Chapter Thirteen
Now that Sam had cooled off for a moment, he was suddenly nervous again. He’d had to excuse himself to the bathroom the minute they got into the room, not ready to face Ben just yet.
How many times had he fantasized about this when he was younger?
And yet, now that the time had come… what if Ben did care what he looked like? What if he was repulsed?
What if Ben abandoned him, too, deciding he was broken and that wasn’t something he had to put up with? That he could do better than a man who was scarred and deeply changed.
Logically, Sam knew he wouldn’t do any of those things. Ben was the most patient person Sam had ever known, and the kindest, too. He wouldn’t believe that of himself, but it was true. For all the grumpy, prickly exterior, for all the walls he put between himself and the world, he was a good man under it.
Sam wasn’t used to having walls. He was used to wearing his heart on his sleeve.
Maybe this was what Ben felt like all the time. Maybe he was constantly afraid.
Not for the first time, a wave of guilt at leaving him to figure things out for himself washed over Sam. That had been cruel.
But Ben had forgiven him for it. Ben would forgive him for anything.
Including not being young and beautiful anymore.
With a surge of determination, Sam stripped off his clothes, leaving them in a pile on the bathroom floor. He could do this.
They’d finally both arrived at the same place at the same time, and he wasn’t going to throw away this opportunity. Not just for the sex—although that sounded great—but for what he was hoping would happenafter.
He wanted to be with Ben. This was the way to make that happen. Trust had to come first.
Taking a deep breath, Sam pushed the bedroom door open and found Ben sitting on the edge of the bed, looking out the window. He turned to look at Sam when he heard him approach.
His mouth fell open, and then his whole expression changed.
Not to disgust, or horror. Not to any of the things Sam had been afraid of.
Ben softened in a way Sam had never really seen on him before. Warmth and adoration rolled off him so strongly that Sam could almost feel it as a physical force from where he was, a solid four feet away.
That was a relief.
“Hey,” Ben said, standing. “I was starting to think you’d climbed out the bathroom window.”
Despite his nerves, Sam laughed. This was fine.
This was better than fine.
It wasn’t the desperate, spur of the moment coming together he’d always expected them to have. It was much, much better than that.
“Tried it, didn’t fit. Even naked,” Sam joked in return, taking another half-step toward Ben.
Ben, who wasn’t staring at his scars, but wasn’t looking away, either. Who was looking at him like he was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“Shoulda taken that oil with you. Greased yourself up.”
“Yeah, well…” Sam shrugged. “I guess I’m stuck here now.”
Ben hummed, stepping forward to close the gap between them. “You think it’d be okay if I kissed you?”
Sam’s heart rate jumped, his pulse suddenly deafening in his ears. How many times had he wanted Ben to ask exactly that question?
All he could manage was a nod.
