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My dick rallied despite the orgasm that had just drained it, and I told myself to take it slow. But goddamn, I’d wanted him for years.Years.
This isn’t about you, Max. This is about him.
Grasping his chin, I forced his face up. Then I waited for his bashful eyes to meet mine.So fucking cute.
I had to clear my throat to get the words out. “We don’t have to do that tonight.”
“But I want to,” he all but whined.
I couldn’t help it. I laughed.
His eyes widened, realizing what he’d done, and he tried to push me away.
Wrapping both arms around him, I leaned in to nose his red cheek. “I want you too.”
“I will never get used to hearing those words,” he whispered, relaxing into me.
“I’ll keep saying them.”
“Promise?”
A slither of guilt tried to steal some of this blissful moment because the second he asked for my promise, something inside me whispered,Why would he want your promise when you broke the one you made to Mom?
The thought was tormenting, and I had a moment to doubt myself. It must have been a moment too long because Wes stirred, pulling back to look at me with vulnerable, wide eyes.
“Max?”
I dropkicked my own self-torment somewhere away from him because it wasn’t his weight to carry. And because I’d made my decision tonight and I wasn’t going back.
The openness in his searching gaze made my resolve even greater.
Dragging my thumb over his cheekbone, I smiled, hoping he could see the softness I had for only him. “I promise, Nemo,” I said, catching his face between my palms. “I vow it.”
The vulnerability evaporated, and he smiled, the amount of trust he had blowing me away. I hoped one day I would trust myself as much as he did.
23
Wes
“Come here.”The soft command in his voice induced shivers.
And not therun awaykind but themake your knees weakkind.
Tingling all over, I closed the small distance between us as droplets of water fell from the ends of my hair to trickle down my neck. Despite the humid air inside this bathroom, my skin was covered in goose bumps, but it wasn’t because I was cold.
Holy fucking shit. Max jacked you off. Max confessed. Max said I love you.
Look, if this was me tripping, I was addicted. I would be paying for more of whatever was doing this because, seriously, this was some epic-ass shit.
A rush of air blasted my lower half when he unknotted and ripped the towel from around my waist. Making a small grunt, I watched it smack against the floor and then looked back up.
For a moment, my mind blanked out because his visuals were literally unmatched. He stood there completely confident. Entirely naked, skin damp with a few lingering droplets clinging to his muscle. He wasn’t just a man but a piece of art, all sculpted skin and ink, the onyx tattoos covering his right arm almost a shield. The intricate and bold designs swirled together, creating a symbiotic piece no one could wear but him. Eyes skimming from that place, my gaze shifted briefly to the tree branch stretching across his collarbone. It grew into the ornate design on his left shoulder, a clock confined by an infertile forest. Where most people thought it was fascinating and kind of creepy, I always thought it bespoke loneliness.
Perhaps it was me projecting my own heart into the design, but I never asked him what it meant to him. I was afraid to.
Even without the meaning, he wore the art well, not at all the kind of man the art would wear. It was compelling the way Max owned his skin, his space, even his darkness. Everyone always thought I was afraid of the dark, likely because of the nightlight I always kept in the hall. Truth was I could never be afraid of the dark, not when everything I loved embodied it. I merely kept that light on because sometimes even darkness needed a guide.
Inevitably, my attention turned to the thick cock resting between his legs where it pillowed against full balls, crowned with wiry black hair. Max was all man. Unshaven, unrefined, and with a dirty-as-hell mouth in the bedroom.
