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"Thank you for listening to me."
"Thank you for telling me."
15
CAYMAN
I settled my chin into the nape of Mitchell’s neck, my arms clinging to him tightly. It was too early to get up, too early to move away from him, but it seemed that my internal alarm clock hadn’t received that message.
I let out a quiet yawn, trying to remain as still as possible. Mitchell wiggled against my body, letting out a noisy breath before settling into the deep sleep I had no intention of waking him up from.
How we’d fallen asleep—with him in my arms—was how we’d stayed all night. And how we’d stay forever if I had any say in the matter.
The sex had been incredible. He might have displayed all the outward signs of a sweet boy-next-door type, but that didn’t stop him from being completely free and wild with me. He knew exactly what he wanted as he rode my cock, and he wasn’t shy about shouting it out at the top of his lungs, either.
Good thing Leo had soundproofed all of the rooms during the remodel. We sure put that to the test last night.
My cock started to thicken at the memory. I pressed it into his crack, just a little, enough for him to feel my presence, but not enough to wake him.
Despite our physical intimacy being full-on amazing, it was the thing he had told me afterward—the sad and horrific story of what those three guys had put him through that made me want to track them all down and acquaint them with my fists—that lingered with me the strongest.
Because it crystallized what I felt for Mitchell. This wasn't some casual weekend fling for me. Some flirting, some fucking, and then an awkward goodbye.
And I got the sense that this wasn’t some meaningless thing for him, either.
That part filled my chest with a lovely glow—it was the what the hell happens now part that left me feeling confused as all fuck.
If we’d had more time together, gotten to know each other better, maybe it would have been different. Or would it? Maybe it was a case of when you knew you knew?
Because I did. I one hundred percent, for sure knew that I wanted to be with Mitchell.
But how?
Where?
What would it look like?
What was it that we were even dealing with here?
I sighed a little too loudly, sensing Mitchell stir as I cursed the cold, harsh reality we faced.
I carefully peeled my body off his and got up to have a shower. As the warm water fell on my tight, burdened shoulders, my mind continued to race in the hope of discovering some way of making what was happening between Mitch and I work.
But I kept coming up with nothing. My life was here in Florida. He lived on the other side of the country in California.
He had a simple—and by the sounds of it—happy life with a stable job, family, and friends.
I was the last thing from simple, stable...or happy.
I turned the water off and dried myself, wrapping the towel around my waist before heading back into the room.
Mitchell was still asleep as I collected the clothes I’d been wearing last night and sneaked out of the room, closing the bedroom door quietly behind me as I left.
"Oh. My. God. What are you watching?"
I nearly jumped out of my skin in fright as Mitchell’s voice rang out behind me.
"Uh, nothing." I pointed the remote at the TV and turned it off quickly as Mitchell made his way around to join me on the couch.
