HENRY LEFT THE next morning. It sucked, but when his lips brushed mine, it felt like we were finally starting something real. And surprisingly, I wanted that real more than ever before. We kept in touch with multiple daily calls, and as the weeks passed by, I found myself falling for the man on the other end of the phone.
To say Henry was a busy man was an understatement, but he always made time for me. It wasn’t enough though. He still hated to fly, but it was kind of my specialty, so the first day off he had, I grabbed a red-eye and flew out to see him. We didn’t leave the hotel room for a full twenty-four hours. We didn’t exactly put clothes on, either. While my walls were crumbling, I wasn’t ready to give myself to him completely. And he never pushed me. His mouth touched every inch of my body, including the few times he snuck his tongue down the seam of my balls. I nearly came unglued the first time his tongue swirled around the sensitive flesh. But, then again, this was Henry. He had that effect on me regardless of where his tongue was touching.
After that, it was two long weeks before we saw each other again. But it was for the best. We got to know each other, and that kind of comfort only turned my already-desperate desire to be with him up a notch—or twelve.
There wasn’t a ton of conversation when Henry showed up at my house that night. Those seconds were better spent with our mouths crushing together as we blindly made it to my bedroom, clothing left to litter the hallway. I didn’t even make it to the bed before I came down his throat. I couldn’t get enough of him. And, as quickly as he’d lost himself with my hand working between his legs, it was clear he couldn’t get enough of me, either.
He was lounging like a sated god on my pillows with his hands folded behind his head when I returned from the bathroom and tossed the damp washcloth on his stomach.
“Shit. Cold,” he gasped, his abs rippling as he scrambled to pull it away.
I fought to suppress my smirk. “Sorry.”
“Yeah, you look real sorry.”
I swayed my head in consideration. “Actually, I’m not sorry.”
A glowing, white smile formed on his lips. “Not at all?”
Judging by the hope etched on his face, we weren’t talking about the washcloth anymore, but my answer remained the same. “Not at all.”
If possible, his smile grew wider as he looked down and cleaned his stomach.
That smile did something to me. I couldn’t put my finger on what, but I gave up trying to figure it out and decided to put my fingers on him instead. Crawling into bed, I flipped to my stomach and draped an arm over his hips.
Part of my mind screamed for me to get up, get dressed, and use any possible barrier to distance myself from him. However, I didn’t care what my head had to say anymore. With his breath on my neck and his heart slamming in my ear, I knew what I wanted.
Him.
He tangled our legs together and brushed the hair off my forehead. “What are you thinking about?” he asked.
“Nothing.” But it seemed distant even to my own ears.
“Look at me,” he urged gently. “What’s going on in that sexy head?”
I smiled, tilting my head back to catch his eyes. “Just thinking about us. That’s all.”
The skin on his forehead wrinkled. “What about us?”
“How good this feels. Just being here with you. I never expected—” To crave you so deeply. And not only in the bedroom. But in everyday life.
“Evan. This. Me and you. It’s not a bad thing.”
“I know.”
“Don’t fight it, okay? Just trust me that I’m in this with you. One hundred percent. Every step of the way,” he implored before leaning down and placing a reassuring kiss on my lips.
Filling my lungs with all that was Henry, I allowed his promises to infuse me. The calm left behind was confounding, but I’d never wanted to embrace something more.
“Do you trust me?” I asked.
“Yes,” he replied immediately.
“Good. Let me fly you to your next show.”
His arms spasmed. “Evan…”
I pushed up on my elbows. “That’s my job.”
“This isn’t about jobs.”
“No. You’re right. It’s about me. And I fucking hate the idea of anyone else flying you. Or even driving you, for that matter. I should be there.”
His blue eyes warmed. “You hate it?”
“Despise might be the better word.”
He bit his lip and bashfully cut his eyes away. It was so unlike Henry it made me chuckle.
“I despise it too,” he whispered.
“Then let me fly you. You want me to trust you? Consider it done. But you have to trust me too. I swear on my life I won’t let anything happen to you up there.”
His eyes dimmed. “It’s just… I had a really bad experience in the air a few years ago.”
I rolled to my back, and he followed me over until his front was plastered to my side.
“You know this is where I give you the whole ‘flying is safer than driving’ inspirational speech. They teach it the first day of flight school. Plus, I’m a damn good pilot. You’ll be safe with me.”
He dragged his finger over the curve of my pecs. “Maybe, but even the best can’t prevent an act of God?”