I sleep without underwear all the time, but it's different doing it knowing Drew is going to be pressed against me. Knowing his hands—

I'm getting ahead of myself. I take a quick shower, brush my teeth, and change into my normal pajamas: a tank top and cotton drawstring pants. Not the sexiest thing, but they're comfortable.

Drew joins me a few minutes later. He's wet and warm, fresh from the shower. And he's shirtless, wearing only a pair of cotton pajama pants.

"You really sleep like that?" I ask.

"Unless it's cold." He scoots next to me, so he's spooning me. His hand traces the neckline of my tank top as if feeling for a bra.

"Drew," I groan, shifting my body against his. He smells like soap. "What are you doing?"

"Keeping you honest." His fingers trace the edges of my pajama pants. They dip inside lower and lower.

Almost there.

Then his fingertips skim my clit.

Damn.

"I want to ask you something." He presses his body against mine.

"Right now?"

"You want me to stop?" He pulls his hand back to my belly button.

"I didn't say that."

He chuckles. "It's relevant to the subject at hand."

"You're trying to kill me."

"Yeah." He scrapes his teeth against my neck. "Do you ever fantasize about me?"

"So not going there."

"That's a yes."

Obviously it's a yes. I turn so I'm facing him. "Do you ever fantasize about me?"

"All the time." His hand goes to my hip. "I go out of my mind."

"Do you..." I take a deep breath. I want an answer to this so badly. I've never thought about another guy like this. Never wondered how he thought of me or if he— "Do you touch yourself?"

"You're ridding right?"

"No." I stammer. "What's funny about that?"

"A million times."

My sex clenches. Drew really thinks of me that much? He wants me that much? "Really?"

"Fuck yeah. You have any idea how sexy you are?" He yanks the strap of my tank top off my shoulders as if he's proving his point.

I relax into his touch, groaning as he toys with my nipple. He sucks on my neck, shifting his crotch against mine so I can feel his erection.

Drew shifts me so I'm lying on my back. He leans on his elbow. His eyes meet mine. "You ever touch yourself thinking about me?"

"Not a million times."

"A hundred thousand?"

"No."

"A thousand?"

My cheeks burn. I avert my gaze to the ceiling.

"Fuck. I have a lot of catching up to do." He presses his lips to mine. "You have to show me sometime."

"Is it really that interesting?"

"Fuck yes." He pulls my other strap off my shoulder and rolls my tank to my stomach. He drags his hand to my other nipple, teasing me. "What do you think about when you touch yourself?"

"You mean when it's about you?"

"You thinking about other guys?"

I shake my head. "Not for a long time." I look up at Drew. His eyes are fixed on me like he's hanging on every word. This is a whole other level of intimacy, but I want that with him. I take a deep breath. "You touching me or inside of me." My cheeks burn. "Or things I want to do to you."

"Like what?"

I can't say this aloud. It's too much. But it's not like he's going to complain.

I make eye contact. "You're making this difficult."

He smiles. "Chose those words carefully, didn't you?"

I shift, straddling him so I'm on top, looking down at him. Here goes nothing. "I want to suck you off."

His eyes go wide. "I want to watch you touch yourself after."

"You're not in a position to make demands."

He brings his hand to the back of my head and presses me into a deep kiss. "Not a demand. A request. After."

"After." I grind against him.

I drag my hands over his chest and stomach. His body is so hard and defined and there's something so pleasing about the way it feels against my palm, like it was meant for it.

My hands brush the soft hairs below his belly button. He shudders, his hips rocking against me. I go lower, lower, until I'm at his waistband.

Lower. I rub him over his pajamas.

Drew groans into my mouth. He digs his fingers into my chest, squeezing my nipples.

I pull off his bottoms. Drew lifts his hips to help me. Then they're at his knees and off his feet. Then it's just him.

Something in Drew turns on, something animal. His pupils dilate. His breath gets heavy. He pulls the top over my head and tosses it on the floor in one desperate movement.

I press my lips against his neck then work my way down. I draw an outline around his chest piece with my tongue. His skin tastes good. Like soap and like Drew.

His hand goes to my hair. It presses gently against the back of my head, ready to guide me to just the right spot.

I drag my hands down his defined stomach. They rest on his hips, and I hold on tight as I position myself.

