“God, we’re going to have to run off all this food.”
“Run? Oh, babe, I have other plans for that. Just wait until we get home.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “Sounds like a plan.” His smile fades as he stares out the window. “This has been really nice. Chill. Thanks for inviting me.”
“I’m just glad you came.”
I rest my head on his shoulder for a second as I rinse the soap off a glass, my heart about to burst. This was one of the best Thanksgivings I’ve had.
Chapter 24
Jett
I’vecometolovethis small space above the kitchen. The way the early morning sun caresses my face through the window, and the distant hum of voices from downstairs. Wes is still asleep, his mouth slightly agape as he snores softly. Time is suspended, and I have no idea how long I’ve been awake, just staring at him.
The sleeping version of Wes is such a contrast to when he’s awake. He’s dead to the world, like his body has entered this comatose state. Then, the moment he wakes, he’s vibrant and energetic, ready to face a new day. In many ways, he’s like a kid, carefree and hungry for life, but I know there’s more to him by now, real depth. Being around Wes’ family makes it clear why he is the way he is. Kids only grow into confident adults when they’re loved unconditionally. Although I realized from an early age I didn’t have that, it’s still bittersweet to experience what it should’ve been like and what I was robbed of. Being here with Wes, I’m getting some of it back in small doses.
Wes shifts, and his eyelashes flutter. Soon I’ll be met by a world of blue. The second Wes opens his eyes, going from unfocused to alert, is one of my favorite moments of the day. The sleepy smile that spreads across his face the second he sees me looking at him. My chest becomes too tight to contain my heart. He wiggles his nose, and I smile. He’s so beautiful, his face relaxed, half in shadow, the other half lit by the morning sun.
I’m in love with him. I love Wes. I didn’t think I had it in me. I thought that part of me—the part that could give in and love like that—died on that bathroom floor in Paris. I want to tell him there are pieces of me that aren’t cute and endearing, not worthy of things like hero worship or a scrapbook. They’re ugly and messy. How do I tell him about my shame and failure? Of how I wanted to just cease to exist. How do you tell someone about that?
“Mornin’,” Wes drawls, and there it is, that slow-spreading smile that teases all the emotions from his face. Recognition, happiness, desire. He stretches his arms above his head, then groans. “Perfect day for grilling, huh?”
“Morning, sleepyhead. It is.” I press a kiss against his cheek, then rest my head on his chest. He wraps his arm around me and holds me tight. “I wish we didn’t have to go back tomorrow. I like it here in your little loft.”
Wes yawns as I bury my face in his armpit and breathe him in, the downy hairs tickling my nose. He always smells so damn good in the morning, all male and warm. “I wish we could stay too. I guess I’ll just have to get a house one day, then you can stay in my loft.” He chuckles low in his throat, and my dick takes notice. Being in Wes’ childhood home has been the longest, most torturous foreplay in the history of mankind. My body aches for him.
“Will you be there too? In the loft?”
He smiles against my forehead. “Of course.” He pinches my sides. “I’ll come by with food, keep you well-fed and happy. I’ll fuck you so good. My own little love gremlin in the loft.”
I snort a laugh. “That sounds like one of your romance novels.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” He pauses. “Nah, I’m just kidding. I’d be right there with you all the time.”
All the time.
My chest squeezes at his words. I still find it hard to plan for the future. When I was in the hospital, I lived from second to second. The idea of a future was something I didn’t dare imagine. Wishing for things, like a partner and a family of my own, seemed so far out of reach. Now, suddenly, they don’t.
“I’d like that. I want you to fuck me. Soon.”
Wes sucks in a breath, his pupils blown wide with lust. “Fuck, babe.” He looks down at his hard dick.
Okay, we need a change of topic before all our good intentions fly out the window.
“So, what’s the plan for today?”
Wes waggles his eyebrows. “Well, I assume morning swapsies are off the table?”
“Yes. Behave yourself, Scrapbook Boy.”
Wes gasps. “Excuse me, what?”
“Oh, you didn’t get the overnight memo? You’re Scrapbook Boy now.” I turn my face and bite his nipple.
He winces. “What happened toWilsonor thebest lay of my life?”
“You mean loudest, dontcha?”
