“I want you so much. I want to make you feel good.”
“I already feel good. I always do when I’m with you.”
My hand slides to the back of his neck.
“You don’t have to be afraid of losing me. You can’t lose me.”
His lips part, but he’s still fighting.
“I’m not afraid,” he insists. “I’m right here. I want you.”
His hands slip under my shirt.
He really doesn’t want to talk, which is all the more reason we have to.
Gently, I stop him, pinning his wrists with one hand.
“You want to make sure I won’t leave,” I correct.
Something in him cracks. Just a little, but it happens, and he hates the exposure.
When his voice wobbles now, it’s real.
He tries to smooth it back into something sultry, but he’s becoming exhausted.
“Maybe I want you so much I can’t think clearly.”
Oh, my clever, vulnerable boy.
I lean closer.
“I know what you’re doing, but Antonio—you never have to audition for me. I’m never going to choose anyone else. It’s not even a choice. You’re inevitable.”
His breath stutters.
I guide him backward until he’s sitting on the couch. I sit and pull him into my lap, wrapping him in the absolute certainty of my presence.
One more time, he tries to offer heat instead of admitting he’s hurt. He rolls his hips, eyes closed, seeking a way to end the conversation.
I want him so damn much my vision is blurring, but I stop him.
“Not like this.”
I smooth his hair back.
“No bargains. No negotiations. I’m already yours.”
“But you weren’t always,” he whispers.
Tears cling to his lashes.
“I’ve been yours since the second I saw you.”
“I know I’m difficult,” he says next. “You should be upset with me.”
“You’re not difficult and I’m not upset. I’m happy.”
“How can you say that!” He looks wrecked. “I’m too much!”
