Page 98 of Watched

“What does that mean?”

“I am who I am.”

I smile. “I like that.”

Feeling his movements gathering my hair at the top of my head, I push off his waist and step back.

His head throws back with a laugh, a childish grin eating up his face.

I reach up, feeling the Mohawk. “You’re a child,” I mutter.

He looks at me again before falling backward into the wall, wheezing. “It’s cute.”

“Shut it,” I laugh, stepping under the water to wash it away.

I press the answer button on my steering wheel. “Where the fuck are you?” Rain demands through the speakers.

“I’m almost back.”

“It didn’t spark in that beautiful head of yours to leave me a note, or text, or, I don’t know…wake me the fuck up!”

I wince and turn the volume down a little. “I only went around the corner for a few things, and you were tired, so I let you sleep.”

“I don’t fucking care, Rome! Wake. Me. Up.”

I wind down my window, tapping my card to the scanner to open the gate. “Noted,” I deadpan.

He growls, “Your ass is getting it.”

My dick jumps as I drive through the gate. “I’ll be there in a second.” His angry breaths fill the air around me. “Okayyy,” I emphasise.

“I’m not hanging up until I see you drive in here, and then I’ll bend you over the hood of that car.”

So much for this being a surprise.

He could hardly keep his eyes open once we were in bed last night, but he said, I don’t fall asleep until you do. After he recited that phrase, I found the confidence to tell him I enjoy hearing him breathe while I sleep.

He grinned for the remainder of the shower while I washed him and his hair. Once we were in bed, my back was to his chest, and I turned my ear toward his nose and mouth. He refused that position, stating ten different facts about the repercussions on my neck muscles. I was put on my back, his arm across me, the other under my neck and his mouth against my ear. I then argued about his uncomfortable position, to which he finalised the discussion with, shut that tasty mouth before I do so with my cock.

I was ashamed when my emotions flooded back in. I sobbed in his arms again, but he held me close, peppering my wet eyes and head with soft kisses.

Going to the shop just now was uncomfortable. The young man behind the counter was a fan and apologised for the leaked video. I just smiled and paid for my things, hoping to squash his hope of continuing the conversation. I was thankful for his support, but too focused on subsiding the anxious shaking caused by the eyes of others.

Rain stands at the back of the garage, wearing nothing but white boxers, arms folded across his bare chest, foot tapping. The line disconnects as I drive in and shut off the engine.

He moves toward my door, and I snatch the items from my passenger seat. When he almost snaps the door from its hinges, I quickly extend the bouquet of white roses. I know his favourite colour is green, but the store only had red, pink, or white. I was already anxious, and the thought of going to a florist further away to source green roses had sent me on a downward spiral.

His pissed off expression falls. “You bought me flowers?”

He looks like he’s about to cry; I’m thankful he appreciates the gesture and isn’t disappointed they’re not his favourite colour.

“And breakfast.” I hold up a tray containing two breakfast bagels.

“Y-you… This is what…”

I’ve done it. I made Rain Weston speechless.

I push out of the car, and, of course, he refuses to move an inch. Pride grows in my chest when his cheeks redden, and I push the flowers to his chest. His hand wraps around mine. “Thank you, baby.”