Page 41 of Until Him

“Oh fuck,” he groans, sounding entirely too worked up for that epic of an orgasm. He should be napping right now, not pacing the kitchen.

I lean up on my elbows and watch him as he moves back and forth.

Curie eyes me, and I ask her, “Does he normally do this?”

She just cocks her head, being unhelpful like usual, so I grab some tissues, wipe myself up as best I can, and approach him.

He recoils away from me, like he’s afraid. I didn’t hurt him, did I? He seemed to enjoy everything. He was kissing me back so enthusiastically.

“Hey,” I say, coming to a stop and holding up my hands. “What’s up? Why are you so upset?”

“We’re not doing that again,” he says, his voice shaking. He holds up a finger and then points it at me. “Never again, Logan.”

“What part of that aren’t we doing again?” I ask because I need him to spell it out for me.

“Kissing. Whatever the fuck that was. Oh, Jesus.”

“Why not?”

“We just can’t. Oh fuck,” he turns away from me, fisting his hair, and I can’t help it. I move into his space and wrap my arms around his shaking form. My splayed palms are pressed against his bare stomach as I pull him against me.

“Hey,” I say as his back hits my chest. “What did I do wrong?”

He yanks himself from my hold and then spins around, his hands moving to my chest and shoving me back.

“Did I say you could fucking touch me?”

My mouth opens and closes, and then my eyebrows meet.

“Who hurt you?” I ask, and he exhales shakily.

He gestures toward the door angrily. “Get out.”

But I don’t listen. I just plant myself right in his kitchen and refuse to budge.

“Who hurt you, Theo? Because it sure as fuck wasn’t me. What we just did was fucking consensual, and you know it.”

His cheeks redden, and he shoves me again. And yeah, his dick might be bigger than mine, but I’m stronger. He can’t move me.

“Who hurt you?” I repeat more softly, and he huffs.

“Men like you!” he nearly shouts, and my chest aches. “It’s always men like you.”

“Men like me?”

“Yes, you heard me. Now get the fuck out of my apartment.”

I stand there just staring at him, and he swipes at the back of his mouth like it was an afterthought.

Wiping away my kiss. Asshole. Good luck trying to erase what just happened over there.

“What men?”

Now I’m feeling angry because, yeah, I don’t really know the guy, but someone did something to him to make him like this—all cold and detached and mean.

He shakes his head, his eyes nearly wild as he tries to move past me, but I don’t let him go. I just pull him against me, and he kicks his leg out, connecting with my shin. Fuck, that’s going to bruise, but still, I hold onto him, pressing his back against the wall. Our bodies are touching from our dicks to our chests as we both struggle to breathe.

“Easy,” I murmur, and he clutches onto me, his fingers digging into my lower back almost painfully.

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