and composition. It’s the best therapy out there.”
I nodded in wordless agreement. “Yeah, it is.”
Dec cocked his head curiously. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you think I’m kinda weird.” His jocular tone and waggling brows made me laugh.
“I do.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“You’re a special weirdo.” The affectionate lilt in my voice surprised us both.
We stared at each other for a long moment. I couldn’t speak for Dec, but my head was all over the place. My band, my mom, Sebastian’s PR proposal…it had been a hell of a day. Sitting on a park bench, shooting the shit with Dec was the most relaxed I’d felt in ages. I stared at his mouth, then met his eyes. And just like that, humor gave way to desire.
It wasn’t the out of control flash of madness that drove our recent hookups. This felt different. More nuanced. It was as if I could see him clearly without the angry filter I’d erected between us. And I liked what I saw.
A lot.
I leaned in, tugged at his collar to pull him close…then I kissed him.
The connection was sweet and languid…a gentle press of lips, no tongue involved. I could have stayed glued to him like that for hours and not missed a beat. I liked his smell, his taste, and the way he sighed against my mouth.
Maybe this was a mistake. Of course, it was. It didn’t change the fact that I needed more.
I pulled back slightly to gauge his expression, tracing the slight indentation on his bottom lip. He licked my finger. That was sexier than it should have been. Fuck me. This was a bad idea, and I knew it, but…
“Come home with me,” I whispered, nibbling his lower lip.
“Is that smart?”
“No, it’s a terrible idea.”
Dec chuckled. “I guess that hasn’t stopped us yet.”
I braced myself for this to feel weird or wrong on the drive home, but it was so damn easy to be with him.
Dec kept up a steady stream of chatter. He talked about the weather, the color of the sky, the billboard advertisements along the freeway, peppering his commentary with telling adjectives. A fitful chill, an indigo sky, everyday life. I knew without asking that he was writing a song in his head. Maybe about us.
Later that night, I wondered if he’d include the part where we came together like hungry wolves, clawing at each other as we thrust and groaned in a feverish rhythm. I saw stars I didn’t know existed when my climax hit me. It made me greedy for more.
“Fuck, we’re good at that,” Dec panted, swiping his fingers through the mess of sweat and cum on his stomach.
We were. But we shouldn’t make this a habit. Someone had to reset boundaries and re-erect the wall between us.
So, of course, I opened my mouth and said, “Maybe we can just do this part.”
He narrowed his eyes warily. “We agreed that was a bad idea after that party when—”
“I remember, but maybe we wouldn’t suck at it.” Wow. Note to self…don’t go into sales.
Dec fixed me with a shrewd look. “So that would make us fuck-buddies who pretend to be boyfriends? That’s not complicated at all.”
“I prefer ‘friends with benefits’, but you’re right. Let’s stick with trying not to kill each other in the studio and see how that goes.”
He chuckled. “Good plan.”
I kissed his cheek impulsively. “One more thing. Thanks for today. It was nice.”
Dec sat up and flashed one of his high-voltage grins. “I gotta warn you, T…if you get any sweeter, I’m gonna think you like me.”
“Well, I don’t,” I lied. “C’mon, I’ll take you home.”
Friends with benefits. What the fuck was I thinking?
The honest answer…I wasn’t thinking at all. My brain was tired of making sense of a wacky situation. It was easier to go with the flow. Secretly, of course.
It happened organically, as though the mere suggestion that we could be something more opened a window of possibility. There was no point in denying that we were crazy attracted to each other. This didn’t have to mean anything. It could be casual. Like a compatibility test for fake boyfriends. Or something like that. Right?
Over the following weeks, we cautiously tried on a new role. We stuck to clandestine make-out sessions at first. Sweet, passionate kisses, roving hands, and a little harmless friction. We’d break for air, looking slightly confused to find ourselves sporting wood in the office before picking up our mugs and heading to the studio.
Every day we got