Page 49 of Maybe We Can Fake It

“That was... um.” His blue eyes bore into me as he struggles for words. He doesn’t look scared, but he looks... something.

I remind myself that he asked for this. I didn’t do anything wrong. Not technically. But damn, he probably wasn’t asking me to maul him. Although, to be fair, he kind of mauled me first.

He lets go of my shirt as he shifts backward, putting a bit of space between us. That seems to clear his head, and he nods decisively. “Right. So I think that was good. Believable, I mean. It was probably enough practice.”

“Yeah,” I agree, trying to calm my wildly racing heart.

“Well.” He bites his lip, and I instantly think of the perfect, slight twinge of pain when he did it to mine. “I’ll let you get to sleep now.”

“Yeah,” I say again, stupidly. Because what the hell else can I say?

I can’t tell him how much kissing him affects me. How it feels like so much more than practice. How Iwantit to be more, and it’s getting harder and harder to pretend that’s not the case.

I’ve wanted Brenden Sanderson for so damn long. And I’m afraid getting this taste of him, this tease, has opened the floodgates for me. I’m not sure I can hold back my desire any longer. But I’ll have to keep trying.

Because the last thing I want to do is ruin the relationship we have by pushing for something more, something that could never work anyway.

I’mhavingthebestdream, a warm body in front of me, my cock rutting against supple ass cheeks. My hips keep rocking, seeking more, seeking entrance. Someone moans. Was it me?

My eyes fly open.

The dream vanishes in an instant, and reality hits me so hard I gasp. Once again, my dick is trying its absolute best to press into Brenden’s ass through the barriers of our pants.

My instinct, now that I’m awake and in control of myself, is to bolt. But before I move, I realize that something solid is resting on top of my ankle. His foot. Can I disentangle myself without waking him?

I hold as still as possible and try to steady my breathing, becausegoddammit, my dick is throbbing with the need to come. Any small twitch from Brenden’s body might be enough to set me off.

“Mmf.” He lets out a tiny whimper in his sleep, and my dick jerks in response.

Fucking hell. If I don’t do something fast, he’s going to wake up to my rock-hard erection stabbing him in the ass.

Carefully, I slide my leg out from under his foot. I attempt to move away from him in this awkward, hips-first maneuver, but he lets out a louder whine this time and presses his ass back like his body is subconsciously seeking my heat. When his ass bumps into my cockhead, my sweatpants aren’t enough of a barrier anymore to keep me from losing it. The orgasm is so close, I can taste it. And then—

“Travis?”

Fuck, shit, damn it.

“Sorry,” I mutter as I roll quickly away, practically falling out of the bed. I run for the bathroom, slamming the door closed behind me. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I feel vaguely guilty for possibly waking other people up. But the situation is fucking dire.

There’s no way I can will this thing to go down. I’m way too far gone for that. With one hand, I roughly shove my sweatpants past my knees, and with the other, I reach for the tap on the sink, turning the water on.

Brenden was probably disoriented when he woke up. There’s a chance he didn’t have time to register what was prodding him. Maybe he’ll just think I ran off because I really needed to piss.

Feeling like such a creep, I wrap my hand around my dick and give it a long, firm stroke, finally offering myself some relief. I speed up on the next stroke, adding a twist of my wrist at the head, and I have to bite my lip to hold in a moan. Even with the water running, I’m worried about being too loud.

I need to be fast, so this doesn’t look even more suspicious. Which shouldn’t be a problem, considering how on edge I am already. But a sudden knock on the door makes me freeze, hand around the base of my dick.

“Can I come in?” a small voice asks.

“I’m, uh...” I clear my throat when my words come out too husky. “I’m not decent.”

There’s a long pause, in which I assume Brenden’s walked away. But then he says, very clearly, “You didn’t answer my question.”

What the hell? Is he fucking serious?

A million thoughts fly through my mind in the span of only a few seconds. Thoughts like,Absolutely not, and,He’s my friend, and,We can’t do this, and,It’ll fuck everything up.

But then my dick overrides my brain, and I croak out, “Um. Okay.”

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