Starting from Scratch (Starting from 2)

“ ‘What’s your name’ and ‘what do you for fun’ are the precursor to ‘what’s your sign,’ ” he commented idly.

“Yes, but you have to start with the lame ones before you get to the good stuff.”

Ky brought my hand to my side, then pushed away from the wall and linked his fingers in mine. “What’s the good stuff?”

“Uh, well…you smell good. What kind of cologne are you wearing?”

“Is that a real question or a pickup line?” he asked, rubbing his scruffy jaw along mine.

I shivered at the contact and nodded before hooking my thumb in one of his belt loops. “Both.”

“Hmm. I can’t remember if I’m wearing cologne, and that’s a bad line anyway.”

“That’s the idea. It’s okay to be slightly cheesy as long as you don’t overdo it. But…how can you not know if you put cologne on?” I asked incredulously. “That’s like forgetting to brush your teeth.”

Ky chuckled as he tipped my chin. “I don’t think so. Keep talking. What comes next?”

“Um…you get closer and compliment him. The color of his eyes, his shirt, his shoes, whatever seems to fit the moment,” I replied in a breathy voice. “Sometimes you need to back off. So he doesn’t get nervous. But then you start over…with a slight touch, eye contact, and—”

“Let me try.” Ky set his hand on my hip and stared at my mouth before meeting my gaze. “What’s your sign?”

When I busted up laughing, he stepped back and joined in for a second, then set his hands on the wall above my head and brushed his nose against mine.

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t know, but I think we should do something crazy.”

“Like what?” I whispered.

Ky went still for a moment as if waiting for permission before gently pressing his lips to mine.

It happened so fast and felt so natural that I didn’t hesitate to throw everything I had into the connection. I wound my arms around his waist and tilted my head, gliding my tongue alongside his. Ky lowered one hand, raking his fingers down my chest before tugging my shirt from my khakis and slipping his hand underneath, flattening it on my bare stomach. I moaned when he tweaked my nipple and bit my chin before licking a trail along my jaw. And when he recaptured my mouth, I almost dropped to my knees right then and there. The slightest hint of friction even through a few layers of clothes was a terrible tease. But damn, I needed this. And I didn’t want to think about consequences if I asked for just a little more.

I broke the kiss and set my hand over his belt buckle. “I want to do something really crazy.”

“Do it.” His nostrils flared and his Adam’s apple moved lustily, like he was barely holding on.

“Okay, but…”

Ky shook his head and let out a strangled half laugh. “Don’t tease, Char. Do what feels right. If you want to touch me”—he grabbed my hand and placed it over his obvious erection—“do it.”

I closed my eyes as I curled my fingers around his jean-clad shaft. I couldn’t hear the sound of my voice over my heartbeat, but I figured one of us should keep things real. “Yeah, I’m drunk and you’re tipsy, Ky. I don’t want to be your morning regret or—”

“I’m not waking up till afternoon,” he purred, nipping my earlobe as he tilted his hips seductively.

“You know what I mean, smartass.” I squeezed Ky’s hard-on and stroked him through his jeans. “Someone has to be responsible.”

He pulled back slightly and fixed me with an intense stare. “Give us fifteen minutes to do whatever we want. We can erase it afterward and say it never happened, but…fuck, I just—I want you to…”

I stroked his length and hummed. “Suck your cock?”

He licked his lips. “You don’t have to do that. Just…touch me.”

I met his gaze and nodded. Then I slipped his belt through a loop on his jeans and fumbled with the buckle and the button before slowly easing the zipper down and—

Holy fuck. “No underwear?”

Ky shook his head. “Keep going.”

I obeyed, gingerly setting my hands low on his hips and pushing the denim over his fucking perfect ass. I may have whimpered. And if so, sue me. I hadn’t been with anyone quite this hot in a while. Ky was every fantasy man I’d ever secretly lusted over come to life. The sexy aloof guy behind a guitar…or a bass, the cool skater boy who was so far out of my league we might as well have been from different planets. My friends mistakenly assumed I had a thing for suave gentlemen who wore designer brands and took their yearly gay vacay in Mykonos with a dozen of their overly muscled besties. They were wrong. Ky was exactly my type. The bad boy with a hidden bi side who’d been around the block a few times.