My fingers flick my nipples, and then I slide my hands slowly down my chest, each finger following every valley until I reach the waistband of my pants, my fingers curling slowly into the fabric.
Then I stop and wait. I watch him as one dark eyebrow lifts.
“Teasing me, Baby Boy?” A slow smirk curves across his lips. His tongue peeks out, and I watch as he slowly licks his bottom lip. I whimper as it disappears.
“That might not be a good idea, Eli.”
An intensity that I haven’t felt in years coils low in my stomach, and the promise beneath his voice ripples through me like a jolt of lightning.
Holding his gaze, I hook my thumbs into the waistband of my pants and boxers, easing them down my legs. I step free of them and toss them into the basket, never once looking away.
His eyes stay locked on mine.
CJ watches me, his eyes following my every movement. His gaze drops to my cock, and I watch the slow sweep of his tongue across his bottom lip. His breathing catches, growing uneven. His raspy pants sound loud in the otherwise silent room.
When his eyes find mine again, they are almost black with a slight blue edge, and they are fixed solely on me, as though I’m the only person in the world.
His jaw flexes.
“God, you’re fucking beautiful,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. The way he looks at me steals what little breath I have left. “Absolutely perfect, Baby Boy.”
He takes a single step toward me, and I drop my gaze on instinct.
Years of conditioning tighten around my throat, pulling me back before I can stop it. The old need to make myself smaller, quieter, lesser. For one terrifying second, Adrian’s voice slips back into my head.
Then CJ speaks. “Look at me, Eli.” His voice is quiet. “Baby Boy… look at me.”
Slowly, I lift my eyes to his and see him: the scar on his cheek, his broad shoulders, the strong hands that have held me together when I couldn’t hold myself together. I see his love.
His hand rises to cradle my cheek. “There you are,” he whispers.
Soft kisses brush my jaw, then my lips, patient and unhurried until the last of the tension drains from my body and he feels the exact moment I let go.
His voice falls to a gentle murmur, the kind of quiet reassurance that steadies a frightened child, as he says, “Baby, when I look at you, I don’t see any of that. I just see you.” He steps closer until our chests touch. “I know you see the scars. I know you still see everything Adrian left behind. But when I look at you…”
He kisses me. “I see the strongest person I’ve ever known. Nothing about you needs fixing, Baby Boy.”
His fingertips drift across my cheek before settling against my lips. He catches my bottom lip between his thumb andforefinger, giving it the gentlest tug. A spark shoots through my body as he kisses me slowly, his tongue licking into my mouth, in smooth, slow strokes. He moves to my cheek, and his voice is like a caress against my skin.
“And, Eli, there isn’t a single thing I’d change about you.”
Kiss.
“Not one scar.”
Nip
“Not one fear.”
Kiss.
“Not one part of you. You’re perfect to me.”
Nip.
He looks at me then, never looking away. “Those scars are part of your story. They are proof of everything you survived. But they aren’t why I love you.”
CJ loves me. The truth crashes into me so hard my heart forgets how to beat.Can I be loved?