The muscles of his stomach tense. I flick my tongue against them. Then a little lower. I nibble on skin just below his belly button.

He lets out a desperate groan. Grabs onto my hair a little tighter. He's shaking. He wants me that badly.

He's at my mercy.

I press one hand against the bed to hold myself up. The other, I wrap around him. He's so thick and warm and hard.

I brush my lips against his tip. He shudders, his hand digging into my hair. I do it again and again, until he groans.

I slide my tongue over him, tasting him, testing his reactions.

His eyes close.

I flick my tongue against the underside of his tip. His fingers dig into my hair. That's it. That's the spot.

"Kara," he groans quietly. "Fuck, Kara."

My nipples harden. My sex clenches. The way he says my name—it's magic, it's poetry.

I do it again and again, until he's panting and shaking, until he brings his other hand to my hair. His fingers press against my head, a gentle nudge.

I take him into my mouth. Sucking on his tip at first, then going deeper. He's big. Too big for me to take completely. I wrap my hand around him, using it like an extension of my mouth, so I have all of him under my control.

Drew groans. It's such a great sound—his pleasure—and it's all because of me.

He guides me over him, digging his hands into my hair. I run my tongue over his base as I suck on him.

The ache between my legs tightens. There's something about having Drew in my mouth. It makes me all the more needy, all the more desperate.

I take him deeper.

"Kara," he says my name like it's his favorite thing in the world. "You're so fucking amazing."

He bites his lip. He groans.

I slide my hand from his hip to his ass, digging my fingers into his firm flesh, relaxing the muscles in my throat to push him deeper. Yes. There. I have almost all of him and he feels so good. He tastes so good.

His grip tightens in my hair.

He thrusts into my mouth. I grip him harder. I'm so keyed up, and the sounds escaping his lips are perfect.

"Fuck," he groans. "I'm gonna come."

The muscles of his stomach and thighs clench.

"Kara."

And then he's coming, tugging at my hair, gnawing at his skin.

I press my palm against his stomach to hold myself in place as he fills my mouth. When he's done, I swallow. It's not even a consideration. It's Drew.

He reaches for my hands and pulls me next to him. There's the calmest look on his face, like he can barely remember his own name.

His fingertips slide over my cheek. He stares at me with a mix of appreciation and need. "How the hell did you get so good at that?" His finger hooks on my lower lip, pulling my mouth open a centimeter or so. "Don't tell me if it's anything besides blind intuition."

"I'm not, I... thanks."

His lips close over mine. He kisses me hard, more desperate than he ever has. When he releases me, he's breathless. "You fantasize about that?"

"Only with you." I hold eye contact, attempting to maintain my confidence. He's gooey with post-orgasm affection. There's no reason to be shy. "I think about anything two people can do together."

"You're fucking amazing." He pulls me into another hard, desperate kiss.

"You can have any woman you want. Must be a line of fans ready to drop to their knees. Who would beg you—"

"I only want you." He teases my nipples until I groan. "I fucking love that sound." He pulls my pajamas to my feet. "You still game?"

"You really want to watch?"

He nods, his eyes wide with enthusiasm.

"I've never had an audience before."

He rolls back to his elbow. His fingertips trail over my breasts. "If you get too self-conscious, I can take over." He pinches my nipple. "But I hope you don't. I fucking love watching you come."

"Okay." I settle into the bed, positioning myself like I would if Drew wasn't here. But he is here. There's no sense in pretending I'm alone, masturbating while I think of him.

I touched myself while we were fucking, but this is different. This is a show.

Nervous energy passes through me. It fades away the second our eyes connect. He's lost in anticipation. He's still at my mercy.

I hold his gaze as I slide my hand down my stomach. I spread my legs wider to give him a better view. It's dark in here. He won't see my scars in high-def.

I go slow, teasing myself with light, long strokes over my outer lips. I stare into his eyes. His attention is on my movements, his mouth hanging open like he's watching his favorite movie.

It's magic. It makes it impossible to go slow. I forget about teasing and bring my fingers to my clit. I need to come. I need to show him how much I want him.

I rub myself. Soft then harder. Then just right. Drew sighs with pleasure. He brings his hands to my cheek and presses his thumb over my lower lip. I groan. Him touching me makes this better. I thrust my chest toward him. It's enough direction. He brings his hand to my breast and toys with my nipple.

