I’ve never had a single moment in my life where everything clicked and fell into place. Never had that realisation that this is what I live for. But having Law’s mouth on mine, his tongue teasing the seam of my lips, it’s the first time I’ve ever craved that belonging sensation. Like I belong with him.
Fuck, this is so wrong.
“Law?” I murmur against his skin.
His eyes widen, and he pulls away. “Shit. I’m sorry.”
“Do you often kiss people in your sleep?” I wipe my mouth but not because I didn’t like it. I liked it too much. Way too much from a straight guy whose brother I’m screwing.
“More than you’d think.” Law’s head hits the pillow with a disappointed thud. “I was dreaming, wasn’t I?”
“Think so. You don’t remember what it was about?”
“No.”
“You were calling out for your brother. And then you opened your eyes and kissed me. If I had dark hair, I’d probably worry you were trying to kiss Anders.”
He laughs again, but there’s no humour this time. “We may be fucked up, but we’re not that fucked up.”
“You’re not fucked up at all, Law. You went through some messed-up shit, and you’re allowed to have issues, but that doesn’t mean you’re irrevocably fucked up.”
“Irrevocably,” Law mumbles. “It’s too middle of the night for big words, teach.”
“Can I get you anything? Water? A shot of whisky?”
“Whisky will probably make it worse.” Law sits up and runs a hand over his tired face as he yawns. “I’m not getting back to sleep anytime soon. I may not remember what I was dreaming about, but I know I don’t want to go back into it. I’ve had it a million times before. You want to take the bed and I’ll watch your TV for a while?”
“I’m up now too. We can watch something together.” I don’t think leaving him alone right now is the best thing to do. I stand and then realise that’s a bad idea when my cock tents in my boxers and pretty much lines up with Law’s face. He sees it too, and instead of shock or embarrassment on his face, I swear his lips turn up into a smile. Before he can say anything, I clear my throat and turn on my heel.
“I don’t need a babysitter,” he calls after me.
I ignore him, not only because I think he’s lying but also because I don’t want to go back to sleep. After that kiss, I don’t know if I’ll be able to. I go back to the couch and sit at one end, covering my hard-on with my blanket. Law’s lips were on mine for two bloody seconds, and my cock refuses to deflate because of it.
It’s because he looks like Anders, I remind myself.
Yet, when he sits next to me, also only in his boxers and a T-shirt, and he stretches his long legs out, my dick gets harder, not softer.
I’m in trouble.
“Uh, umm,” I stammer, “what do you want to watch?”
“Anything where I don’t have to think.”
“So anything made after 2001?” I flick through the Netflix selection and arrive on the first brainless one I come across.
“The Hangover?” Law asks.
“It’s so far past ridiculous that it’s funny.”
“That’ll work.”
As the movie starts, I try to settle in next to Law on the couch, but all I can think about is his soft lips and the way he kissed me. It was brief but somehow needy, grateful, and hot at the same time.
“Okay,” Law says, “marry, kill, fuck three of the actors in this movie. Go.”
I smile. “That’s easy. Marry Justin Bartha, fuck Bradley Cooper because he’s Bradley-fucking-Cooper, and kill Zach Galifianakis because I’m pretty sure he’d be the same in real life as he is on screen.”
Law narrows his eyes. “You came up with that answer way too easily. Makes me think you’ve thought hard about this in the past.”
“How would you answer then?”
He bites his lip as if thinking about it. “Kill Ed Helms because his face and voice annoy me, fuck Bradley Cooper because I agree with you on that one, and marry Heather Graham.”
He finds Bradley Cooper hot?
Don’t read into it, my mind tells me. It’s just a game. If given the chance to actually fuck Bradley Cooper, he wouldn’t do it. He’s straight.
But he did kiss me.
“Is Heather Graham your type of woman?” I manage to ask. “A stripper?”
Law lets out a laugh. “An actress playing a stripper, yes. I said actors, not characters. If we’re going to marry a character in this movie, it’d have to be Justin Bartha’s character too. He’s the only one of them who isn’t insane.”
And a man …
I suddenly find myself extremely interested in Law’s type. “What about real girlfriends? Have they been the insane type or the stripper type?”
“Sometimes both.”
I can’t tell if he’s joking or not.