Hardwood - K.M. Neuhold Page 0,34

beat, his body pressed snuggly against mine. It’s much easier to find the right rhythm this time, rocking my body in time with his.

He’s right, it is a bit like sex. And, of course, that thought sends my mind spiraling down a rabbit hole I’m not sure I want to climb out of. Images of our naked bodies moving together just like this fill my mind, his hard cock pressed against mine.

There’s no way Watson doesn’t feel the steel length of my erection pressed against him while we dance. In fact, I’m sure he can feel it, because I can feel his. The songs change from one to another, random men grind on me from behind or jostle past me, and sweat beads on my skin from the humidity of the bar, but the only thing I can focus on is the hard ridge of Watson’s cock against my thigh.

What would happen if I closed the few inches of space and kissed him? Would he kiss me back? Would it ruin our friendship? Fuck, I want to find out. I tighten my fingers against his hips and realize for the first time that my hands are on him. When did that happen?

The song ends, and he leans in, his cheek brushing against mine as he shouts next to my ear so I can hear him.

“I could use some fresh air,” he says, pulling back and fanning himself to prove his point.

He wasn’t entirely wrong about me being a better dancer in a bigger crowd. I’ve lost track of how many songs we’ve danced to in the tight mass of bodies.

“I wouldn’t mind some air,” I agree, my heart pounding from more than just the dance. Maybe it’s the booze or the carefree, anything can happen feeling in the air, but I can’t let the night end without finding out what it would feel like to kiss him. The thought has been consuming my mind for the past few weeks, and I’m almost positive he’s interested. I’m at least sure enough to make a move and find out.

I follow Watson through the crowd and out the back door that leads to the alley behind the building. It’s almost jarring how quiet the night is once the door swings closed behind us, cutting off the sound of music and laughter in an instant.

“Having fun?” he asks, breathing in the cool air and shuffling his feet.

“I am.”

He leans against the side of the building, tilting his head up to look at the half-full moon overhead. My heart flails wildly as I stare at him and work on scraping together my courage.

“You know, you’ve been turning a lot of heads in there tonight. I think you could go home with just about any man you want,” he says, his voice somehow managing to be light and strained at the same time. Does the idea of me going home with someone else upset him? My chest swells at the thought. I lick my lips and take a step closer.

“Do you really think so?” I ask, making my tone low and suggestive so he can’t miss my meaning. “Because there’s a man I’ve had my eye on.”

Watson’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, his eyes dropping to my mouth as I cage him in against the wall.

“We shouldn’t do this,” he protests weakly. His fingers graze the bare skin of my stomach, and his eyes flutter with ecstasy as a quiet gasp falls from my lips. I inch closer until he’s pressed fully against the side of the brick building. The chill of the night licks at my skin, but I barely feel it through the heat of the lust burning inside me.

“Because you don’t want to do this? Or because you think you need to protect my virtue or some shit?” I ask.

He bites his lip and scrunches his eyebrows, clearly summoning all of his energy to figure out the answer to my question, his fingers still dancing along the waistband of my jeans, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“You’re still trying to figure things out,” he finally says. “I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

I let out a low rumble of a laugh. “I’m not figuring things out. There’s not a doubt in my mind that I’m gay, and there hasn’t been for a long time. I’ve been afraid to disrupt my comfortable life, not struggling with my identity,” I clarify. “And I really fucking want to know what it would be like to