“We know each other pretty well,” I told him. “We’ve shared a lot of confidences over the past few months. Don’t you think?”
“Well, but you couldn’t even see me then.”
I popped open my jeans button, viscerally reminded of all the times Holden had watched me strip on camera. I’d always drawn it out and made it a big tease. But this wasn’t leading to mutual orgasms.
I wouldn’t be opposed to giving him a show, or him giving me one, but Holden didn’t look like he was in the right headspace for all that.
This was a different kind of stripping. I was baring myself to show him the trust I had in him, in our friendship, in who we were together—whether via a screen or in the same room.
I pushed my jeans and underwear down in one go, stepping out of the pant legs.
“You can tell me whatever you want or need, Holden, and I’ll trust you. Right now, I’m going to sleep naked, just as you requested.” I winked. “With the door locked.”
“Just like that?”
“Yeah. Just like that.”
I slid into the bed, sighing at the smooth glide of silky sheets. “Your bed is so lovely, though. You can join me in it anytime.”
His only answer was to walk over to the closet and withdraw the air mattress. I lay on my side, quietly watching as he rolled it out and started the air compressor. While it whirred and the plastic mattress slowly inflated, Holden retrieved a sleeping bag.
Banshee snorted from her place at the foot of the bed. She’d been unwilling to give uphercomfy sleeping place, regardless of what her master did.
Unlike me. I’d sleep anywhere the man wanted me, and that was the embarrassing truth. My cock thickened a little under the blankets, and I did my best to ignore the arousal as I watched him bend over, displaying a gorgeous, firm ass still encased in a nicely tailored suit.
Once he had his bedding all situated, he hesitated, then turned off the light before shedding his clothes in the dark.
“Well, that’s mean,” I said. “Always keeping me in the dark.”
“It’s easier for me,” he said as he settled into his makeshift bed. “I hate revealing my weakness?—”
“Hey,” I said sharply. “There’s nothing weak about you, Holden. You’re the strongest man I know.”
He huffed a breath. “You know what I mean. I’m damaged.”
“No, I don’t know,” I said softly. “Not really.”
There was a long stretch of quiet before he spoke. His voice was subdued when he did.
“My touch aversion comes from abuse. One night, my mom came in drunk and high, and she dragged me from my bed. She was screaming…and slapping me. It, uh, only got worse from there.”
“Jesus,” I murmured.
“Anyway, most of the time, I can push that all away. I’m big now. Strong. No one can hurt me like that again. But when I sleep…”
“You feel vulnerable,” I said.
“Yeah. I didn’t know sleeping out there would bother me so much, but…” He huffed a jagged laugh. “Well, I’m damaged. That doesn’t just go away. Not even after freaking twenty-plus years and tons of therapy, apparently.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“I’m just explaining so you understand, not so you’ll feel sorry for me.”
“I know.” I paused. “Thanks for trusting me.”
“I could always talk to you. That was what I’ve always liked about you the most, Shy.”
My chest filled with warmth, even as my heart squeezed painfully. For some silly reason, my eyes burned. Such a beautiful man with such a big heart, and he couldn’t give it to anyone. How sad was that?
