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“Are you willing to counteroffer?” she asks, pressing her lips against my neck, making me second-guess myself. “Or perhaps a compromise?”

I groan. “There’s really no compromising when it comes to having or not having sex.”

“Well, what kind of sex are we talking about? Oral? Penetration? Anal?”

“Jesus Christ,” I choke out. “All kinds. Well, maybe not oral.” I grin.

She pulls back, and from the glow of the moon and streetlights, I can see the outline of her face. “You’re killing me here.”

I tilt my head and smile. “It’ll be worth it.”

She sighs. “If I were a guy, I’d have the biggest case of blue balls right now.”

Nodding, I say, “Trust me, I know. My whole body feels blue right now.”

She laughs and we lie back on her pillows, her head resting under my chin. She places her arm over my chest and begins tracing over my tattoo.

“I’ve always wondered about this one,” she says, following the music notes that run from the top of my shoulder down to the middle of my pec. “Is there a significant meaning to it?”

I nod, smiling as I remember all the work that went into the finished product. “A buddy of mine sketched it out for me junior year of college.” The treble clef is formed into a crazy eight design with four sets of notes on it. “He was obsessed with the song Highway to Hell and played it constantly when he would study for a big test, and at first it was annoying as fuck, but then it started amping me up and making me feel really good. Once I started training harder in the gym, I’d play that song to get fired up. It was the first time music inspired my decision to go to the police academy after graduation. So, I told him I needed a music drawing for a tattoo, and once he finished, I had it done.”

“I’ve never heard you play that song before,” she says, tracing her finger over one of the notes.

“I only listen to it when I’m lifting weights at the gym or running. It’s a good song to get pumped up to.”

“Hm…good to know. Maybe I’ll play it when I’m doing my yoga.”

I chuckle, part of me certain she’s still tipsy. I move to my side and face her, brushing the hair off her forehead and seeing how tired her eyes look. “You should get some sleep. Tomorrow’s a workday, after all.” I grin.

“And it’s Friday,” she adds, looking up at me. “You still going to bring me lunch, Deputy?”

“It’s my favorite part of the week.” I kiss her forehead. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

COURTNEY

Waking up in Drew’s arms is a feeling I can’t quite describe. We stayed up talking, and when we weren’t talking, we were kissing and touching, and when things got too heated, he’d pull back and redirect us. I understand the reasoning of not wanting to rush things; I don’t want to feel like a rebound considering they were dating just a couple weeks ago, but being around him makes me want to do things to him. Bad things.

But I trust him, and the logical part of me knows we’re being smart. However, the not so logical part of me wants to rip my clothes off and test his true willpower.

I know in my heart that if this is what it takes to build a solid relationship with him, I’ll play by his rules. For now. But that doesn’t mean I have to make it easy for him.

Getting out of bed for work is nearly impossible. Drew’s hair is sprawled over my pillow, and his body is so close to mine, I can feel the warmth from his skin.

“You’re going to be late,” he mutters, his eyes staying closed. His lips turn up into a knowing smirk.

“I hate you so much right now,” I groan, crawling back into his side.

“Lies,” he teases. “You’re thinking of ways to get me naked right now.”

“Well, I’ve been doing that for the past three years,” I admit. “However, a joint shower wouldn’t break any rules.” I glance at him and grin. “You said no sex. You never said we couldn’t be naked at the same time.”

He coughs out in laughter and rolls over to his side, facing me. “I figured it was implied.”

“Well, implied or not, there were no rules saying I couldn’t be naked.” My lips tilt up as he arches a brow at me. I sit up, kneeling on the bed and pull my shirt off, revealing the black lacy bra underneath. He lays on the bed, his arms folded behind his head with ankles crossed as he enjoys the show.

“There. Now we’re even,” I say. We can both be shirtless and suffer.

“All right.” He begins unbuttoning his jeans. “I can play this game, too.” He pulls them all the way off and kicks them to the floor.