Once we were seated, I turned to him. “What do you want to do? Watch a movie?”
“Could I read to you?”
I almost lost my voice. “Like…we used to do on lazy Sundays?”
West’s face softened, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah. I miss doing that with you,” he said softly.
I grabbed the book he’d left on the coffee table weeks ago and opened it. It was a gay romantic-suspense novel written by A. Lawton, one of his favorite authors.
Clearing his throat, he began to read.
West relaxed beside me, his body sinking into the cushions.
I glanced at him, taking in his peaceful expression. God, I’d missed this. Just being with him, no pretenses, no walls. Just us.
As he continued reading, I heard the emotion in his voice, the love between the two characters that was just like the one I tried so hard to keep hidden.
West shifted subtly closer, his thigh pressing against mine. I was still wearing my pajamas and he’d put on a pair of joggers after his shower.
My breath hitched, but I forced myself to pay attention to his words, even as my heart raced. The heat radiating from his body, so achingly close, was way too good.
“West,” I murmured, my voice low and husky.
He paused mid-sentence, glancing up from the book. “Yeah?”
My hand brushed against his, sending electricity coursing through my veins. “I, uh…I’ve always loved your voice,” I said, a slight tremor in my words.
I swallowed hard, hyperaware of every point of contact between us. "The way you do the voices. It’s…um…so soothing."
God, could I sound more awkward? But West chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that always made my stomach flip.
“West,” I said again, and this time, when our eyes met, I felt the world tilt on its axis.
The air between us crackled with tension, years of unspoken feelings suddenly pushing to the surface. I watched as West’s gaze dropped to my lips, then back up to my eyes, a question burning in their hazel depths.
My heart pounded so hard he had to hear it. I wanted to kiss him—God, how I wanted to—but fear held me back. What if I was reading this all wrong? What if I ruined everything?
West leaned in slightly, his breath warm on my cheek. “Drew,” he whispered, “I…”
I held my breath, caught between hope and terror. This was it—the moment that could change everything.
I couldn’t take it anymore. The tension, the longing, the years of wondering what if all came crashing down in that moment. I closed the infinitesimal gap between us, pressing my lips to West’s with all the pent-up want I had in me.
The world exploded into sensation. West’s lips were soft yet insistent against mine, his stubble scratching deliciously at my skin. I tasted coffee and something uniquely him, and it was intoxicating. My hands found their way to his curls, fingers tangling in the silky strands like I’d dreamed of doing for so long.
West made a small noise in the back of his throat, somewhere between a groan and a whimper, and it sent shivers down my spine. His strong hands cupped my face, thumbs stroking my cheeks with a tenderness that made my heart ache.
When we finally broke apart, both panting slightly, I rested my forehead against his. “Wow,” I breathed, unable to stop the grin spreading across my face.
West chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Yeah,” he agreed, his eyes sparkling. “Wow is right.”
I didn’t want to move, didn’t want to break this bubble of perfection, but I had to know. “How long have you wanted to do that?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
West’s expression softened. “Years,” he admitted. “God, Drew, it feels like forever.”
My heart soared. I kissed him again, softer this time but no less passionate. My hands slid down to the hem of his T-shirt, fingers ghosting over the strip of skin exposed there. “Can I…?” I murmured against his lips.
West nodded, lifting his arms to help me pull the shirt over his head. I took a moment to admire the planes of his chest, the definition of his abs. “You’re so beautiful,” I said, tracing a finger along his collarbone.
