He turned to his side, facing me with his head propped on his elbow. “I’ll stay next time. I like this—being close to you, touching you.” He captured my nipple between his fingertips, teasing the hard tip before cupping my breast gently.
His tender touch threatened to rev me up all over again. The few guys I’d been with in the past were always once and done. Will had turned that expectation on its head, challenging my stamina while more than proving his own. I had a feeling Ian wasn’t much different, and a part of me wanted to find out.
“I care about you, Liv. Never doubt that,” he said, his eyes turning serious. “Will does too. You’re important. What we have here, it’s important to both of us.”
“I know. I guess I’m still trying to wrap my head around everything that’s happening with us.”
With the return to coherent thought, I was thrust into the odd reality that I was sleeping with two men. Two very different men. The way they carried themselves, the way they smelled and fucked and talked was uniquely them. They shared an apartment, a passion for unbridled sex, and me.
Ian brought his hand to my chin and lifted my gaze to his. “I want you to be happy, Liv. You just have to tell me what you want, okay?”
My chest tightened. “You seem to already know.”
Tonight had been amazing in so many ways.
“Ian, you don’t know what tonight means to me.” I swallowed over the emotion rising to the surface again. “I can’t explain it. It’s been so long since I’ve painted. Losing that part of my life has been kind of devastating. You’re the first person who’s ever noticed anything was missing.”
He held my gaze for a moment. “I know what it’s like to live with that kind of emptiness. I don’t want that for you. You’re talented, truly. It’s a goddamn crime if you let anything stop you.”
Tears stung my eyes. I hid them by nuzzling into his shoulder. His strong arms came around me like they belonged there. I settled against him with a shaky sigh, feeling grateful and safe and cherished all at once. He held me tight, his strength surrounding me as silence stretched between us.
We lay that way, entwined and lazily caressing each other as the seconds turned to minutes. I traced the jagged edges of his tattoo. After a moment, he caught my hand and brought my fingertips to his lips, gently kissing them.
“Tell me about your dad,” I whispered.
He turned his stare to the ceiling, his expression becoming taut. “I don’t really like talking about it.”
I let our fingers slide together and rest on his chest, under his heartbeat, strong and steady. “Is that why you don’t let yourself get close to people?”
He was silent a moment, and I worried that I was pushing too far.
“Maybe,” he finally said. “I trust you, Liv. It just hurts. I want to be stronger than the grief, you know? It’s not easy to show that side of myself to someone else. Especially someone I want to be strong for.”
I lifted up on my elbow and stared down into his beautiful eyes. I stroked down his nose and over his full lips before kissing him.
“I know you’re strong,” I whispered against him. “And I think sometimes allowing yourself to feel it all makes you even stronger, even if it hurts. You don’t need to prove anything to me.”
His features were pinched with doubt. I didn’t want to push him. Whatever was eating at him had been festering for a long time. If he wanted to tell me about it, he would. I lowered again, relaxing against his chest.
His voice was low, tight with emotion as he began to speak. “My parents were crazy about each other.”
I held my breath, waiting for him to continue. He stroked his fingers through mine rhythmically.
“They had to be to have five kids together and still be as in love as they were at the end. They were inseparable. We were all close. Things weren’t always easy. We struggled sometimes, but we always had each other. I grew up knowing, without a doubt, that we could get through anything together. My sisters and I grew up, and we did the usual things. Family dinners and holidays, but the past couple years my dad started getting really worn down. We noticed but didn’t think much of it. Figured he was just getting older and slowing down a bit. Then he collapsed one day when we were doing a job. The ambulance rushed him to the hospital. He died a few days later. I watched him take his last breaths.”
His grief seemed to permeate my skin, tugging painfully at my heart. “What happened?”
He exhaled a shaky breath. “Cancer. We found out that he’d visited the doctor a couple years earlier. They’d detected it then, but he denied any treatment. He didn’t think it was worth the fight.” He squeezed his eyes closed and pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “Felt like someone cut something out of me.”
I wrapped my arms around his torso and held him tight. I listened to the sound of his heart and his breathing. I couldn’t imagine losing a parent, even as strained as our relationships were at times.
“I wasted so much time, Liv. I’m angry because he let me waste it. I’m angry because he didn’t fight to keep our family together longer.”