He doesn’t speak right away.
Just takes a few moments to gather his thoughts.
He leans forward and presses a slow, deliberate kiss to the curve of my neck…right where my pulse is jumping like crazy.
He takes his time. Breathes me in. Holds me steady.
“One,” he murmurs, lips brushing my skin, “I can agree on the organ thing. No hearts delivered to my pretty boy. Shame, though…I was gonna label the box real nice.”
I elbow him weakly; he chuckles.
“Two,” he continues, voice dropping deeper, “you’re staying right here so those trolls leave us the hell alone. And because Iwantyou here. And because…”
His hand slides around my waist slowly and settles against my chubby belly like it’s his favorite place on Earth.
“I fuckinglovethat I can actually feel you in my lap, Eli. I love your body. I love your weight. I love every single inch of you. One day you’re going to believe that.”
My breath catches.
“Three,” he smiles against my skin. “I never slept with that twink.”
For some reason, that calms me the most so far.
“And four…” he whispers, brushing his lips up the side of my throat. “Their type of pretty doesn’t mean shit to me. I’ve had pretty. I’ve had beautiful. I’ve had every flavor of lust you can imagine.”
He turns my face toward his. His forehead rests against my cheek.
“Butyou?” His voice breaks into a quiet growl. “You make me feel. You make me fight. You make me fucking terrified in all the best ways. Those people aren’t competition. They’re ghosts. You’re the only real thing in this whole damn place.Youare my perfectly perfect pretty boy.”
My chest goes tight.
Skip presses one more kiss to my neck.
“Now eat your wings, baby,” he murmurs, brushing a thumb over my hip like he’s soothing a startled animal. “We need to calm your racing heart down some.”
I swallow hard. Mostly because my heartisracing…and also because Skip talking about my body like it’s something precious does things to me I’m not emotionally prepared for.
He lifts one of my wings, holds it to my mouth like he expects me to take a bite.
“Go on,” he says. “Eat. Before you pass out again, and I gotta explain to the whole damn bar why my boyfriend keeps rebooting like a Windows ’98 laptop.”
I snort…an actual, embarrassing snort…and take a bite.
I glare halfheartedly. “Feeding me like this while I’m in your lap isnothelping my heart rate any.”
He hums again, that deep, pleased sound that should honestly be illegal.
“That’s the point, baby.”
“The point?” I sputter.
“Yeah,” he says, brushing another kiss to my neck like he’s punctuating his own sentence. “Your heart. The one I plan to keep nice and trained so it stops freaking out every time I touch you.”
My breath hitches. “Trained?”
“Uh-huh.”
He lifts another wing to my lips.
