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Slipping his boxers on, he goes out to the patio and turns off the music. My word, the balcony door was open the entire time. My sex noises probably carried over the water all the way across the bay. Oddly, that feels like some kind of life merit badge.
Sliding the door shut, he turns off the room light and stops on the opposite side of the bed. It’s only a second’s worth of a pause, but he gazes down at me in thought. I wonder what it’s about, but when he slides in next to me, I don’t really care enough anymore to find out. I’m in a bed with Pete, and I don’t have to leave.
My plans to become confident enough to socialize with and make a move with another man seem a distant memory. I know that’s why I sought Pete out, but I received something so much more from our time together. I can breathe. Like really breathe. My lungs moved in and out for the last twenty-five years, but it feels like I just released the first exhale of my entire life.
CHAPTER 19
Pete
I’m a damn madman—the things that come out of my mouth around him… It was pure desperation, desperation to call him my own.
Turning onto my side, I’m no longer surprised by the ever-present need to be near him. My heart trips when he rolls toward me. He’s so close, I can feel his breath. It’s neither good breath nor bad breath, although I don’t consider any breath to be good when it’s in my face. It’s just Cam’s proof of life. I’m mesmerized by any sign of him existing. How can something so perfect exist on the same plane as something so imperfect?
I feel like I’m scrambling on a patch of ice before an imminent fall. Was I the right man to take the gift he just offered? My doubts are too little, too late, I know, but now that I’ve stolen his precious offering, my guilt is punishing me.
“Are you okay?” I ask, noticing his leg shift under the covers.
“Yeah. A little sore, but a good sore.”
Sore? Fuck me and my damn lack of control around him. I tried so hard.
“Trust me.” His fingertips touch my chest like he’s reassuring me. “It’s a good feeling.”
The longer I study it, the more content his smile looks. There’s this glow about him I can’t take my eyes off of. His fingertips trace a lazy line down my chest. His gaze follows them as though he’s enthralled by my proximity.
“Was it what you thought it’d be?” I ask, still terrified of any disappointment he may have experienced.
“Better,” he whispers. “Better than I ever could have imagined.” His smile falters, though, and he starts to draw his hand away. “What about you? Was I…
Covering his hand, I slip my fingers in between his, pressing them against my heartbeat. There should probably be significant emotions I feel about being with a man for the first time. The Pete of a few weeks ago might have analyzed the hell out of what just happened. Right now, the only thing resonating through me at his query, though, is that I know I finally slept with the right person.
“You’re everything I didn’t know I needed.”
I don’t think I’ve ever said anything nearly as romantic to anyone, so I’m not even surprised by the puff of breath that leaves his lips. I’ve put it out there, honestly this time, unclouded by arousal, so I take my chances in case there’s any doubt he thinks I’m just being flattering. Lifting his hand to my lips, I brush a kiss over his knuckles. “I will never be able to tell you how lucky I am that you picked my office to visit that day.”
The look of wonder in his eyes is eclipsed by a grin that splits his face. Chewing his lip, he hedges, “Thanks for clarifying. I kind of wondered if that was just more of your bedroom talk, like that whole ‘you’re-never-going-to-want-anyone-else-but-me-to-fuck-you’ comment.”
It’s said in jest, but I can see the hint of insecurity in his eyes, making my heart ache. Squeezing his hand, I hold my breath and take the plunge. “That’s something you’ll have to decide on your own. I know it’s not what you asked me for that day at my house, but I won’t take it back. I’m not ashamed about not taking it back.”
My stomach flips over, watching his surprise. As I await his reply, I finally understand why people can be such fools in love. My heart is literally balancing on a tightrope.
If I thought he was glowing before, it’s nothing compared to the way his expression transforms as he slides his arms around my neck and kisses me. I’m still in agony, eager to hear if this is just a polite letdown or a reward for saying something he thinks is flirtation, but I wrap my arm around his waist and oblige his mouth.
I’m breathless by the time he finally draws back. He leaves just enough room that our lips are separated, his nose rubbing up against mine.
“I don’t want you to take it back,” he whispers.
My eyes blink stupidly. Am I only hearing what I want to? Smiling, he chuckles and presses another quicker kiss to my dumbfounded lips.
“Easy decision,” he adds. “You’re sexy when you’re bossy, but I think you’re even cuter right now, looking like you don’t believe me.”
His glow is infectious as his playful reassurance drains all my anxiety. The puff of breath that leaves my lips turns into a disbelieving laugh.
I have him. I fucking get Cam.
Drawing him closer, I roll to my back, taking him with me. Sliding my hand into his hair, I pour my joy out into his mouth until he’s panting for breath and chuckling.
We smile at each other like fools for a while, playing an unspoken game of tracing the other’s face for a few moments. It’s like being really seen or meeting the counterpart of one’s soul. When he lays his head down on my chest and lets out a contented sigh, I bask in the bliss of my good fortune. I don’t want to panic now. I don’t want to analyze anything. He’s happy, and I’m happy. I honestly can’t remember ever being this happy. That seems like it should merit living in the moment and not worrying about all the things I’ve done wrong or that could go wrong.
