Sliding my hands under the waistband, I draw my shorts down a couple of inches and stop. The top of my manscaped pubic hair is visible now, but nothing else.

I watch Becca carefully, waiting for any signs that she’s uncomfortable, that this is a horrible idea and I should slam on the brakes. But she bites her lip, her eyes wide as though she’s waiting to unwrap a long-awaited Christmas present.

Fuck it. I’m already going to hell anyway, so I might as well fast-track this ride. I shove the shorts the rest of the way down until gravity does the rest and they drop to my ankles.

Thank fucking God I’m soft.

It’s not a wish I’ve ever made in the presence of a beautiful woman before, but right now, I’m extremely thankful that my cock is, well, mostly soft. Our conversation over the past few minutes excited me for reasons unknown, but I managed to contain myself, for the most part. My dick hangs heavily beside my thigh, only slightly swollen in interest.

Becca leans closer. “Oh. That’s . . .” She swallows, her gaze still glued to my crotch, and I’d give anything to know what she’s thinking. “That’s interesting,” she finally says.

Interesting? My eyebrows shoot up. Not exactly what I wanted to hear. “Interesting?” I echo.

She nods, leaning closer. “It’s just not what I was expecting.”

I can’t ask her what she was expecting, because the words lodge in my throat as she moves closer to the edge of the bed where I’m standing.

“May I?”

When she reaches toward me, I freeze. She isn’t serious, is she?

“I can’t see the whole thing.”

Confused, I glance at myself to see it’s lying down, covering my balls. I have no fucking idea what she intends to do, but I find myself nodding.

What.

The.

Actual.

Fuck.

Owen.

Carefully, like she’s cradling a newborn puppy and not a dick—the dick attached to one of her best friends, mind you—Becca lifts it in her hand.

The second I feel her warm palm against me, I start hardening, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. She’s touching me, and my body doesn’t seem to know the difference. It’s game fucking on.

I count backward from a hundred and pinch the bridge of my nose with two fingers, inhaling a huge shuddering breath. “Hurry up. Your ten seconds are almost done,” I hiss out.

The warmth of her delicate hand is shattering my self-control. I know this should feel weird and wrong, but it doesn’t. Not at all. I hate that it doesn’t. I need to put a stop to this, but apparently I suck at saying no to her.

I dare a glance down at Becca, and she’s looking at me in wonder. “Oh, it’s, um . . .” She lets out a nervous chuckle, her hand still gingerly wrapped around me. “It’s getting harder.”

I release a slow exhale, pressing the heel of my palm to my forehead. “Yeah, there’s a woman touching it, in case you didn’t notice.”

“Oh, right.” She drops me immediately and holds up both hands, her palms facing me. “Sorry. I’m done now.”

I tug up my shorts and tuck my now fully erect dick behind the waistband. Just fucking fantastic.

I pull back the sheet on my bed and gesture for her to climb in. When she does, I pull the blankets up over her, tucking her in securely like my mom used to do to me when I was little.

“Get some sleep.” I turn off the lamp beside my bed, leaving only a small sliver of light peeking in under the door from the hallway.

As I make my way to the door, she yawns and then whispers, “Thanks, Owen. You’re the best. That didn’t even freak me out, so I think you definitely helped me.”

My heart squeezes again, and I nod in her direction. “Good night, angel.”

Outside in the hall, I close the door to my bedroom and lean up against it. My head falls back with a thud, and I close my eyes.

Fucking hell.

I can’t believe that just happened. I can’t believe I let that happen. I can’t believe how fucking good her hand felt. Fuck.

Voices come from Justin’s bedroom, and I realize that he and Elise are talking. The door is open, so I stop as I walk past, leaning against the door frame to peer in at them.

“Hey,” I say softly.

Elise looks at me and apparently reads something in my expression. “What’s wrong? Is Becca okay?”

Define okay? I rake one hand through my hair and blow out a sigh. “Can I talk to you?”

“Sure,” my younger sister says, her voice a little uneasy like she already knows something’s wrong. She’s too damn perceptive for her own good.

She follows me out into the hall but I keep going, heading toward the media room, which thankfully is now empty. I doubt Becca would want anyone to overhear this conversation, and I intend to make sure we have privacy. We enter, and I take a seat on the couch while Elise remains standing.

I search for the right words to say as she looks down at me expectantly.

So, Becca just touched my dick . . .

Yeah, that’s not going to work.

“What happened? You’re freaking me out,” Elise snaps.

Stalling, I lick my lips, still in complete shock about what just happened in my room. God, I can still feel the warmth of Becca’s hand if I close my eyes.