The only thing that had changed with us, between then and now, was that damn kiss. Was one single kiss going to have a ripple effect that changed everything between us?
As soon as Ronan came out of the bathroom, he slid between the sheets on the right side of the bed and the room went pitch black when he switched off the light on the table next to it.
I stared up at the ceiling, trying desperately not to touch my semi. Trying even harder not to touch Ronan. His heat turned the space between us into an oven and I listened to his slow and steady breathing.
By sticking to the right edge of the bed while I stuck to the left, Ronan made sure no parts of us touched.
I was thankful for that because my resistance was thin tonight and while I completely trusted the man lying next to me, I didn’t trust myself.
I knew the exact moment he fell asleep when his breathing changed to a very soft snore. It was almost comforting and I began to count each one like sheep.
Eventually, my eyelids became heavy and I lost track of the number.
Soon after that, I lost track of everything else.
Tate (Then)
My eyelids were glued together. My mouth dry as a desert.
My temples throbbed with the rhythm of my heartbeat. A slow thump, thump, thump.
I groaned, keeping my eyes closed since I couldn’t remember if I had shut the curtains before collapsing into bed last night—or earlier this morning more like it—after getting back from…
I frowned.
From…
The party Jack wanted us to go to with him.
Us.
Not Dahlia and me.
But Ronan and me.
That “us.”
That meant it couldn’t be her spooning me. It couldn’t be her making me so damn hot. Plus, Dahlia was always cold. Her hands and feet were usually tucked somewhere I didn’t want them because of that.
But it wasn’t frozen fingers or toes tucked between my ass crack. I slowly became aware that it wasn’t Dahlia, either. Unless she had somehow expertly hidden the fact she had a dick.
I cracked my blurry eyes open enough to see the top sheet pushed down to my hips and a muscular arm draped over my waist.
An arm hairier than Dahlia’s.
Skin a darker complexion than my girlfriend’s.
And definitely without a bit of womanly softness.
What was pressed into my ass crack was thick, hard and very, very hot. The chest pressed against my back was very firm and very flat.
Every muscle in my body turned to stone as I went back over what I remembered of the night.
Most of it was a blur.
Until that one, significant moment…
Then it again turned into a blur…
How the hell did we end up in bed together?
I would remember if something—other than sleep—happened, wouldn’t I?
I would feel the effects of... if we… in some way, wouldn’t I?
Without moving, I mentally inspected myself from head to toe. Every orifice, too, for any indication that Ronan and I had done something more than that single, unexpected kiss in the dark.
Reality hit me like an ocean wave in a hurricane.
I kissed a man last night.
I kissed Ronan.
Now he was the “big spoon” as his arm clamped me tightly against him, his nose pressed against the back of my neck and his warm exhales swept over my bare shoulder.
I held my breath when the bed shifted slightly and so did Ronan behind me. His movement made his erection slide between my ass cheeks the slightest bit with only our underwear separating us.
Luckily, we both still wore ours.
I needed to get out of this bed and reestablish our boundaries.
We were friends only.
Friends and classmates, that was it.
However, he was a friend I didn’t want to lose. I didn’t want things to be awkward or uncomfortable between us. It was bad enough when we kissed last night, but now this?
This…
Oh shit… This…
What was he doing? Was he aware that he was now thrusting against me? Like his cock was a hot dog and my ass cheeks were the bun?
I needed to stop this. Get out of bed. Get away from…
The temptation.
What was wrong with me?
Move, Tate. Move!
I began to move but not to leave the bed. Instead, I tentatively rocked against him. Not much, but enough apparently to encourage him further.
Was he doing it in his sleep, or was he awake and aware?
He said last night he was big on consent.
I should wake him up, make him aware of what he was doing. He was probably having a dream about having sex with a man, like I had about him.
“Roe,” I whispered, once again overwhelmed. Not with what he was doing, but with how I was feeling about it.
I wanted him to stop.
I also didn’t want him to stop.
“Roe,” I whispered again.
“Hmm?” came muffled from the back of my neck where his lips now pressed. He planted his hand on my stomach, spreading out his fingers and holding me there as he continued to rock gently against me. “Tell me to stop, T,” he groaned.