“Yes,” is all he says.
Perfect. I can’t wait to have him permanently marked, forme. Because I asked him to. Because he’smine.
I snag the rest of his slice and smile as I finish it off.
Luckily, no one sticks around for long.
Soon enough it’s just Kendrick and me left, with enough pizza still here to last us a few days. Hunter may have gone a little overboard. If I thought we could get away with it, I’d sequester us here to live off pizza and snuggles on the couch, without the rest of the world invading our space.
“I need a shower,” I say with a groan. Hauling shit is hard work, and I hope the hot water will help my headache.
We should have done this years ago. Hell, I should have moved him in the day we met. I have no excuses for the terrible lapse. At least it’s rectified now.
I pause at the threshold of the small hallway that leads to the bedroom and bathroom, and twist to look at Kendrick, one hand on the doorframe. “You wanna join me?”
He pauses from where he’s cleaning off the table, napkins in one hand and a dirty glass in the other. “Do I—what?”
“In the shower. Do you want to join me in the shower?”
“Do you think that’s a good idea?”
Always so cautious. Always holding parts of himself back because he thinks that’s what I want. It’s not. I want him. All of him, no matter what that means. “Best one I’ve had all day.” I tug my top up and over my head, dropping it on the floor. “So, you coming?”
He visibly swallows. “Let me finish putting everything away, and I’ll join you there.”
The spray of the shower is warm and soothing and almost perfect. It’ll be perfect once Kendrick joins me. We’ve never showered together before. Another oversight on my part. I like being close to him, always. Why haven’t I asked for this? Why hasn’the?
Except I know the answer to that already. He follows my lead, thinking that if he asks too much, then I’ll walk away. As if I ever could. As if I’d everwantto. Something visceral and raw comes to life inside me every time he demands anything from me. My need to please him, make him feel good, gets fulfilled when he asks something of me, and I give it to him.
A lot of this is my fault. I was so sure that we both had everything we needed because we had each other that I never demanded more. He neveraskedfor more, so why would I think he needed more? When I almost lost him last year, everything changed. Evolved. Warped into something even worse. It’s always been this deep, uncontrollable thing that consumes me, but I’ve never been scared of losing him before. The fact he’ll always be here is something I’d taken for granted. Now I can’t think about anything else. It follows me into my dreams and turns them into nightmares. It haunts my steps when he isn’t in sight, or in reach.
He was almost taken from me without a choice. And now I can’t help the fear that next time it will be his choice to leave. I need to give him more because I need him to stay. And I want to make him feel good. It makes me feel good too. Maybe not in thesame way, but that doesn’t make it less. They’re both powerful. Bothus.
My heart skips a beat when the door opens, and Kendrick steps into the room. He’s still fully clothed and almost hesitant. Does he think I’ll change my mind? I won’t. Is he going to change his? I hope not.
We’ve never shared this, and I want to experience it. I want to have it all.
It’s an intimate thing to do, isn’t it? Not necessarily sexual but still an intimacy I’ve kept from him; from us both. I’m done with that. I’m throwing open all the doors, and the windows, and destroying every single fucking lock we’ve ever had. No more space between us. None.
He undresses slowly, keeping his gorgeous, hazel-green eyes on me. His body is a work of art, honed and deadly. My gaze catches on his chest, right where I plan to get him tattooed. A permanent mark of my making. My name. My very soul, etched into him.
His thick thighs are covered with rough hair that I’m intimately familiar with; they keep me warm when I rub my feet on them on cold nights. The scar on his leg from his surgery is fading more and more, and the reminder of what we went through with it. The mental scars will take a lot longer to heal, if they ever fully do.
His cock is soft, and there’s something comforting about it. That he’s not just in here to get his rocks off. We’re more than that. I planon getting him off, on being the only one to give him that pleasure and release, but it’s not thepoint.
The point is him and me. And that’s it.
He opens the shower door, and I blurt out, “I’m gay.”
His mouth parts, half in amusement and half in surprise, his grip tightening on the glass. “You’re not even bisexual, Spence.”
The words make me stiffen indignantly. “Me not getting hard has nothing to do with my sexuality.”
“I didn’t say it did.”
“You said we’re in a relationship,” I accuse. Did he not mean that? Did he just say it to placate me?
Kendrick steps into the shower, shutting us in here together, and crowds me until we’re almost touching. “We are.”
