Page 43 of Sem

“Yeah.”

“When did that happen?”

“Recently,” he says, brushing a thumb over the pulse in my neck. He presses down on it lightly, and those blue eyes flick to mine. My heartbeat is betraying me in the most delicious way.

“Okay, let’s go,” I say, licking my lips.

His nostrils flare, and he exhales shakily before setting me down on the seat and buckling me in.

When he moves to the driver’s side, he glances over at me, grumbles something under his breath, and then unhooks my seatbelt, and drags me right into the middle seat.

“Buckle up, Maggie. Gotta keep you safe.”

I do as he says, and he puts the truck in drive and pulls out on the street. I probably shouldn’t, but I lean into him. Actually, I full-on nuzzle myself under his arm until he has no choice but to wrap that heavy arm around my shoulders. He pulls me into his side, his hand rubbing small circles against the skin of my arm. And I like it, way more than I probably should.

My phone dings in my pocket, and I pull it out, sighing heavily when I see a long column of texts from my dad and brother. My mom sent one, too, and I roll my eyes.

“What is it?” Sem asks, and I just turn my phone off.

“Just texts from my family. Making sure I’m safe. They think you’re a psychopath.”

He huffs, and his grip tightens on my arm. “They shouldn’t have been fucking with you then. Maybe if they were nicer, I’d be nicer. I can be nice.”

I bite down on my lower lip and peek up at him. He glances down at me, and my heart flutters in my chest.

“Has it always been like that?” he asks, his one hand gripping the steering wheel tightly.

“Yeah. It has. It got worse when they realized I wouldn’t be like them. They’re not bad people, just stuck in their ways. They don’t understand me. And it doesn’t help I haven’t officially come out to them. I probably should, but I don’t know…I don’t want to. Don’t want to hear it. It will be incessant comments and nagging, and I’m just not ready for it.”

“Well, they can fuck right off then. Trying to change you,” he mutters and then adds, “I think you should stay away. Unless I can be there with you.”

“To threaten them a painful death?” I ask with a laugh. “Oh my god, I cannot believe you did that! You said you’d grind them to dust.”

Sem smirks down at me and leans over, pressing a small kiss to the top of my head. That does all sorts of things to my insides. Butterflies flap their wings and take flight in my stomach. I shift in my seat and nuzzle farther into his chest. I’m practically in his lap.

“I’d do pretty much anything you ask, Maggie.”

I reach up and press a kiss to his cheek, and the tips of his ears turn pink. Fucking adorable. This big psychopath blushing because Ikissedhim.

“Almost there,” he says, clearing his throat and turning down a road I’ve noticed before but paid very little attention to.

“You live in an RV park?” I ask, sitting up a little taller and staring out the windshield as we move past rows and rows of motorhomes.

“Yeah, like I said…moved here a few weeks ago. Made it easier to get to work,” he says, as he pulls in front of an older class A motorhome. And yes, this gay boy knows the different motorhome classes. I grew up with a bunch of men obsessed with camping and “toughing it out”. I spent my childhood vacations in tents dying for something comfortable to spend those dreary days in. I would have killed for something like this growing up.

“Very cool,” I say as he shuts off the engine and jumps out of the truck. I scoot over, and shoulder open the passenger side door, but before I can hop down, he grabs onto my waist and picks me up, carrying me to his RV. Apparently, I’m getting used to being lugged around by him because I don’t even protest. I just wrap my legs around his waist and tuck myself nicely against his broad chest.

We fit perfectly.

I can hear keys clanging as he opens the door to the RV. Then he’s striding up and flipping on the lights.

"Oh my god, Sem,” I gasp, looking around, still attached to his torso like an opossum. “This is amazing.”

I unwrap my legs from his waist and slide down his muscular body until my feet hit the floor.

“This all looks brand new. Did you remodel this?” I ask, looking around at the sleek couch, the wood floors, the white subway tile backsplash, and the granite countertops.

“This is…beautiful.” I look at him, and he blushes again.

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