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“I worry sometimes you won’t want me anymore when I’m not walking around with a dark cloud over my head.”
“I’m worried you won’t want me anymore when I have a normal amount of money.”
“Lucky I only ever wanted you for your body,” I say.
A sigh shivers out of him. “Truth is, I’ll take you any way I can get you.”
“I’ve gathered that.” And it’s been one of the most healing epiphanies of my life. Not a Band-Aid, or a temporary fix, or a way to cope. My ever-growing certainty about what we mean to each other mends my shredded soul.
It would have been so easy for him to drop me off at that treatment facility and never look back. But that wasn’t what he did. He spent his honeymoon with me out here in the sticks for the privilege of being able to see me for an hour nearly every day. I know without a doubt I’d do the same for him.
What he did that pushed him over the top as the man I’m determined to spend the rest of my life with was sacrificing two of those days for my mother to visit.
Seeing her—going to therapy with her—allowed me to process some of my guilt over not being closer to my father. I’m sad about it. I have regrets. But the guilt has eased. For the first time in my life, I was able to firmly grasp her love for me, not as a given, but as a real living thing specific to me and the man I am. Yes, I came out to her. I wanted to. I needed to. Things are going to be different now.
“If we get bedbugs…”
I shut Olivier up with a kiss that’s as long and deep as it is salacious.“Who says we need to use the bed?” I ask as I back him up against the wall.
“Fuck, I missed you so much.”
To the casual viewer, it might look like a quickie against a wall. But for me, and for him I think, too, when I slide my aching cock inside his hot, tight hole and attach my mouth to his for the duration, we’re making love. It does go by fast—too fast—because it’s been almost a month, but this stop is only meant to hold us over until we get home.
Yet, as I swallow his whimpers and groans and shove my need repeatedly into the snug channel of his ass, our chemistry—our connection—becomes something I can feel as strongly as if there were literal ropes binding us together.
He comes on a particularly deep thrust as my tongue sweeps across his, and I follow him blindly into the abyss. Hips stuttering, mind-blown, body fully electrified.
“God. God…” he groans as we continue to gush cum.
“Love you,” I whisper, panting against his sweaty neck.
“Drew…fuck…”
“I love you so much.”
He locks his arms around my back and sobs. He’s wrecked, and he’s been holding it in a while now—being strong for me. I had a feeling.
“It’s okay,” I assure him. “We made it.”
He nods, continuing to cry on my shoulder.
It’s not until we’re back in the car half an hour later, that he reaches across the console for my hand as we merge onto the highway that will take us back to the city. “I love you, too. More than literally anything.”
Yeah. I duck my head and squeeze his hand. I had a feeling about that, too.
51
OLIVIER
JUNE
Jefferson opens the door to my parents’ apartment and greets me like I was just here last week, and it hasn’t been nearly six months.
“Monsieur Arnaud. Madame.” He nods formally at Elodie on my arm, and then his gaze travels to the man standing behind us. “Your guest?”
“Yes, Drew is our guest,” I say and lead the way into the penthouse.
Drew’s hand rests on my lower back briefly, grounding me. I’m not overly anxious, but I think I’m appropriately on edge.
