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"Gee, thanks," I mutter.
"It's something else." He shakes his head. "You have a thirst for life, an optimism, a happiness that radiates from you that is so very infectious. You make me want to hope."
"Wow," I swallow, "that feels very much like a compliment."
"You confuse me." His scowl deepens. "I can't figure out what makes you tick."
"And that's bad?"
"That's...not good for my peace of mine," he growls. "You're not good for my peace of mind. When I found you’d gone out, I lost my mind. I hated that I wasn't strong enough yet to walk out of the house and go after you. I hate being this helpless. I hate that I need to rely on others to protect you. That I have to be in this house that belongs to someone else. That I have to be dependent on others, knowing they are probably plotting against me as we speak."
"They are your family; if they wanted to hurt you, they'd have done it by now."
"Or maybe they are waiting for me to be strong enough so I can put up a fight as they take me down."
"You don’t trust anyone, do you?"
"I trust you." His gaze widens. He seems taken aback by his words. To be honest, so am I.
"You don’t have to be jealous of anyone else where I am concerned. You are the first man I have been with, Axel. You’ve seen the evidence of that with your own eyes." I peer up into his features.
His jaw hardens. His gaze seems to grow even more stormy.
"Why are you so angry?" I cup his cheek. "All this bitterness inside of you, all this pain, where is it coming from?"
His brow furrows. For a second, I am sure he is going to answer my question, then a mask seems to drop over his face. He releases me and steps back, only to sway. I grip his shoulder to righten him and his features grow even more angry. He spins around and heads out of the shower. He makes it to the door before his knees seem to grow too shaky. He grips the door frame and draws in a breath.
I reach behind me and turn off the shower before I walk over to him. By the time I reach him, his features are pale.
"You okay?" I reach out to touch him, but he shrugs it off.
"I can walk on my own steam."
"I have no doubt," I murmur.
"Don’t humor me." He firms his lips.
"I believe you. I’m only trying to help."
"Well, don’t." He takes another step forward, then another. I glance down at myself and realize I am dripping water all over the carpet. Shit. I turn and hurry back into the bathroom. I dry myself quickly, then shrug into a bathrobe, before I return to him. I catch up with him as he nears the door to the hallway. His clothes are dripping and his breathing is labored. He grips the frame of the door and draws in a breath.
"Let me help you, please," I plead.
He doesn’t answer me. Simply takes another step forward, then another. His pace is slow, and he seems to be growing more tired with every passing minute. Halfway up the corridor, he sways. I grab his arm, and this time, he doesn’t shake it off. I throw his arm across my shoulder, wrap my arm around his waist, and help him back to his room.
"Why don’t you sit down in that chair and I’ll help you out of your clothes?"
He doesn’t protest and I shoot him a sideways glance. His face is paler, his cheekbones more pronounced. He has his gaze fixed on the chair. He seems to be slowing down with each step, but we finally make it to the chair. He lowers himself into it with a sigh, then leans his head back and closes his eyes. I undo the buttons of his shirt.
"Lean forward," I murmur.
He obliges me without complaint, and once more, I rake my gaze across his face. His eyes are closed, his breathing labored. Clearly, he is in pain. I push his shirt off of his shoulders, then reach for his sweat pants. "Uh, you’ll need to lift your hips so I can help you out of these."
I pull his sweat pants down and his thick cock swings free. He sinks back down into the chair and I pull his sweats completely off. He places his head against the back of the chair, and his chest rises and falls. Moisture gleams across his shoulders and slides down the demarcation of his pecs. It slips down his sculpted chest, around his belly button, and catches on the trimmed hair at the base of his cock. My mouth waters, and before I can give myself the chance to change my mind—after all, I’m already down here—I wrap my fingers around his shaft and it jumps in my grasp.
"What are you doing?"
I tip up my chin to find him staring down at me. His blue gaze is direct as he surveys my features. Without breaking the connection, I lick my tongue around the crown his dick.
