Page 37 of Napkins and Other Distractions
“Just lie with me. I promise, no hanky-panky.”
“Did you just say ‘hanky-panky’?” I ask, my mouth spreading into a grin, because why is this sweet man also so fucking cute? And do friends cuddle?
“Come.” Vincent stands and offers his hand. As I look into his eyes, Vincent’s fingers reaching for mine, a sense of peace flows over me and I reach out and put my hand in his.
CHAPTER 13
Vincent
Kent follows me into the bathroom. The warmth of his hand in mine radiates up my arm, creating a new expansiveness in my chest. Holding hands was never something I did, not even with my parents when I was little. With the simple, innocent connection, my heartbeat becomes steady. Even. Calm.
Side by side, we wash our hands. Kent waits patiently for me to rinse, matching my every move in the mirror. Needing no reminder, he grabs a fresh toothbrush from the box and immediately starts brushing, vigorously scrubbing his teeth while wearing a goofy grin. Toothpaste foam drips onto his beard, but he quickly wipes it with his arm. He flicks both brows up and my stomach flutters. Even though we haven’t known each other long, the familiarity of him in my bathroom, his presence, grounds me.
Kent spits into the sink. “I don’t have pajamas.”
“Wear your T-shirt and underwear,” I say, remembering his flimsy boxers. “I’m going to shower.” I pull my shirt off and Kent’s gaze flicks to my chest. “I won’t be long, I promise.”
Standing with my back to the scalding water, I do my best to focus. No counting. No loops. Kent waits in my bed. My fucking bed. Wearing a white V-neck and ratty boxers. Reaching to pump the liquid soap, I remind myself, two pumps. Big ones. But only two. The clean scent of orange, with the familiar tinge of honey sweetness, coats my chest. I shaved my entire body yesterday and the gel glides over my smooth skin. With the small amount of natural body hair I have, I only need to do it weekly.
Running my hands over my pecs, the firmness of my muscles and the sensitivity of my nipples send an electric wave of pleasure through me. I tilt my head back, the spray beating onto my neck, and my fingers drift back, lingering, the sensitive nerves in each nipple springing to life. The soap creates a slippery surface my chest can’t deny. My cock, half hard, becomes difficult to ignore. There’s no time now. Kent is waiting. In my bed. Kent is not the person to be thinking about right now.
I shake my head. One, two, three, four times, and turn around. While the shower rinses the soap, I quickly scrub my body, ignoring my chest.
Kent’s folded clothes rest neatly arranged on the dresser. Wearing only my blue flannel pajama pants, I approach my bed. I can’t remember the last time anyone was in my bedroom. The cleaning crew, of course, but not in my bed. With me. The last time was … never. The few encounters I’ve had always happened somewhere else. Quickly. At the gym. In the shower. That one desperate time in the hotel bar bathroom. They were freshly cleaned, with a private stall and a door to the floor. But my home? My bed? Sleeping with someone next to me. For an entire night. I take a deep breath and push those thoughts away. This is Kent. Sweet, patient Kent. We’re friends. I’m safe.
“Goodnight,” I whisper, crawling into my bed.
The room is almost completely dark—the stove light from the kitchen casts the faintest glow down the short hallway, allowing me to make out Kent’s silhouette. His whiskers poke up, and his lips protrude from the nest of hair on his face. Taunting me.
“Goodnight, Vincent.”
Propping myself up on my elbow, I lean over and give him a soft kiss on the cheek, his beard tickling my lips. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For today.”
He pulls back, turns, and reaches up to cup my face. If my heart were made of ice, it would melt into a small, glistening puddle.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs.
And with that, I kiss his lips. Mouths closed. But the spearmint freshness still lingers. It’s short and gentle, and the closeness removes all the tension and stress from my body. When I pull back, I pause, and before I return to my spot, Kent whispers, “My good boy.”
I pat his chest, lingering for a second longer than I should, the thick fur beneath the fabric attracting my fingers like a magnet. Pulling away, I roll over.
We lie in stillness. The sound of his breathing, barely noticeable, hints he’s still awake.
“Kent?”
“Yeah?”
“Would you hold me?”
Breathe in. Breathe out. A single arm surrounds me, slowly gliding over my bare chest like he’s dipping a toe into unknown waters.
“Okay?”
I don’t speak but scoot my entire body, plastering my back to him. Shutting my eyes and inhaling, Kent’s heartbeat thumps, and the skin on my back gravitates to the chest hair escaping his V-neck as I clutch his arm and tug him close.
