This is the only way to know if we have what it takes to have a well-rounded relationship. He’ll come to see my superior problem solving. I have to wait him out.
He strokes the stubble on his chin and I’ve won before he even opens his mouth. “One time? To see if it works?”
“Yes.”
“And if it doesn’t?” He strokes his chin again.
I shrug. “If it doesn’t then we forget it ever happened and go back to being friends.”
I’m not worried about this not working. So not worried about it the thought of what might happen with Cyrus already has me excited. I’ve only had about two billion fantasies involving him and me over the last few years. If he can be sexy while almost turning me down, the man has this one in the bag.
“No strings attached?”
Now the waiting is getting annoying. “Yes, no strings attached. We’re like friends with benefits, but only the one benefit, this one time.”
The concern on his face slips turning into a sly grin. “Unless I rock your world. Then we do this thing full time?”
Match, set, score, or whatever they hell they say in tennis. I’ve always been a winter sports girl. I’ve got him. “Yup.”
“When are we going to do it? Should we schedule it?”
When Cyrus tries to schedule sex like a Type A person on crack, his anxiety is through the roof. He is never one to plan too far in the future.
Plus, like hell will I schedule a sexy date with Cyrus. We’d both back out. This is happening right now.
“No, we’re going to do it right now.” Starting at the hem, I jerk my long-sleeve shirt over my head and toss it on the floor. If I don’t do it quickly there’s a real chance I’ll get nervous and never do it.
Cyrus’ eyes widen to the point I worry they could fall out. Can that happen to a non-cartoon character? He gulps, staring at my exposed chest and the plain white bra I put on this morning.
Hey, had I known the day would turn out this way, I would have put more thought into my underwear. I bite my lips and wait, resisting the urge to cover myself. I am so not one of the models he’s used to dating. I catch sight of my bicep and cringe. Maybe the reporter was right and I’m too muscular. What if Cyrus doesn’t like muscles on women?
“You sure about this?” he asks.
Damn, a girl’s self-confidence could really take a hit in a moment like this, but by happy accident my gaze falls and I catch sight of the large bulge growing beneath his athletic pants. My body is toned and fit. I have more muscles in my arms and especially my legs than a regular woman. Most people would say it wasn’t something to have self-confidence issues about — many women would kill to have my body. But the truth of it is, a lot of men like their women to be more feminine. At least from what I’ve experienced. No man wants to know you can bench press him. That reporter got way too into my head.
“Yes, I’m sure. Are you going to leave me sitting here?”
It’s all the encouragement he needs, even if it took him long enough.
Once I give the final okay, Cyrus makes up for lost time. He hooks an arm around my waist and his lips find mine, touching and tasting. His kiss is strong and harder than I imagined. Our first kiss is fast and full of passion. As if we’ve both been waiting years for this exact moment… because we have. I’m distracted by the feel of his skin against mine — his lips and the way the shape of his mouth fits against my own so perfectly. With my attention elsewhere, the next time I open my eyes I’m looking up at the ceiling. Somehow Cyrus maneuvered me underneath him and he looms overhead.
His mouth opens as if a question lingers on his lips. I narrow my eyes and say, “I swear to God, Cyrus, if you ask me one more time if I’m sure I will kill you.”
He chuckles. “I’ve waited so long for this I want to make sure I’m not imagining it.”
My breath catches in my throat. “You’re not imagining this.” I do my best to reassure him, but I understand this fear. It’s one I’m having myself. What if this is another dream and I wake up tomorrow morning with nothing but continued sexual frustration? Before the negative thought is allowed to steal the mood, I tamp that shit down and tell myself it doesn’t matter. Real or not, I’m not letting anything stand in my way. This will be the best damn dream sex ever.
Reaching between us, I squeeze his now rock-hard dick, ready for so much more Cyrus. I need him to hurry up and take my pants off as well.
