Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 96112 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96112 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Lucas leaned over the island and rested his chin in his palm. “Has that changed? Do you think you’d be able to hand over control now—or try it out?”
I nodded slowly, assuming he meant if I’d like to try in general, not necessarily try for them. “I think so. I mean…it’s what I ultimately want. I’m stubborn sometimes—and I get scared, but I want to.”
He smiled slightly.
Colt picked the little sticker from an apple, then tilted his head at me. “Why wouldn’t you undress for him?”
The discomfort grew, and I struggled to maintain eye contact. “I have a lot of scarring,” I replied stiffly. “I played with him before I was finished with recovery, though. I’ve had—” Fuck, I hated talking about this. “Um, skin transplants, and—” I lifted my right arm a bit. “The past year, I’ve been going to a tattoo artist.” My right arm was the one that’d been damaged the most, and my forearm was almost completely covered in dark shadows. Flames that were nearly black.
Colt shifted toward me. “May I?”
I knitted my brow in confusion until I realized he wanted to…get even closer. I did my best to control my blush, and I scooted out my chair a bit so he would be seated right in front of me on the countertop. I coughed lightly and eyed his legs, one on each side of me, and pushed in the stool again.
He didn’t seem to think twice about the proximity, or the fact that he was sitting much higher up than I was. Meaning I only had to drop my gaze a few inches and his crotch was right there. He was more focused on my tattoos, and he brought my left arm—oh God, no, what was he doing? I stiffened. He was inspecting my ink way too closely.
“Take a deep breath.” He brushed his fingers over my arm, and I swallowed hard. Nausea crawled up my throat, and all I could do was stare in horror.
I didn’t like this. I didn’t like it at all, and I wanted him to stop. I wanted it to be over. He would see the ugliness beneath the body art. He wouldn’t be fooled by ink.
Breathe—he wanted me to breathe. Yeah, right. I gulped. It was the best I could do. My eyes started stinging, and it was followed by my vision blurring. No, no, no, he had to stop. Panic rose, and—
“You’re a strong boy,” he murmured. Then he dipped down and chastely kissed one of the tattoos before lowering my arm again.
“No, I’m not.” My voice came out strangled and distorted, and I could not feel weaker. Or more pathetic.
“If you wanna be wrong, that’s fine.” He nudged up my chin and offered a small smile. “This was rough for you, yeah?” He didn’t wait for a response. “Come on, let’s go watch the first movie.”
Lucas inclined his head. “You two go ahead. I’ll get us some snacks. But perhaps a blanket on the couch where we’ll sit? It’s too white and beautiful to get guacamole on it.”
Five
I released a shaky breath, glad the ordeal was over, and kept a safe distance as I followed Colt into the living room. Wanting him to pick a seat first so I could sit down farther away, I walked over to the flat screen and fiddled with the PlayStation. I didn’t know if they had Netflix or DVDs in mind, but I might as well prepare for both.
“What used to hang up there?” Colt asked.
I looked at him over my shoulder and found him staring at the empty spot above the big couch, and I decided he was too observant. Two screws were still attached to the wall where an enlarged family photo used to hang. I’d had it taken down shortly after the funeral.
“A picture.” I grabbed the two remotes from the entertainment center and set them down on the coffee table. Where was he going to sit? The sectional or the armchair? I was sort of hoping he and Lucas would get comfortable on the couch. Then I could drape a blanket around me and keep to myself in the chair.
“Family picture?” Colt guessed.
I suppressed a sigh. “Yes.”
“I understand.” He nodded at the corner of the sectional. “Wanna set up camp there in the corner with me?”
So much, but hell no. If I’d been a normal guy, maybe I could’ve basked in the attraction I felt and gotten lost in the hope of playing with Colt and Lucas. But I wasn’t normal. I couldn’t relax; I couldn’t shake the anxiousness. And if I sat next to either of them, they would, in one way or another, rattle me further, and they’d discover what a moron I was. What I needed was composure. That way, they would stay.
Fear struck me when I noticed Colt was watching me. Worse, he was coming toward me, and he came to a stop approximately one whole step after he should have.