“There you are,” Lily whispers, her hands on my cheeks and her nose rubbing mine. Lifting my face to hers, she places a soft kiss on me. “You are the sweetest man and I am the luckiestwoman that you chose me. I’m scared of what you make me feel, but I’m even more so of not taking the chance to be with you.” What? “Be patient with me. I have a lot of baggage to sort through, but I want to do so at your side. If I’m your star, you’re also mine.”
“Okay.”
Lily laughs, not offended by my response, or lack of it, considering it’s nowhere near as eloquent as hers. “I kind of like that I left you almost speechless.”
“Fy seren, you’re straddling me and sitting on the spot holding the entirety of my blood supply in this moment. Be thankful I’m coherent.”
“Are you, though?” She teases, pressing down.
“Fuck me,” I mutter, trying like hell not to come in my pants. Lily grins and kisses a sensitive spot on the side of my neck. Yep, that’s going to leave a spot. On my skin and the material covering my straining erection.
I do not give a shit either.
I’ll wear the proof of her effect on me as proudly as she does my ring.
“Where did you go?” She asks gently, her eyes holding a mixture of desire and concern. I know what she’s referring to and, as much as I hate to confess how screwed up my brain can be, I owe it to her. And not just because of what she shared with me. Lily needs to know in case I’m sent back there for any reason.
“My past,” I admit. “In the fairness of complete transparency, there’s something you should know.” This time, she stops me, letting me know it isn’t necessary. “It is.” Then I tell her about my childhood, the struggles with my glitchy metabolism, my weight, the bullying, and so forth. As if knowing I need to get it all out at once, she doesn’t interrupt me. She does, however, drop a kiss on me when she senses I need asecond. “My dad thought football would be good for me.” I chuckle. “As you can see, he was right. The training and running must’ve kickstarted my metabolism because the weight started coming off and the muscles went on. With them and my skills on the field, I became popular.”
She mutters an, “I bet.”
“I didn’t care,” I tell her, making sure she can see my face, see the truth of what I’m about to confess. “They didn’t give a damn about me until my body changed into this and my stats garnered the attention of scouts and talk of going pro.”
“Hangers on expecting to catch some of your shine.”
“They didn’t acknowledge me when I was younger and I refused to when I was older.”
“What’s the medical term for what you experienced?”
“Experience,” I correct her. “It’s still there, but only when my emotions are really high or my energy is really low. I have body dysmorphia. To this day, my brain may play tricks on me and try to convince my eyes that I’m still that kid.”
“And if it does?”
“My therapist told me to focus on things this version of me would have, things that I wouldn’t have or experience as a kid.”
“Like what? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“The fact I’m sitting in my house. That my beautiful fiancée is on my lap. My tattoo.”
“You do have one?”
“Yeah. You?” She quirks a brow at me. “Stupid question considering your profession, huh?”
“Let me see it,” she pleads.
Unable to resist messing with her, I inquire, “Are we still talking about my ink?”
“Keaton Michael Wayne!” She’s grinning, though, so I know she isn’t upset.
I, however, pout. “I was hoping you hadn’t heard my mom use it.”
“I love your name,” she tells me. “He was the best Batman.”
“Right?”
“Will you show me?” It’s quieter this time, but no less interested. Lifting my shirt, I twist my body so she can see all of it.
Lily traces a finger over the design, seeming to create a path of fire in her wake. “They did a great job.”
