His mouth is like the rest of him. Warm and soft and wet.
“It hurts being alone in my body, alpha.” He holds eye contact pointedly, as if to distract me from his actions. “I don’t like it.”
He dips my hand into the water, smiling sweetly, though a little line of concentration forms between his brows as he guides my fingers into his body with a single deep thrust.
I shouldn’t be letting him do this. I know that. His hole has already taken a beating, and his heat has barely even begun. Ican’t refuse him this, though, because, well, I can’t refuse him anything.
His head drops back, neck curving as I stroke the hot spot inside him. The noises he makes are more than sex. They’re happy and smug and so fucking adorable I can hardly stand it.
“Jensen,” I say softly, “have I ever told you that I find you utterly adorable?”
His eyes meet mine and a gentle warmth spills out of him. “Have I ever told you I find you utterlysexy?” He drags the word out until the sibilant sounds take on a life of their own. “’Cause I do, alpha. I find you so sexy, but…” He exhales wistfully. “I find you sweet too. I find you so sweet that my heart can hardly take it. All this”—he waves in the general direction of my face—“is a lot. But to me, it’s not the most interesting thing about you. Not even close. I want to be with you all the time because of”—his hand trails down, fingertips glancing my neck and coming to rest over my heart—“what’s in here.”
Speaking of hearts hardly being able to take things, mine feels set to burst right now. I’m not sure how he knows that I need to be seen for more than my sensual side, but he does, and I do. A bright, light bubble expands in my chest, swelling so much that my chest aches. I’m filled with so much affection, so much fondness that I can’t contain it. It has to go somewhere.
“I love you, my mouse.” The words spill from my lips as though saying them is the most natural thing ever. As though they’ve always existed inside me and simply haven’t found their way to light before now.
His eyes well and he holds my wrist a little tighter. His expression softens and his muscle flutters around my fingers.
“I love you too, alpha,” he cries as pleasure washes over him.
33
Alfie
Iwakeintheearly hours and sense at once that something has changed. There’s a kind of peace in the room, a calm that reminds me of the eye of a storm. Jensen sits on the edge of the mattress, legs curled away from me. A pretty pose for a pretty boy. The curtains have been pulled open a bit, and there’s a blue line of moonlight highlighting his profile that makes him look ethereal. I don’t say a word or give any sign that I’ve woken. I simply watch in wonder as the hope that shattered years ago is slowly and painstakingly knitted back together.
Jensen is looking down at the velvet box in his hands with a small smile. He runs his fingertips over the lid, stroking the velvet against the grain, and then smoothing it down again. His Adam’s apple bobs, sticking for a moment before traveling down the column of his throat. Then, he pries the box open. His chin dips and his free hand comes up to his mouth. His fingers curl against his lips and a gentle apostrophe is carved into his cheek.
He lifts the necklace out of the jewelry box and lets the moonlight reflect off each stone in turn. He struggles with the clasp, and I let him, but only because I know it’s the last time I’ll ever let him struggle with anything in my presence.
This moment is his, and I want him to have it.
The next one is mine.
And the one after that will belong to both of us.
He looks down as he fixes the clasp and trails his fingers lightly over the gemstones once the necklace is fixed around his neck. When he turns to me, there’s a tranquil lack of surprise in his eyes that lets me know he’s been aware of me watching him for a while.
He moves toward me through a series of dreams I’ve had of this moment. Boyhood dreams, romantic and naïve in their innocence. A young man’s dreams, steamy and incredibly raunchy. Fragile, torn remnants of broken dreams I spent years trying to bury. He moves through all of them like it’s easy, and when he gets to me, he throws a leg over mine and straddles me.
My hands move to his hips like they’ve always belonged there.
“Jensen.” My voice quivers and cracks.
The moment has burst into full color, and I’m suddenly starkly aware of how momentous it is. My eyes sting as every good emotion I’ve ever felt rises in me. This is nothing like what I thought it would be. Jensen is in heat. His pupils are dilated, his eyelids swollen and heavy, yet he doesn’t look wild or out of control. He looks peaceful and sure.
He leans his forehead against mine, cradling my head in his hands, offering me a limitless kind of comfort I didn’t know existed. I tilt my face up to kiss him as I allow myself to receive it. When my lips brush against his again, hot tears spill over and run down my cheeks.
He wipes them away the same way he does everything, with care. With consideration and an innate understanding of who I am.
When I dreamed of this moment, I imagined myself checking on him. I thought I’d ask him over and over if he’s positive this is what he wants. Now that I’m here, I innately understand that it’s not necessary. There’s an unshakable set to Jensen’s eyes. His body is experiencing the rigors of heat, but his mind is clear and made up.
He is sure of me.
He’s as sure of me as I am of him.
Our kiss deepens in slow, distinct stages. Water swirling in the shallows at first, gradually flowing and swelling into a crest that’s bigger than both of us. Jensen moans softly when I penetrate him, and I grunt in pleasure as I slide into his endless depths. We move together, hips, chests, lungs, hearts, all arching and straining to get closer to each other.
