Rhys's mouth was on my neck and my back was against the couch cushions and his hand was between my thighs and I was approximately thirty seconds from not caring about anything in the known universe when the sound of a key in the lock stopped my heart.
Not a knock. A key. The specific metallic scrape of someone who had access letting themselves in like they belonged here.
Rhys froze. His hand still on me. His body covering mine. Both of us naked – completely, undeniably, naked on his couch at two in the afternoon on a Saturday because we'd started making out during a movie and the movie had become irrelevant approximately eight minutes in.
The door opened.
Miles stood in the doorway. Backpack over one shoulder. Hockey stick in his hand. Thirteen years old and wearing the expression of s
