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I'm considering waiting outside for half an hour, so I don’t unnerve him, but I’m too desperate to see my boyfriend’s flat.
I'm so fucking addicted to the word ‘boyfriend’, though. I literally want to buy him a name tag that says ‘Luca’s boyfriend’ so every single bastard knows how special he is to me.
After all the buildup of getting to his place, I didn't think I'd crumple at the first hurdle. Because there's a wreath on his front door. A braided wooden wreath hanging bold against the dark green wood with a tiny yellow bird perched on the bottom. And it’s peering at me like Thorn does every time I go down on him, wide-eyed, as if he can’t believe it’s happening to him.
I can tell this is going to be a struggle.
Taking a deep breath, I knock, a gentle rap which echoes out in the cosily lit hallway around me.
He’s told me nothing about his place apart from his address, so I'm just staring at this wreath, trying not to freak out over the fact my boyfriend is so fucking cute. And I haven’t even stepped through the front door.
I'm grinning by the time the lock clicks. The door opens a crack, but not enough for me to see him.
“You came early,” he says flatly.
“Yeah, is that alright? I sent you a text. Did you get it? I can always hang out here for half an hour if you want?” I’m slipping into rambling territory already.
“No, I got the text…” There’s a stupidly long pause and before he replies. “It’s okay…”
It really doesn’t sound okay. The door opens further, revealing his dark hair as he straightens up and the gap widens. I shift my weight from foot to foot, so close to just shoving the door open so I can leap inside.
When the gap finally opens, the sight of him hits me so hard I nearly fall over.
“You’re-” I choke, swallowing my amazement as my gaze zeroes in on Thorn’s face. “You’re wearing glasses.” I say, my voice quivering as my bottom lip drops at the pure gorgeousness that is my boyfriend.
I'm not even through the door and he's already swept me off my feet.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Thorn jerks as he quickly lifts a hand to his cheek. He gets that panicked look on his face when he thinks I'm upset, but it's so fucking far from the truth I can't believe it even crosses his mind. I literally care about nothing else right now than seeing thick-rimmed glasses riding the bridge of his long nose.
Until he steps back, opening the door fully, and I gasp. My hand shoots out, slamming against the door frame to hold myself up as I take in the fucking glory of Thorn in an apron. Not just an apron, a black apron emblazoned with a white cartoon kitten surrounded by pink love hearts.
My other hand clamps into a tight ball as I suck down my need to leap on him. I told myself we’d at least eat before we fucked, but holy shit, I don’t know how I'm going to hold back when he looks like this.
Every time we meet up, he's always dressed immaculately. Designer brands and styled hair, and he has a super intense obsession with moisturiser. Whenever we stay at a hotel, he spends at least half an hour making sure he looks like a ‘real’ model before we leave. It’s so rare for him to be dressed casually that I’m straight up panting over him like a dog.
“I didn't have time to change.” Thorn's throat bobs as his gaze slides from mine. “Do you mind waiting?”
“Not a fucking chance,” I say, mooning over all six-feet-five of him. Black sweats, a grey T and bare feet, topped off with his cute-ass apron hugging his thick hips. Yeah, he's only getting out of those clothes when I rip them off.
His eyes widen in surprise, and I bite the inside of my cheek as I realise I've come on too strong. I need to calm the fuck down.
“Thorn, baby, you look so fucking sexy right now. Honestly, you know how much I love seeing you all ruffled up.” Though it was usually either during or after sex. “Now, come on, are you going to invite me in?”
He bites his bottom lip, and I nearly moan. Shy Thorn is one thing. Shy Thorn in an apron and glasses is on a whole other level.
“So, would…” He clears his throat, pink scattering his cheeks as he shuffles from one foot to the other. “Would you like to come in?”
Of course I fucking would. Why does he think I’d come?
“That would be great, yeah,” I say instead, lightening my smile, hoping I don't look like a lunatic. My eye is already starting to twitch.
Thorn disappears behind the door as he steps aside, letting me pass. I come to a sudden stop the moment I stand next to him, chest tight, my clenched fist growing numb as my nails dig into my palm and I try to fucking breathe.
I’ve always wanted to know what kind of place Thorn lived in. Before our Calvin Klein shoot, I used to think he had no taste, that he probably lived in a beige box with beige furniture, beige pictures hanging on the wall and fucking beige clothes. My idea’s changed now I know how much he loves to cuddle, which I am totally on board with. Maybe pastel pillows and soft throws, a recliner by the window so he can silently admire the skyline and contemplate life with a book or crossword or something else serene and uncomplicated.
What I didn’t expect was an entire fucking jungle.
“Sorry,” he mumbles from behind me. “It’s a bit messy.” He carefully closes the door before silently standing next to me. All while my mind is fucking blowing.
