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“If I've learned anything from seeing what Taylor went through, what Xed and Salem went through, it's that abuse is a cycle. It repeats itself, and it's hard as fuck to break free from it. But you're here, man. You're here, and you're sober, and the fact that you wake up every day to try is worth a hell of a lot. Don't sell yourself short.”

His eyes grow wide, expression shifting through a multitude of emotions I can't place. The hairs start to rise on my arms the longer he stares.

“What?” I murmur.

He swallows hard, hand sliding up my side to rest just beneath my ribs. “Christian, I…” Trailing off, he shakes his head once. “Fuck.”

An odd pressure envelops me when I reach up to touch his cheek, like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff. “Dev?”

His voice drops when he finally speaks, barely more than a breath against my palm. “I think I might love you.”

My heart stutters hard enough that I forget how to breathe. I search his face, waiting for the punchline or the panic. For the metaphorical rug to be yanked from beneath my feet.

But it never comes.

Instead, he looks terrified. And so painfully hopeful that it makes my chest ache.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he whispers, holding my gaze.

“I think,” I say quietly, running a thumb over his lip piercing, “I might love you too.”

His chest heaves as he closes his eyes briefly. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

I tug him down and press our mouths together, opening for him when his tongue gently prods inside. We spend a long while like that, just kissing and touching, coaxing my cock back to life. Devon takes it in his hand, stroking softly as he places hot, open-mouthed kisses over my nipples and abs. When he gets to my groin, he looks up at me with sparkling eyes, so much tenderness in his features that my fucking heart hurts from the weight of it.

“Can I still taste you?” he asks, kissing around the base of my shaft.

A shaky laugh leaves my throat. I spread my legs, feeling lighter inside than I have my entire life. “Do you even have to ask? I'm yours, pastelito. You can do whatever you need.”

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Devon

Mine.

My hands slide down Christian's ribs, over his waist to rest on his hips as I look at him beneath me. I don't know what to admire—the slight flush on his cheeks, the tattoos inked across his chest, that heavy cock leaking for me against his abs. When he pulls his knees up to his chest, my attention drops right down to that perfect asshole beneath his balls, soft and smooth and mine.

He's mine. He said it. Said he thinks he loves me.

Christian Totillo might love me.

“Fuck, baby,” I whisper, bending down to run my tongue along the hard ridge of his shaft. “You look so fucking gorgeous like this.”

He groans, hips flexing when I take him in my mouth. “I really like it when you call me that.”

Popping off his cock, I place a circle of kisses around his sac. “What? Baby?”

“Mm.” His fingers thread through my hair while he watches me suck one of his balls into my mouth. “Makes me feel, like… special or something. I don't know.”

Making a mental note to call him baby as often as possible, I gently release his sac and lick over his taint. “You are special.”

He flinches at the sensation, but when I glance up at his face in question, all I see is an expression of pleasure staring down at me.

Christian nods, widening himself even more in a display of trust that absolutely breaks my heart. Or maybe puts it back together. Either way, the ache makes my breath hitch as I hold his gaze and lick at his hole for the first time.