrap the blankets tight around me and ignore the fact that Tanner still hasn’t moved. I refuse to let him know I’ve gotten hard over him again, and if I so much as look at him, I’ll be back in his lap, mouth on his, taking what I’ve wanted for close to a decade.
“Roo?” he whispers.
“Yeah, what’s up?” For fuck’s sake, why does my voice sound like that?
“Can I hold you?”
The hurt in his voice has me ready to say yes, but I know I’m not strong enough for that.
If I’m touching him, I’ll want more. More than he’s ready or maybe even wanting to give me.
I’ve only got one shot at telling him how I feel, and it’s not going to be by rutting against him while he’s half drunk.
I swallow back my immediate response. “Not tonight.”
He doesn’t answer, and it takes another minute for him to get back under the covers. And it’s lucky I have nowhere to be tomorrow, because there’s no way I’m sleeping tonight.