“Mhm. Remi said something recently that stuck with me. He said attraction doesn’t have to be only physical. That it can be mental, too.”
Oakley’s eyes are on mine now, curiosity there.
“I think maybe I’m gray-ace,” I tell him. “Because I don’t get turned on by you naked or understand your obsession with ears—”
He huffs a throaty laugh, stepping closer.
“But I know I want you something fierce, Oak. Maybe it’s not how you want me. Not exactly. ButGod, do I want you. All the time. I want you near. I want to hear your voice, feel you, spend my time by your side. I want you to fuck me all the goddamn time, and not just because it feels good, but because it’syou. I wantyou. If that’s not attraction, what is?”
His throat bobs in a rough swallow, a sheen in his eyes as he stops beside the edge of the bed.
“But truth be told,” I go on softly, “I’d want you even without the sex.”
“If you ever aren’t interested—”
“Then I’ll be honest about it,” I cut in, understanding the direction of his thoughts. “You’ve never initiated anything, Oak. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. But you can. I’ll tell you if I’m not in the mood.”
“I’d never pressure you,” he says vehemently, bending down until his hands are planted on the bed to either side of me, his face a foot away, the smell of the ranch and his sweat a gentlepresence with his proximity. I don’t hate it one bit. “I don’t just want you for sex either, Law.”
“I know that. I do.”
“Good. Because it shouldn’t ever feel like an obligation. I don’t want it to. I only ever want you to feel good.”
“I know,” I say again, running my palms up the outsides of Oakley’s arms. “Everything with you feels good. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. You with me…it feels better than good.”
He lets out a shaky breath, his eyes dipping down my body again, a heat in his gaze he doesn’t try to hide. “And right now?”
“Right now,” I say, my words measured, “I’d really like for you to join me on this bed. Preferably naked and with some part of you inside some part of me.”
He laughs, a roughened sound. “In that case…”
Oakley leans closer, dipping his head at the last moment to brush his lips over my neck. I arch my head to the side, and Oakley sucks a gentle kiss against my skin. He doesn’t stay long, leaning away to open the nightstand drawer beside the bed. He pulls out a bottle of lube and sets it beside me.
“If you want, why don’t you get a finger or two inside of yourself while I shower,” he suggests. “It’ll give me something to think about in the next three and a half minutes before I can make it back to you.”
“Should I time you?” I tease.
“Not necessary,” he assures me. “There’s no keeping me away.”
I pick up the lube as Oakley backs steadily toward the door. He groans when I slide my heel closer to myself, the move hitching my leg up. He doesn’t stay to watch, even as it looks like he wants to. His shoulder clips the doorway in his eagerness to get away so he can return to me. Ten seconds later, the shower turnson.
I take my time, wetting my fingers before rubbing over myself slowly. When something hits the shower floor, possibly Oakley’s shampoo bottle, I huff a small laugh, the man’s haste making my chest warm. I have two fingers inside of myself when the water turns off, my cock half-hard and a steady thrum of anticipation lighting my veins.
Oakley is still damp when he steps back through the door, nude and hard himself. His hair is mussed, as if he ran the towel over his head a couple times and called it good. Some water is dripping down his chest and legs he doesn’t seem to notice, his entire focus on me. Specifically on the fingers I have curled inside of myself.
He steps forward without a word, one knee on the bed beside my bent leg. He swipes the lube, the look in his eyes almost predatory. It’s the same look he gets every time he edges me, as he called it. Intense concentration and a sort of hunger that makes me feel like maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, being eaten whole.
When Oakley’s finger joins my own, I can’t stop the sound that breaks from my lips.
“Too much?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No. Not at all. I like the stretch.”
He rumbles a low sound, his finger working a rhythm opposite to my own. The sensation has my breath stuttering, and when Oakley brings his other hand to my cock, thumb rubbing up the underside like a caress, I nearly lose track of what I’m doing.
“Love getting you like this,” he says, his finger toying with me continuously, his thumb doing the same. “When you melt against the bed, boneless and trusting. You look like you’re in heaven.”
“’Cause I am,” I manage. “Everything you do to me is heaven.”
