And we’re making out on his sofa while the next episode plays unwatched in the background. It’s easy to give in to lust and forget my pesky heart when his tongue is in my mouth and his hands are moving all over my needy body. How long will Jett want to do this for? I have no clue. Am I ever going to turn him down? Probably not. It might make me a little pathetic, but I’ve dreamt about being with him for years, so I’ll take what I can get. I’ll savour every second of the time he wants to spend with me, even if the constant ache in my heart and the whisper in the back of my mind remind me he’s going to get bored and move on.
He goes down on me on the sofa. After, we watch a bit more TV, brush our teeth, and go to bed. We cuddle as we fall asleep, and when we wake, we have sleepy morning sex, him topping me in the missionary position. It’s wonderful, but as I stare into his eyes as he moves deep inside me, my heart falls for him a little more and hurts a little more as a consequence.
After breakfast, it’s time to go.
“I’ll call you,” Jett says.
Hopefully, he’ll keep his promise. Even though I want more than I can have, I’m not ready for this tryst of ours to end.
Chapter13
Jett
I can’t sleep. I’m standing at the balcony door in my bedroom, with the curtain open enough to allow a narrow column of light into the room. It falls across the bed, gently illuminating a sleeping Kian. He’s lying on his stomach, his palm on the pillow close to his peaceful face. His hair is flopping over his eyes, and I have the urge to tiptoe to the bed and stroke it back. The night is warm, and only a sheet covers his legs, leaving his back dimples and the top of his arse free. He looks stunning.
It’s our third week of fucking and the second time I’ve invited him to stay over. I don’t know why I asked either time. It blurs the edges of our agreement, yet both nights I wanted to spend more time with him. To fall asleep with him. To hold him all night long. Not that I’m doing that right now. I’m standing at the window, staring at him like some crazy stalker boyfriend.
I look out the window again. Not that there’s much to see. The moon is waxing but isn’t as full as it was the weekend we were at the holiday house. The stars are hidden, thanks to the light pollution from the city. Every window in the block of flats opposite is dark, a sure sign I should be sleeping too, only my thoughts won’t let me.
What am I doing?
What are we doing?
How long can this tryst of ours last? I suppose the answer is obvious: as long as we’re both happy with our arrangement. Kian seems happy. He’s always full of light and laughter, sparkles and rainbows when he’s here. He brightens my life and makes me smile until my cheeks ache. I’m happier than I have been in months. Yet it doesn’t seem fair to hold on to him. Doesn’t he want to find someone he can have a more meaningful relationship with?
What about me? What do I want? I love every second I spend with Kian, but my thoughts keep snapping to the way my relationship with Erica ended, and fresh fear creeps into my heart. Besides, it’s not as if this thing between me and Kian is even halfway to serious. We’ve both reasserted what this is enough times. Fun fooling around. A chance for me to explore my desires with someone safe. Someone I know. Someone who is off-limits for anything more than sex.
Could we have more if I had the courage to ask? I’ve had the same thought more times than I want to admit. Silly, I know. The thought doesn’t hit me when we’re having sex. No. It comes to me in the more domestic moments, like last night when we cooked, ate, and washed up together. As we ate, I wondered where Kian would like to go on a date, which is ridiculous. That’s not what our relationship is. It’s a behind-closed-doors, tell-no-one deal. I shouldn’t be thinking about taking him on a date. I rub my arm. I haven’t wanted to take anyone on a date since Erica left.
“Hey.” Kian wraps his arms around my waist and presses his cheek against my back. He yawns. “It’s dark o’clock. You should be in bed.” He tugs at the waistband of my boxer pants. “You have too many clothes on.”
“I’m standing at the window.” His cock nudges my arse. “Wait, are you naked?”
“Yes.”
“Kian—”
“Relax. It’s the middle of the night. Everyone’s asleep. You could fuck me against this window right now, and no one would see.”
My spine tingles.
“Come to bed,” Kian urges.
I turn and kiss his forehead. “You go. I’ll join you soon.”
He puts on the kind of sad expression a toddler would use to get its own way. Eyes big, chin dipped, bottom lip jutting out, chin quivering. It’s both adorable and funny.
“Please.” He draws the word out until it’s four times its normal length. “The bed is cold and lonely without you.”
He’s hard to resist.
“I have the perfect cure for sad, grumpy Jett.” He turns his pout into a brilliant smile.
I can imagine what this perfect cure of his is. A blow job, perhaps. Or sex. And it would be easy to lose myself in him like I do every time I invite him over. What’s healthier: burying my head in my work or screwing around with Kian? I know which is the most fun out of the two.
“Are you sure you’re okay with what we’re doing?” I ask.
Kian blinks and tilts his head. “I thought we’d gone over that three weeks ago.” He runs his hand down my bare arm. “And that I’d told you I was okay with it.”
