My Favorite Half-Night Stand(7)

When I focus again, it’s hard to think of anything; Millie has been busy. One finger is tucked into my belt loop and her lips are hovering near my chin, skirting along my jaw. It’s decision time. All I have to do is tilt my face down to her, and we’ll be kissing. I’m already getting hard, and the question whether this is a great or disastrous decision is growing cloudier.

“Are we going to do this?” This time I say it out loud. Her breath, against my mouth, is sweet with wine and the apple Jolly Rancher she swiped from Chris’s counter on our way out the door.

“I really, really want sex tonight,” she admits. “Specifically, I’d like sex with you, but if you’re weirded out by this, then it’s cool if you leave and I dive into the drawer of sin in my bedroom.”

I haven’t exactly made up my mind, but my lips pass over hers once—just to see—then again, and it’s not weird, not even a little. It’s soft and easy. My pulse taps out an impatient beat inside me. “The drawer of sin?”

“Sex toys.”

“No,” I say, kissing her again, “I translated that. I mean . . . you have an entire drawer of them?”

“It’s not a huge drawer.” Her mouth comes over mine, firmer now, and then she grins into the kiss. “But yeah. It’s full.”

Wow, her lips are unbelievable—playful, soft, immediately addicting. It takes almost no time for her to transition from Millie, my friend into Millie, sexpot, and for a tiny flicker, I desperately hope that we can transition back just as easily.

But then her hands come up under my shirt, and I hope instead that time snags on this night, so it doesn’t ever end.

Her palms are soft slides of heat, up over my stomach, to my chest. Fingernails teasing, fingertips mapping every inch of me. Her sounds vibrate against my lips, into my mouth. My shirt is up and gone. Her hands work madly at my belt, my button, my zipper, until my jeans are a puddle of black at my feet.

All the thoughts we shouldn’t have about our friends are unleashed—how she kisses, what sounds she makes, does she take charge, is she fun?—and by her grin I can tell the same thing files through her thoughts. What a relief to find all the unexpected ways we’re compatible.

I like her little gasp when she digs into my boxers and feels me. I like the sneaky smile that presses against mine. “Reid. I’m touching your dick.”

“I know.”

“I like it,” she whispers.

“Coincidence? I do, too.”

She giggles, pulling her hand out of my boxers and cupping her hands at my waist while she walks backward, leading me down the hall to her bedroom. She kisses my collarbones, my neck, my jaw.

Millie is easy to undress: just a tug of fabric up over her head, and then she’s standing there in nothing but her underwear. I’ve always semiconsciously suspected she had a great chest, but now I get to confirm with my eyes, and hands, and mouth. I’ve always appreciated that she likes to swim, that she eats pretty well—but now I get to see the definition along her arms, her stomach, the strength of her thighs. Her hair is a mess; her mouth is a little swollen from me already. I haven’t had sex in months, and I’m momentarily overwhelmed—a starving man at a buffet, unsure where to start.

“You’re overthinking something,” she says, and then moves closer, hooking her thumbs into the waistband of my boxers. “Don’t think.”

I twist a strand of her hair around my index finger. “Should we establish some ground rules?”

When Millie pulls away slightly, her eyes are dark and heavy. “If you want?”

“I just feel like we should.”

Her lips return to my neck, sucking. “Okay, one, we both come.”

I pull back and look at her. “Seriously? That needs to be said?”

A wry curve tugs at her mouth. “Oh, you’d be surprised.”

“I’ve got you,” I say, kissing her smile. “But my rule is we don’t tell the guys.” Ed is so genuinely optimistic, he’d probably be happy for us even if it’s just one night of fun. But Alex is a smart-ass who would give us unending shit and Chris would be horrified.

It’s her turn to pull back in surprise. “That needs to be said?”

“I feel like they’d be jealous, I guess.”

“Of me, obviously. Clearly everyone wants to bang Reid.”

This makes me laugh. “Clearly.”

“So, you’re not telling Chris? You tell him everything.”

She’s right, but he would never be on board for this kind of impulsive decision. Chris is the most intentional, cautious person I’ve ever known. “I swear I won’t.”

Her hand slides over my stomach, and a fingertip traces the line of hair above my boxers. “Any other rules?

“I have condoms,” I say. “But they’re in my car.”

“I have some in my drawer of sin.”

I can hear the smile in her voice, but the blunt mention of something so physically related to the act makes her neck go warm under my mouth.

Her bra comes off with a little slip of my fingers, and I lose even more of my plan to savor this when I fit my hand around the warm curve of her breast. “What do you like?”

“Everything,” she says, quickly adding, “except anal.”