Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 104138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
“She’s there all the time, so I reckon so, yes. And Tess is, I don’t know, different. She smiles more than rolls her eyes these days.”
“Wow. Can’t wait to see that.”
“I felt closer to you here,” I explain. “But now you’re home, I’ll leave whenever you’re ready.”
“What if I don’t want to be ready?”
Huh?
“What if I don’t want you to leave?”
“You mean…ever?”
“Yes.”
Whoa. “Are you asking me to move in with you?”
“Yes.”
“But I make a mess.”
“Then you’ll clean it up,” he says, a sly wink pinching his eye.
“I’m unorganised. I eat cheap food. I dance naked to Taylor Swift when I get out of the shower.”
“I like Taylor Swift.” James grins. “And I like seeing you naked, too.”
Tiny bubbles, filled with a mixture of nerves and excitement, swell and pop in my belly. “I can’t pay you much.”
“I don’t want your money, Theodore.”
“Well I’m not living here for nothing. I didn’t sign up for a sugar daddy. This is a partnership, and I want to pay my way.”
“You make it sound like a business deal. Where would you like me to sign?”
Jerking my leg, I kick him in the shin. “Stop being a wanker. I’m serious.”
“Serious about moving in with me?” There’s a glimmer of hope in his rich brown eyes. It’s infectious, and as much as I want to keep a straight face, my smile betrays me. “I’ll need to talk to Tess. See if she can manage the rent on her own.”
“Theodore, is it a yes?”
“Yes,” I breathe, enthusiasm fizzing in my chest. “It’s a yes!”
James’ lips crash into mine, stealing my breath for a moment. Oh my God…The feel of him, the taste… “Fuck I’ve missed you,” I say into his mouth, gripping the back of his head, keeping him close.
Our tongues dance together, our lips brushing, stubble grating, in a slow, savouring kiss. This is where I’m meant to be, with James, forever.
Wriggling my hips, I adjust my body, trying to loosen the tight denim straining against my hard cock. I want him so badly. I need to feel his skin on mine. Walking my fingers down to the hem of his shirt, I start to lift, my knuckles skimming the faint trail of hair on his stomach.
“Wait,” he urges, grabbing my wrist. His grip is weak, his nerves damaged, but I pull back immediately, concern flooding my veins when I see the look of fear on his face. After pulling his t-shirt back down, he tugs on his sleeve, unwittingly revealing the cause of his anxiety.
I haven’t seen his scars yet. I haven’t pushed him to show me, but, “It’s time, James,” I say, kneeling up and pushing him onto his back. Lifting my leg, I straddle his hips, pinching the bottom of his shirt between my fingers.
Slowly, I tease the white material upwards. The unwarranted shame pouring from James is palpable as I guide it over his head and it breaks my heart. I don’t look at his wrists straightaway, feeling as terrified as he does about my reaction. First, I toss his shirt behind me and kiss his lips, lingering there for a moment before moving onto his chest.
His old scars are familiar. They no longer fill me with sadness. They’re a part of him, and he’s beautiful, but after kissing each one, my palm smoothing the soft flesh hugging his faded muscles, I know it’s time to see, and accept, the new ones.
“You don’t ever need to hide from me, James,” I say, my eyes trained on his as I run my fingers down his colourful arm.
He gapes at me with curiosity through hooded eyes as I trace the raised lines with the pad of my thumb. “I’m going to look now, okay?”
He nods once, so slightly it almost wasn’t there.
Conscious of each deep breath I take, I let my gaze travel down his arm, over the delicate cherry blossoms inked onto his skin, and to his wrist.
Oh, James…
I follow the angry, crisscrossed scars that rip into the lilac peony with my fingers before lowering my head and resting my lips on them. I do the same to his other arm, the scars more pronounced there without tattoos to hide behind, and then lay my cheek against his chest.
“Do they make you angry with me?” James whispers with a tremor in his voice. “You can be honest with me.”
“No,” I breathe. “I’m grateful.”
“Grateful?”
“Grateful that I’m able to see them, see you, like this. Healing.”
Closing my eyes, I kiss them again, before pressing my chest to his and nuzzling his neck. The scar on his throat from the tracheostomy is small, but red and puckered, and I kiss there too before whispering, “I love you, James. Inside and out. I’m sorry for not making you see that sooner.”
“It was never about my feelings for you,” he murmurs, twiddling a strand of my hair around his finger. “You do know that, right? You didn’t let me down, Theodore. There’s nothing you could’ve done.”
I want to believe that.
“Sometimes I wish we could’ve met at a different point in our lives. Talking to Peter made me realise that this has been building since my father’s death. That was my trigger. I was slipping long before I met you. You’ve only ever known me during the worst part of my life, and I wish I could change that.”
“I don’t,” I say, my words oozing conviction. I lift my head, looking at him. “I fell in love with you at your worst. I’ve had some of the best times of my life with you at, as you say, your worst. So I can’t even imagine how special life will be when I get to experience your best.”
James smiles, cupping my cheeks with his hands. “How do you do that?” he asks with a mesmerising glint of wonder in his eyes. “See the positive in everything?”
“Well, it’s easier when you’re not a whack-job.”
Laughing, James smacks my arse, hard enough to smart even through the denim.
“We’re going to be okay, James. You’re going to be okay.”