Not in the same rush I am, Cyrus nuzzles his head against my neck and bites at the area between my neck and shoulder. His teeth score against my skin to the point it’s almost painful, but there’s no way I’ll stop him. His head continues to dip down my body. He somehow manages to push my bra high up on my chest until am forced to reach around and unclasp it myself. The material gets tangled up in my arms and I give up fidgeting to get it off.
Cyrus isn’t bothered by any of it. His attention is solely on my breasts. When he notices I’ve given up on the bra, his tongue seeks out my right nipple. He licks and caresses, sucks and nibbles, while his hand squeezes the other. Cool air surrounds me, giving me a slight case of goosebumps when his mouth leaves. His fingers fumble with the button and zipper of my jeans.
“What are you doing?”
Cyrus stops — which is not something I want him to do — and gives me a puzzled look. “Taking off your pants.”
“But you still have yours on. They should come off too.”
He shakes his head and goes back to the task of pulling my jeans down my legs. “Don’t worry. They will.”
“I don’t think that’s fair,” I say even as I lift my butt to make it easier for him to take my pants off.
“If I only get one chance at this, I’m going to make it’s the best sex you’ve ever had.”
With my jeans around my ankles I do my best to kick them off without hurting him. Cyrus’ attention focuses on my underwear. They’re about as pretty as the white bra still hanging from one of my shoulders. At least they’re from Victoria’s Secret, even if it is their granny collection.
Again, it’s really not my fault.
The lack of pretty underwear doesn’t seem to dissuade him, as with one finger on each side he slowly drags them down my legs. “Stop arguing and lie back and enjoy yourself.”
He parts my knees, spreading my legs open, and as of this moment I realize for the first time in my life I am completely open for Cyrus — literally. It’s broad daylight and I’m lying on top of his bed completely naked. I hope to God he knows where his roommate is and when he plans to come back. This is not the position I want to find myself in should he stop by to pick something up or catch a nap.
“Cyrus, where’s your roommate?” I ask as his tongue makes contact with my pussy. His swipes a large path, ending with my clit.
He raises his head to answer and I immediately regret the question. Who cares where his roommate is? “Practice. All day.”
I swear, the muscles in my legs tighten as his head lowers once again. This time I make sure not to interrupt as his tongue flits back and forth over my clit. He uses the same motions he did on my nipple, licking and sucking in an almost rhythmic pattern.
“Oh God,” I moaned. “Don’t stop.”
My muscles tighten harder as an orgasm builds. My legs jerk between each of his movements, and Cyrus holds them down with steady hands. My shoulders shake and I squeeze my eyes shut, my legs wrapping tightly around Cyrus’ head even as he holds them down. The orgasm hits hard, pulsing through my body like turbulent waves. He puts a hand over my mouth to muffle my moan as my back arches off the bed. Cyrus doesn’t relent until my back hits the bed, my release over. He slows and I regain my breathing.
“That was fucking gorgeous. Let’s do it again.” He lets go of my knees but positions himself between my legs so I can’t close them.
My head flops around on the pillow, unable to answer. I mumble incoherent words as Cyrus shimmies down his shiny athletic pants. He takes his boxers with them, and when his palm
is free, his shaft bobs against the bottom of his stomach.
Holy shit. This is really happening. I’m going to have sex with Cyrus. My best friend Cyrus. My panic must show because he leans down, putting us forehead to forehead.
His lips rustle against my skin and he whispers, “I’ve got you. It’s gonna be okay.”
“I know it’s just…”
“This is crazy?” he asks with a smile. “How am I doing so far?”
Oh my God. Only Cyrus would ask how he’s doing halfway through sex.
I smile even though I don’t want to. I shouldn’t reward his behavior. “Good. You’re doing well.”
“Only good? I have to try harder.” He nods toward the nightstand as his hands cup my hips, his thumbs rubbing circles on my pubic line. “Get a condom from the nightstand.”
The drawer sticks, forcing me to yank on it harder — the shoddy construction of an athlete hall piece of furniture. Inside is a strip of condoms, the Gold Medal Winter Games logo stamped on the outside. “You use these things?”
