Page 53 of Topped

“Why?”

“Because you can’t just say we’re dating and that’s it,” I snapped. “Not with everything that’s happened.”

“Okay, yeah I guess that’s fair,” Milo said softly as Lizzie crawled up the side of his head to her favourite perch. “Do you want to talk about it now?”

“No, but I think if we don’t then we’ll just keep putting it off and never get anywhere.”

“It’s worked so far.”

“Has it? Because I’ve been… well, I’m…” I rubbed my chest, right above my heart, the persistent ache resurfacing again.

“Yeah, I’m the same.”

“And what’s that?”

Milo thought for a moment, reaching up to gently stroke Lizzie as she curled herself on top of his head. He’d started growing his hair out again, the light brown strands sticking out at odd angles like he’d run gel-covered fingers through it. I wasn’t sure if it was as comfortable as his shaved scalp, but Lizzie didn’t seem to care. Hair or not, Milo’s head was her favourite thing to sit on.

“Anxious? I don’t know if that’s the right word or not, but it’s the only one I’ve got right now. I really fucking like you, Rupert. Like, a lot. And I thought it was clear, but I’m sorry if it wasn’t,” he said. “I know we haven’t always been nice to each other—I think we’ve probably both got our own reasons for what happened—but that doesn’t change how I feel about you now. I don’t want to think about May or what we did over the summer, I want to focus on what’s in front of us.”

“That makes sense,” I said slowly. I understood where he was coming from, truly I did. But it still felt like I was missing a piece of the puzzle.

“But?”

“I don’t know. I really like you too, Milo. And I love everything we’ve been doing together. I’m… I don’t know.” I sighed. Everything was suddenly too big and too messy to explain. The deep, lingering fear that he’d find me too much or too demanding curled around my heart, sinking its claws into me and clouding my mind.

“You know you can talk to me, right? I won’t judge you.”

“I know.”

“And I won’t think you’re being ridiculous. I mean, you’ve met me, right? Ridiculous is almost my brand, and I don’t think anything you say or do will be worse than what I’ve done myself.”

“Thanks.” I offered him a smile, a new round of feelings bubbling up inside me that had nothing to do with what we’d been talking about. Apparently, my body had decided it still wasn’t ready to deal with this complex onslaught of emotions and was defaulting to distraction mode.

“You know,” I continued, inching closer to him until I was practically sitting in his lap. “If we’re dating now… if you’re my boyfriend, then we should celebrate.”

“Yeah? What did you have in mind?” Milo asked, putting his hand on my leg and stroking his thumb casually over my inner thigh.

“Mmm, I have several options. But what I really want is for you to fuck me.” I moaned at the thought of Milo on his knees behind me, pounding me with his perfect cock until all my thoughts and worries had vanished, leaving only pleasure behind.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” He cupped my jaw with his other hand and drew me in for a kiss. “Go and get on the bed and I’ll be through once I’ve put Lizzie away.”

I was still smiling as I sat back, warmth curling through my chest. This was better, easier. I could deal with this.

The emotions could wait for another day. Maybe then I’d be ready for them.

The only problem, a voice whispered as I followed Milo out of the sitting room, was that I didn’t know when that day would be.

Chapter Nineteen

Milo

“Hey, sweetheart, ready to go?” I asked, sliding through the back door of the sweet shop, my heart warming as I saw Rupert standing at the counter. He had his back to me and was carefully packing things into a gift hamper, nestling the items in amongst shredded paper. There were several finished boxes next to him, and a few more stacked at the far end, ready to be labelled and posted.

I knew they’d had a lot of orders for hampers for Christmas, most being sent by locals to various relatives across the country throughout the whole of December. And while Rupert was pleased at how many there were, I also knew it was starting to stress him out.

He’d spent half an hour last night muttering about curling ribbon while we were making dinner, and maybe I was naive, but I didn’t think there were that many ways to do it. Or that it was that difficult.

But I didn’t have a death wish, so I’d kept my thoughts to myself and helped him relax with a blowjob instead.