Page 50 of The Intimacy of Control

“I’m gonna do it.”

“Okay. Whatever you say. Listen, he should be here soon, so I’m going to let you go.”

“Alright. I hope today is your best birthday yet.”

I smiled, despite how much pestering he was doing. Right as I flicked the light off in the bathroom, I got a text.

Forrest

Open your door b-day boy

That made me smile, too, but for a whole different reason. Little butterflies fluttered their wings in my stomach, along with a muscle-deep warmth that took over. Which was weird. I wasn’t ready to think about why or how yet.

I basically skipped down the stairs and to my front door, taking a deep breath before putting my hand on the doorknob. I was on the other side this time. Usually, I was the one waiting behind the door. Not this time. This time, I was letting Forrest see a brand new part of me.

And there he was, grinning and holding a suspicious number of bags in his hands. “Hi. You look different.”

It took me a second to say anything. He was wearing a tank top and sweatpants, which was my favorite outfit on him. Well, he didn’t have his glasses on, which would’ve made it that much better. “Uh, do I?”

He nodded. “Yup. You look a hell of a lot sexier. Do you think it’s because of your birthday?”

Rolling my eyes, I finally stepped to the side, letting him in. “The kitchen is around the corner. You can set everything down on the counter in there.”

“You have a nice house. I’m kind of excited to explore it. Maybe even a little jealous.”

“Pfft. It’s nothing compared to your fancy apartment.” I followed him into the kitchen, leaning against the wall. “What all did you bring? Your entire everything?”

I watched as he took out all sorts of stuff. Eggs, bread, some strawberries, a mixing bowl, a pan… “Just enough to make you something nice.”

“You know I own bowls and pans, right?”

“Oh, better safe than sorry.”

I opened the fridge, pulling out the milk and butter he’d requested. “What are you making?”

“French toast.”

“What’s that other bag for?” I pointed to the lone paper bag off to the side.

He glanced at it, but only for a moment. He started mixing things together in the bowl, and I was very content to ogle him while he did so. I secretly liked watching how his tattoos moved with his muscles. “A gift for later.”

“When’s later?”

“Later. We have a whole day ahead of us.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, stepping closer. “We do?”

“Mhmh.” He turned, leaning his back against the counter. “We are going to chill and watch TV. Then, we’ll go out for lunch. Then, we’ll come back here, chill some more, and I’ll give you, my pretty, pretty slut, your present.” The way he was looking at me made my knees feel weak. Fuck. He reached out, cupping the side of my face with his palm. “Does that sound good to you, Jackson?”

No fucking fair. He knew how that made me feel. He knew, and he was using it to his advantage. I pulled my lower lip between my teeth, getting lost in the depth of the world in his eyes. I wanted to live in them. I wanted to thrive in them. I wanted to suffocate in them. “Yes. That sounds perfect.”

He smiled, patting my cheek. “Great! Now, be a good birthday boy and go sit on the couch. Pull up something to watch. I’ll let you know when breakfast is ready.”

I should’ve let Callum know it was already the best birthday ever, and it was barely nine in the morning.

I’d pestered him for long enough. Forrest had finally agreed to let me see my birthday present. The sun was about to set, we’d spent all day together, and what a fucking day it’d been. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed this much in a twelve-hour period.

He’d taken me out to eat, made them bring out dessert since it was my birthday, then rented a few movies for us to watch and brought cards we could play games with together. After our third round of Go Fish, I’d finally convinced him. He’d done well, considering my inability to let him drive me around, so nothing was truly a surprise. But he still had tricks up his sleeves.