He stops at the end of my bed, arms crossed over his bare chest. He’s… sexy. It’s strange thinking of someone that way. For me, anyway. My opinion of someone’s sex appeal has been so silent, I thought it was nonexistent for most of my life.
“Graysexual,” I tell him. “That’s what I’m going with for now.”
“There’s no pressure to decide which term fits you best,” he counters.
“I know. It’s no one’s business. I don’t owe anyone this information—not even my friends.” He grins. I get the distinct impression he’s proud of that statement. “But like you need to know things, I need to know this. For me.”
“I understand.”
“I think it’s the one that fits best.”
“What happened to WTFsexual?”
I snort. “I’m still a little baffled that all these sites list it as an actual term, and I admit I definitely relate to it, but… I don’t know. Graysexual, in the most basic of terms, means sometimes. No rhyme or reason. Just… sometimes. You know?”
Voss nods.
“You have no opinion on that?”
“Nope. I accept you, however you are.”
I roll my eyes. “Thanks. I’m sure you’ve done a deep dive into sexuality, though. Haven’t you?”
He grins. “Yes.”
“Because of your triplet brothers?”
Voss inclines his head. “I’ve given you too much information about me. You know too much.”
I laugh.
“Yes, because of the triplets. Deep dive into gender studies and sexuality.”
“Then you must have an opinion.”
“No. No one is allowed to tell you who you are. Anyone who tries can fuck right off.”
My chest feels all warm and uncomfortable at his words. I chew my bottom lip as I watch him stand there and know that I’m probably going to have another freak out before too long.Somehow, Voss is challenging what I understand about my aromanticism, too. I’m not even sure he knows he’s doing it.
I close down my tablet and push it aside. “You still okay hanging out?” I ask awkwardly. That’s not the actual question I want to ask, though. Since my cheeks feel like they’re burning, I’m guessing that Voss knows that too.
He climbs onto the bed and drops to his hands right in front of me so he can press his mouth to mine. “Yes,” he answers. “I’m almost thirty. Believe it or not, I’m pretty adept at taking care of my own orgasms, Brek. I don’tneedyou to do it for me. I still want to hang out and kiss and cuddle and grope when we’re in the mood.”
“You’re kinda great,” I admit.
“Took you long enough to figure that out. I was beginning to question your observational skills.”
“Great at taking a compliment, too,” I mutter.
He laughs, pressing his mouth to mine again. He leans more fully into me, pushing me backward. I let myself fall onto my back, and he follows me down.
“I’m going to err on the side of too much consent for a while, okay? This isn’t me pressuring you into anything right now. I just want to kiss if you’re down for that. I won’t push for anything else.”
I wrap around him as he settles on top of me, my arms around his neck and my leg hooked over his ass. “Yeah. I like that.”
“I’m also going to tell you that I’m not interpreting a little chubbing as you being into something more. If you’re notcomfortable moving further on your own, we can talk about it and come up with a code word or maybe a gesture. Okay?”
“Yes, okay. Now stop talking and kiss me.”
