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“Not tonight,” I said.
She went still. Then she nodded slowly. “Okay.”
I rolled over to face the wall. I don’t know why. I’d wanted this. I’d said yes to this. For three weeks I’d been hard every night thinking about it. And now she was sitting on the edge of our bed smelling of my best friend, and something in me had locked shut.
I felt her lie down behind me, not touching.
“Cal,” she said quietly. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No.”
“Then talk to me.”
“I’m tired, Fi.”
“You’re not tired. I can hear you not being tired.”
She was right. I lay there wide awake, my heart going, my cock still half hard, my head full of the noises I’d heard through the floor. The jealousy and the arousal were so tangled up together that I couldn’t find where one stopped and the other started.
She waited. A long time.
Then I felt her hand on my back. Just resting between my shoulder blades. Warm.
“I love you,” she said. “Nothing that happened down there changes that. Nothing could.”
I didn’t move. Part of me wanted to turn over, pull her into me and ask her for every filthy detail. Part of me wanted to pretend the whole night had never happened.
Her hand stayed where it was, patient, waiting to see which part of me would win.