He rested his cup on the cheek of my ass and leaned back against the pillows propping him against the wall, snapping open a newspaper.
“What?” I squeaked. “What about your nightstand?”
“I like this one better.” He cocked his eyebrow at me before returning to reading. “I suggest you don’t move. The coffee is hot and would probably burn the soft skin of your ass.”
I glowered, but had to turn my head to hide the smile. Something about being used as a piece of furniture heated me more than the mug resting on my backside. I muttered, “Sadist,” but he didn’t respond, and I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was turning me on. It was useless because when I glanced at him again, he was smirking.
I unlocked my phone and opened the Kindle app, reading and enjoying the lazy morning in bed. Occasionally, he would lift his cup to take a sip and let me take a drink of my own, but then immediately returned his coffee back to its spot.
It was sadistic, domesticated bliss. And I loved it. But I was confused by it too.
The last time he lifted his mug, he didn’t return it to my butt. I heard it thud against his nightstand and felt the bed shift before a lone finger dragged down my back, pulling the sheet with it until I was bared to the dimples at the base of my spine. The finger traveled back up sending goose bumps spreading outward. Back and forth, while my mind spun with questions.
“What are we doing?” I asked the question that had been at the forefront of my mind since we first fucked in the park. He’d told me to relax and just enjoy it. But the comfort of lying in bed with him, like we were living some kind of normal life, spurred me to ask what the hell was going on.
“What do you mean? We’re enjoying a lazy Sunday in my bed. I’m dragging my finger up your delicious back and imagining mounting you from behind so I can stare at it while I fuck you.”
“Kevin—”
“Ana.”
“Don’t. Don’t turn this sexual. What are we doing?” I repeated.
He stopped his finger and adjusted himself to lie next to me, propping his head up on his hand. “Whatever you want us to be doing. Like I said, I know you have a lot going on, and I want to be here for you. You’re my best friend. You just also happen to be the only woman who accepts me and lets me fuck the way I need to. But the friendship comes first.” He paused and searched my face. “What do you want to be doing, Ana?”
My head flopped forward and I buried it in the pillow, letting it muffle my words. “I don’t know.”
I didn’t know.
My body and mind were in a tug of war and I wasn’t sure which one I wanted to win. So many factors played a role in my decisions, but it didn’t seem like I could get any of them to line up and make sense. I wanted Andrew because he made me laugh, relax, and he had the promise of a normal life. I wanted Kevin because he was my friend. He came without secrets and lit me up with a desire only he understood. “I feel like a cheater,” I confessed, turning my head just enough to look at him.
“Why?” His brows furrowed at my statement. “Because of Andrew?” I nodded into the pillow. “Have you promised to be exclusive with him? Has he asked you to?”
“No, but—”
“No buts about it.” He shoved my shoulder, moving me to my back and laying on top of me. “You are not a cheater. You are one of the kindest people I know. You don’t owe anyone anything. Not even me. Right now, you are taking care of yourself and taking things that feel good to you. You shouldn’t feel guilty about it.” He leaned in and kissed me softly, soothing me with his lips before trailing down my neck and moving across my chest. “Does this feel good?”
“Yes.” I gasped when his teeth bit my nipple too hard.
“Then that’s all that matters.” His body lifted and he used his legs to spread mine. “If I were a better man, maybe I would step aside.” His kisses moved lower across my stomach. “But I’m not.” My core clenched when his tongue dipped into my belly button, a hint as to where he was heading. “I’m a man who knows what you need and would move heaven and earth to give it to you.”
I wasn’t sure I believed that I wasn’t a cheater, or that I should focus on myself.
But with his tongue inside me and the painful, bruising grip he had on my hips, I really didn’t care.