The Boyfriend Contract
He didn’t look like he suffered a head concussion, but then again, Caleb being Caleb, he would pretend like he was okay.
My date pouts, her bottom lip jutting out. “Aw. Too bad. I would’ve suggested a threesome.” Then she turns to me, like I’m her favorite piece of candy all over again, running her manicured nails down my chest, “I guess it’s just you and me, then.”
“Actually,” Caleb clears his throat, walking over to us.
I try not to stare at him…at his bare chest and muscled abs, at the bulge beneath his pants or think about how I had it in my mouth only a week ago…or how it tasted…or how much I want to do it again.