Athletes are given a welcome bag when we get here, and they always include a strip of condoms. They also pass them out from fish bowls in the cafeteria. It becomes a big joke we talk about that most spectators never know. I’ve never tried to use one. I’ve always considered them on the same level as joke condoms. They’re one step up from tasting like pineapple or glowing in the dark. My roommate and I blew ours up and hung them from the shower in our bathroom.
“It’s all I have right now. I didn’t really come prepared for this possibility.” He takes the strip from me.
The room grows quiet as Cyrus tears open the condom wrapper. He strokes himself a few times before pushing the condom over his length.
I use a deep breath to calm my breathing as he centers his body over mine. He slips the tip in easily but stops at the first sign of resistance. Cyrus stares down, our eyes locking together.
“Breathe, Charlie.” He kisses me softly and delicately. The rest of him slips inside as I wrap my hands around his neck, bringing him closer and silently begging him to move.
When he does, the rhythm is much too slow and leisurely for my liking. “Go faster,” I say biting his bottom lip.
Cyrus leans away. With his body perpendicular to mine, he lifts my butt slightly higher in the air, giving himself better purchase. His thrusts increase and he uses his thumb to rub against my exposed clit.
“I can’t come again,” I say when the touch of his fingers causes my skin to tingle up to my arms. I’ve never had two orgasms.
He snickers, his head shaking. “You are definitely going to come again.”
It’s not possible. I open my mouth to explain, but he quickly leans forward and places his lips on the corner of my mouth, kissing softly. The pressure of his fingers increases and I pull his body closer with my hands and arms wrapped around his back. Even though my mind continues to tell me I’ve never had two orgasms this close together, my body tingles and vibrates. My back arches, my legs stiffening, and I push myself closer to the ceiling with each of his thrust. My body is searching out another release.
“Oh God.” I push my head back into the pillow and grab his hair at the back of his head. My back arches up, my shoulders coming off the mattress. “Fuck.” The word carries through the room as I stretch the one syllable out for the length of my orgasm.
“Fuck is right.” Cyrus leans over my body his chest against mine. He kisses my neck, biting the skin as he slams into me one last time before spilling his release into the condom.
His breathing is labored, matching mine when he stops. He doesn’t pull out and roll over like most men have done in my past. Cyrus keeps his position. Our noses touch, and he kisses me quickly, a few short pecks with our lips barely meeting.
“I love you,” he says before one final kiss. This one lasts a second longer, but not enough. He pulls out, rolls the condom up, and tosses it into a trashcan under his bed table.
I can’t believe Cyrus is saying he loves me again.
I can’t believe I had the best sex of my life with my best friend. Lost in my own little bubble of haze and excitement, I don’t struggle as he pulls the covers from the bed and wraps them around my naked body. He stretches out beside me, drawing me into a spooning cuddle position. Another thing I never thought I’d ever have the opportunity to do…cuddle with Cyrus.
I’m almost as tall as he is, but he slides his body down and continues to kiss along my back and shoulder. His thumb rubs circles on my hip, but doesn’t move in either direction besides resting on top.
“Oh, and Charlie…” he says piling my hair up and over the pillow. “We’re definitely doing this couple thing.”
He can’t see it from his position behind me, but I smile, my lips stretching across my face in probably the happiest moment I’ve ever had. Even better than winning a silver medal. “Yup.”
CHAPTER SIX
“You’re stealing the covers, Cyrus.” I tug on the small amount of sheet wrapped around my shoulder.
He tugs it back. “You don’t need covers. Just stay close to me and I’ll keep you warm.”
“This is so weird.” I roll over to face him only to find his eyes shut, refusing to greet the day.
My freak-out would be much greater in proportion if I hadn’t lain here, wide awake for the last three minutes, analyzing everything that’s happened over the last twelve hours or so. I’m pretty sure Cyrus and I are in a relationship. We had the practice sex and it was great. Then we did it again to make sure it wasn’t a one-time fluke.
It wasn’t.
“It’s only weird because you’re overthinking it.”