Fuck yes.

Pressure builds between my legs. I've done this plenty. I know how to make myself come quickly. But with his eyes glued to me, with his hands on my body, I want to revel in how good it feels.

Every brush of his fingertips sends a pang straight to my sex. The knot pulls tighter and tighter, until it's too much to take. I find just the right spot and keep my pressure steady. There. Almost. My eyelids press together. I groan, arching my back and shifting my hips.

The orgasm is intense. Bliss spreads through my pelvis then my torso then all the way to my fingers.

When I blink my eyes open, Drew is still staring at me with rapt attention.

"Better than I imagined." He presses his lips to mine.

"You imagined that?"

He copies my words. "Not a million times." He pulls my body into his. "But pretty fucking close."

* * *

The light falling over the bed casts Drew in a dreamy glow. It's bright enough that it must be well into mid-morning. I brush my teeth, fix a bowl of cereal and a cup of tea, and sit down with my textbook. There's a lot of weekend left and I want to spend it without schoolwork hanging over my head.

By the time Drew joins me at the table, I'm done with my finance homework.

He kisses me good morning. There's something normal about it. Like we're a regular couple who goes around using the words boyfriend and girlfriend.

He unlocks his phone and shows off his 15 Missed Texts notification.

I read the one in the notification.

Tom: Let me know if you killed anyone. I'll need to start early to keep that out of the news.

Drew shakes his head and taps a few replies. I find my phone and check the damage. Just a few texts from Meg.

Meg: You're gone. Take it things went well? Let me know when you're done fucking Drew.

I keep my reply short and sweet.

Kara: Very well. Will let you know if I'm ever done. I have lots of plans for the weekend. Brunch Sunday?

Meg: Only if we're actually studying. I'm way behind.

Kara: Deal.

I take the last sip of my tea. "Anything bad?"

"Wish they'd mind their own business." He shoves his phone to the other side of the table. His lip corners turn down. He shifts like he's shaking off his funk. "I want to take you to the beach. It's supposed to be ninety today. I know you—"

"I don't go to the beach."

"What if you got a swimsuit that covered your thighs? Not that you should. I recommend one of those Brazilian thongs."

"You'd punch every guy who looked at me."

"I can control myself."

My voice drops. "No. I can't... not yet."

"We don't have to do it today. But if you visit on tour, I always want to get away. We're stopping at a lot of cities near the ocean."

"I don't know."

"I'll go shopping with you."

"You're volunteering to shop?"

"If I get to see you try on swimsuits, fuck yes."

I do miss swimming, and there are options. Long board shorts or swim skirts or somehow channeling all the don't-give-a-fuck in the world and wearing a regular, scar-revealing bikini.

But I'm caught on something else. Drew wants me to visit on tour? He can't deal with talking to his friends about our relationship status and he wants me to visit him on tour. No fucking way.

"When are we telling our friends that we're together?" I ask. "We don't need a label for it. Just... hey, this is a thing. It's not like they don't know."

His eyes go to the floor. "I don't want to invite their commentary. It will only fuck things up."

"You need to tell them before the tour." I press my palm against the table. "It's about a month away, right?"

"Yeah."

"You do realize that everyone knows what's going on, right?"

He shrugs like he finds it plausible that Miles, Tom, or Pete has no clue that Drew and I are more than friends.

Maybe he's right. I'm sure everyone knows we're fucking. But that could be it. It's not like rock stars avoid no-strings-attached sex.

"I put them through hell with Vivian. I don't want them thinking it will be the same with you." He shifts, his expression softening. "After your midterms. That's two weeks, right?"

I nod.

He scoots closer. Runs his fingers over the inside of my wrist, tracing the faint scars. "You don't have to hide these, you know. They're not that noticeable."

"I'm not interested in your opinion on how I should cover or not cover my body."

Drew's lips curl into a smile. "How can you make telling me to fuck off sound so charming?"

"Practice."

He makes eye contact. "I do want to be with you. For a long time."

I push off the table and find my purse. "You don't have to say the word boyfriend. You have two weeks." I slide into my canvas sneakers. "After that, I'm not going to be patient."

"Deal." He shifts to his feet with a nod and follows me out the door.