Page 44 of Stupid Dirty

He rolls over, putting his back to me. The trailer isn’t great at keeping out the cold, but this room is small, so with both of us in here and the door closed, it heats up pretty fast. Which means we’re both stripped down to our underwear, and Cade only has the blanket pulled up to his waist.

It’s dark, but there’s enough light for me to make out the long, smooth planes of his back. I’ve already gotten in the habit of mentally tracing the lines of his tattoos to lull myself to sleep, and I’m going to miss it when I eventually go home.

I wonder how relaxing it would be to reach out and trace them with my fingers.

Would his skin be soft, or could I feel the scarring of each tattoo if I closed my eyes?

What would he taste like if I traced them with my mouth? What would it be like to wrap myself around him, breathing him in and letting his hands touch every inch of me, so warm and reassuring?

Shut. Up.

I shove that part of my brain down as hard as I can and tear my gaze away from Cade’s naked back. We never got the chance to talk after the bar on Friday, and I’m trying to table all these weirdwhat ifsto deal with when Cade’s not going through a crisis.

There’s no reason to bother him with my confusing shit when he’s got bigger things on his mind. Maybe it’s normal. Maybe it’s a side effect of the super-dramatic way we became friends. Maybe this is the kind of shit your brain likes to throw at you when you go through puberty, and for whatever reason, my brain is really, really late to the party.

I’ll talk to him about it later.

And I’ll come clean about not sleeping with Cassidy.

I will.

Cade is already asleep, his breath deep and rhythmic beside me. I don’t let myself think about anything else, and I don’t let myself stare at his tattoos. Instead, I listen to the sound of his breathing and remind myself that he’s safe, and that’s the only thing that matters.

It’s my fourth night staying with Cade that he ends up tossing and turning, unable to sleep. The room is warm with our body heat and the bed is cramped, but that’s always the case, so I don’t know what’s changed tonight.

Eventually, when he rolls over with an annoyed huff for what feels like the millionth time, my patience snaps.

“Cade, I know you don’t like sitting still, but it’s sleep time now. What the hell is going on?”

The silence that I get in response is a surprise. Cade is the chatty one. I’m the broody one. That’s our dynamic. It makes me a little worried, but I wait for him to answer, and eventually he rolls onto his back with a sigh.

He’s stripped down to his boxer-briefs, like every night, and the thin blanket is covering him up to his waist. But even through those two layers of fabric, even in the dark, I can see the bulge of the tent he’s pitching down there. Reaching one hand down to cup his junk and squeeze, Cade takes a deep breath and sighs again.

“Sorry, man, I just… I haven’t been able to get off in forever, and it’s getting to me. I’m so fucking horny, it’s driving me nuts.”

He punctuates this by squeezing his junk again, and this time his hips lift a little off the mattress, and he lets out the faintest groan.

I wasn’t hard before, but I am now. 0 to 60. Fully fucking erect. I’m lying on my side to face him, and I tilt my hips a little more towards the mattress so he can’t see how much looking at him casually squeezing his boner is affecting me and realize how confused I really am.

“Could we just…” he keeps going, his gaze trained on the ceiling instead of me, his hand still on his junk, not moving even though he obviously wants to. The muscles and tendons in his neck are standing out from how tense his body is, and I watch a bead of sweat roll down over his jugular in the dim light.

I wonder what it would taste like if I licked it off.

God, what am I doing?

“Can I just get myself off so I can sleep and we can forget this happened? It doesn’t have to be weird. I can’t use the bathroom because the door doesn’t close properly, and it’s right next to the girls’ room. If I have to traumatize someone, I’d rather traumatize you than my little sisters. Sorry. You know how often they barge in there without warning. It’s why I gave up on jerking off in the shower a long time ago.”

The words come out of his mouth all in a rush, and then he finally turns his head and looks at me.

I know I’m supposed to answer, but it’s hard to think over the sound of blood rushing through my ears. I clear my throat and swallow past the boulder lodged there to buy myself some time.

“Yeah, uh, sure. Go for it. It’s no big deal.”

He blows out all the air from his lungs, and I realize he must have been holding his breath. I guess it is a weird thing to ask someone, but he’s my best friend. I couldn’t deny him anything. Even if I didn’t have these weird, lusty thoughts about him.

But goddamn if it’s not going to be hard to lie here and listen.

Rolling over onto my back so I won’t be tempted to watch him, I hear the rustle as he reaches into his underwear and strokes himself. He lets out a long, shuddering sigh and my cock throbs in response.

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