Page 32 of Unraveling with You

“Foryou?”

He laughs, sitting back. “My job title might make that confusing, but I mean it. I’m—” He hums, twisting his lips. “It takes a lot for me to want to open up.”

As his dark stare dissolves into pure vulnerability, my heart tears at the seams. He’s trusting me, even though it’s scary. Just like I’m trusting him.

I break into a smile. “T-that makes me feel special.”

“Good,” he rumbles. “Because you are.”

Huddling together, our chat extends beyond just some extra sexy fun; I feel like we’ve shifted our friendship into the most romantic friendship I’ve ever experienced.

We’re growing into each other’s presence by the minute, laughing just as much as we settle in to whisper secrets. I wish tomorrow was Tuesday.

CHAPTER 7

GRIPPING MY BLACK BOMBERjacket with clammy palms, I hunch over myself on the bus, trying to will away my nausea. I can’t back down now: I know I don’t want to. I already texted Remington photos of my latest STI test results, just like he did. We flirted heavily afterward, leading me to have to hide from Celeste, hopping into the shower to properly fantasize and quell my arousal. I want this, and I want Remington; I’m attracted to him enough to erase the sexual anxiety that usually prevents me from climaxing. All I have to do is think about his hands applying firm pressure to my hips again, and my toys hoist me over the edge with squirming legs.

But now that Tuesday is here, I’m gut-wrenchingly anxious.

I probably care too much about what Remington thinks, but I can’t help it. No matter how hard I try - wearing my faux-leather platform boots, a ruched black top that flaunts my cleavage, and the coolest jacket I own with patches, chains, and even more studs than my last one - I’m still about to look like an awkward, lost doe at Club X.

Who am I kidding that I could actually be entertaining enough to play with someone as experienced as Remington? He’ll probably think it’s a nuisance to have to teach me every little nuance he’s known for years.

But the second I step off the bus, Remington’s brightening stare erases my thoughts. Chains grace his hips, a collarless and ripped black T-shirt hangs low on his chest, and a string is the only thing tying together the front of his tight pants. He looks like a lead singer, but he’s gaping at me as if I’m glorious.

I laugh, dropping my head, but Remington steps closer. Hugging me tight, his deep, welcoming hum sends a happy shiver down my back.

“You lookgorgeous, L.L.B.” He pulls back to look me up and down again in his arms, and I smile wider.

“You look amazing too, Rem.”

But Remington pauses, biting his lip.

My heart drops. “What’s wrong?”

“You’ve looked incredibly cute every time I’ve seen you, no matter what you wear. I just hope you aren’t trying to change your style for my sake.”

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