He flexes his hips, and the iron ridge of his hard-on against my stomach robs me of breath. I break off to gasp for air, only to have his mouth cover mine again. Long, deep glides of his tongue suck the salt of his own skin from my mouth. My hunger increases, roaring its gluttonous request. He cups my breast, squeezes, and tugs my nipple. He claws at my body as I rob from his mouth.
I lurch back to break the kiss, keeping my chin tucked, eyes to his shirt. “I’m going to jump out of my skin.”
His hand leaves my breast and wraps around my back to pull me to his chest. I’m grateful for the closeness so he can’t see my eyes.
“Me too.” He’s breathing heavy. “Haven’t felt anything like it.”
“I haven’t either.” I’m aching for him so badly that I run my hand between us and grip his hard-on.
He sucks air through his teeth but doesn’t push me away.
“Can we?” I roll my forehead against him with impatience, hoping he doesn’t say no.
He kisses the top of my head. “We can, but like last night, I have to do it my way.” He sounds embarrassed.
My stomach twists. “I don’t care.” I squeeze him tight. “Whatever you need.”
“There’s something I need to talk to you about first. If we’re going to try this, I need to be honest with you.”
I nod, and the ache of arousal turns to the pinch of tense muscles. Honest with me. The opposite of what I’ve been with him. “Um, sure, that’s fine. Give me a sec?”
He presses his nose to the top of my head and inhales before pressing his lips there. “Sure, baby.”
With a final squeeze, I turn and head to my bathroom, maintaining eye contact with the floor the entire time. Once inside, I close the door and grab my colored contacts. Before putting them, in I stare at my reflection.
Whatever he has to talk to me about obviously has something to do with sex. He’s made it clear he doesn’t remember his childhood, so it can’t be about his abuse. Usually the idea of a heart-to-heart with Rex would make me excited, but now I’m afraid it’ll bring up things that muddy the electricity firing between us.
I lean in and place one light brown lens in at a time. A thought, poignant and unwelcome, crashes in. I’m covering up and he’s stripping down.
The heavy weight of my guilt presses against my shoulders. My mind works to justify my cowardliness. Telling him everything will only ruin what little progress we’ve made. Or maybe you’re just afraid he’ll hate you.
Every day that passes in silence is another twenty-four hours of betrayal. I’m going to tell him, and when he hears me explain, he’ll understand why I waited so long. He has to. Right?
“Don’t go there, Mac. Not tonight.” With a steadying grip on the countertop, I take slow breaths. Mac doesn’t have secrets. That’s who Rex wants to be with. Don’t fuck this up.
I smooth my hands over my hair and make my way back to Rex. I pass through the living room. No Rex. Kitchen? Empty. Huh.
I go to the sliding glass door and look out to see him silhouetted by the pool. He’s in a squat, elbows resting on his knees, head in his hands.
With a hard gulp to push down my nerves, I slide open the door. The sound gets his attention and he stands, but doesn’t move toward me.
Covering the distance between us, I stop a couple feet away, making sure not to crowd him. He’s looking thoughtfully at the pool water that looks black without the light.
“Everything okay?”
He motions to the table and chairs by the door. “Can we sit?”
I grab a chair and drop in it. He pulls out the one next to me, turns it to face mine, and has a seat. “There are . . . things, um, about me that are probably not like most guys you’ve been with.”
I know. “Rex, you don’t—”
He holds up his hand. “Let me explain.”
I nod for him to go on.
He digs his fists into his eyes then drops to rest his elbows on his knees as he was by the pool. The look is pure defeat, and seeing a strong fighter like Rex curled in on himself twists my gut.
He tilts his head up to meet my eyes. And like the pool water, the usual blue looks like black in the dark. “You already know about the, uh . . . my home and the control thing—”
“I know, but, Rex, this conversation obviously makes you uncomfortable. I don’t want you to share with me anything that you don’t want to.” Because it reminds me of all the ways that you’re strong and I’m weak.
“The way I see it, the direction this”—he motions between us with a few flicks of his hand—“is going? I’ll sacrifice a little comfort now to avoid the situation that may or may not happen later.”
“Situation?”
He exhales and drops his head into his hands, plowing his fingers through his hair. I want to comfort him, kneel down at his feet, wrap my arms around his body, and take it all away. If only the sheer power of my love and need for him could erase a multitude of ugly, I swear, if he’d let me, I think it could.
But this isn’t the time for hugs and confessions of love. This is my chance to shut up and listen. I lean toward him and cover my mouth to make sure I don’t interrupt him again.