“Of course I’m overthinking it. That’s what I do.” I tug on the covers again, but this time more to annoy him than actually get covers.
He smiles, still not opening an eye. “I know.”
How annoying. He’ll be this smug for a while. Completely unbearable.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” If I can get him out of this bed, I can roll over and snuggle in the covers without interference.
“Yes. I’m going to take you to breakfast.”
Breakfast?
“Where?” Cyrus really does have important stuff to do today. I’m not quite sure there’s a ton of time to be out looking for breakfast.
His smile falls when he comes to the same conclusion. “The athletes’ cafeteria.”
“How romantic.”
“It is.” Now he opens an eye to glare at me. “A healthy breakfast is the most important part of the day. I’m starting you off on the best foot possible.”
It’s a little too early for me to be engaging in a game of wits against Cyrus, but I plan to fake it. Make some snotty comment about finding one of the servers cute or something, but my plans are waylaid when Cyrus’ phone rings.
“Are you going to answer your phone?” I ask when he doesn’t move.
“No,” he says closing his eye. “It’s not my phone.”
Oh shit. He’s right. It’s mine.
Thankfully, last night after we took a break to eat dinner, I ran by my room and grabbed my charger to plug it in here. “It’s my mother.”
“Of course it is. She has to make sure you’re alive at least twice a day. What do you expect?” He laughs, enjoying my torture.
I scowl, but it doesn’t do any good since we’re so close. Cyrus has always enjoyed laughing at me over my mother’s crazy behavior from afar, but what he doesn’t understand is that if we’re dating, she’ll consider him even more of a son. He thinks she mothers him now. I can’t wait to see what it’s like once this cat is out of the bag.
“Hello,” I say pretending like I don’t know it’s my mother on the other line.
She doesn’t waste any time… as usual. “Charlie, where are you?”
“In my room.”
“We’re at your room.” Her voice rises. “I’ve been knocking for five minutes. We wanted to take you to breakfast.”
Oh crap.
>
“I mean I was in my room. Now I’m in Cyrus’ room. He wanted to go to breakfast in the cafeteria.” I nudge him hard in his shoulder.
“Oww.” He rubs at the space, but since his eyes aren’t open, I know I didn’t do any real damage.
“That’s great. We’ll eat breakfast with both of you. Are you on your way there now?”
Considering Cyrus is still in bed, partially covered with a sheet, the correct answer would be no. We’re not our way. I can’t tell my mother we’ll be right there. But if I go out like this, she’ll want to know why my hair is a rat’s nest and I don’t have any fresh clothes.
“No, I’m waiting on Cyrus. You know how he is.” I hit him again with my elbow. “He’s like a woman, taking forever to get ready.”
That works and finally for the first time, he opens both his eyes to shoot me with an annoyed expression.
“Well hurry up. Your father thinks he’s starving.”
“Okay, Mom. We’ll meet you there…soon.”
“Yes, but remember we can’t get in without you. It’s absolutely horrible they won’t let a parent in unless there’s a sponsor with them. So tell Cyrus to put some gel in his hair and hurry up.”
“Okay. We’ll be right there. Gotta go.” I quickly hit the end button on the phone and toss it on the nightstand. There is no other way to get her to stop talking.
I wiggle my way out of the bed, hoping Cyrus will follow, but all he does is use the opportunity to steal the last of the covers. Wrapping them around his shoulder, he cloaks himself in the material.
“Get up. I have to use your shower.” I yank on the covers to no avail.
He rolls over. “You don’t have time to shower. Your dad is hungry.” He laughs. Have I also mentioned my mother talks ridiculously loudly on the phone?
“They expect to see you too. How can I explain I was in your room if you don’t come to breakfast?”
He shrugs. “I tripped and broke a leg?”
“Very funny. Don’t laugh about breaking legs.” I slide open the door of his closet, and the heavy wooden piece slides off of the tracking to fall against the door behind it. “I have to steal one of your shirts.”
His Last Hill Page 4