Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
I ordered a pizza, trying to ignore the jittery sensation inside me. Tried to lock up that room in my brain where days like today with my parents hid. Worked to pretend there wasn’t a part of me that just…needed Eli tonight.
My heart jumped at the knock on my door. It was the pizza guy. He was just walking away when Elijah came out in those pajamas he’d been wearing the first night he’d come over.
“Why are you smiling at me like that?”
Because you’re here. Because I like you, and I’m scared, but I need you tonight, and here you are.
“Nothing.” I shook my head.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” What I didn’t say was, I am now.
We went inside and ate pizza. He talked about ballet, and I sat there and listened to him. Taking in the sound of his voice and the way his lips moved around words and wishing I were a different type of man. That I wasn’t scared and could call him my boyfriend and tell him how I felt.
When we finished eating, he asked, “What’s your very favorite animated movie?”
The tips of my ears went hot. “Beauty and the Beast,” I admitted. “Why?”
“Oh, Shaw.” He smiled woefully. “Because something tells me you need to watch it tonight, even though you’ll never tell me that.” He looked so sad, and I felt like I was fucking this up already, like I wasn’t doing right by him. But Christ, what he’d said also meant more to me than I would ever have the words for.
“I’d like that.”
He sat on the couch, and I got the movie playing before resting on the opposite end. He had his legs curled up to the side, like he always did, so I tugged them until he ended up with his feet in my lap. I knew getting back into ballet had been rough for him, so I dug my thumbs into the bottoms of his feet and began to massage them.
“What are you doing?”
“Baking a cake. Duh.” I rolled my eyes.
“Shaw…”
“Let me,” I said because part of me loved moments like this, enjoyed taking care of someone when I could.
“Okay,” Elijah replied softly.
We watched the movie, and I massaged his feet, his calves. Halfway through, he said, “Come here,” and I went. Elijah lay on his back, and I rested between his legs, my front on his groin, my head on his chest. He ran his fingers through my hair and kissed the top of my head like I’d done to him many times before.
It felt right, and I savored it. No one had ever taken care of me this way. Sure, I’d fucked and cuddled people, but this felt like he was doing something inside, healing the deep aches and bruises on my soul, simply by holding me.
And I knew, as much as it wasn’t supposed to happen, that I was in love with him. Hopelessly, stupidly in love with him.
My parents filled my head, the pain of Richie walking away settled in my chest, and I didn’t know if I could risk letting him know I’d fallen. Or if I could continue to let myself do any of this with him at all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Elijah
Something was definitely wrong with Shaw. I could feel it in the way he rested against me, the way he gave me his weight and let me hold it, the way he relaxed into me. But then, I’d known it before then too. I saw it in the dimness of his eyes, the lack of that spark that was so contagious and classic Shaw.
And he’d called me. He’d massaged my feet, and held me close, and fuck, did I want that to mean something. I wanted to mean something to him. Wanted the things he’d told me he could never give: a relationship, love.
I wanted to give myself to him.
I cupped his cheek and tilted his head. Shaw got the message, pulling his face from my chest and looking at me. I tugged him closer, and he came, kept coming until our lips were pressed together. He moaned into my mouth, and I swallowed it down, hungered for more—of this, of him, of everything.
Our tongues tangled together in a give-and-take. I led, tasted his mouth, before he did the same. My cock was already hard when his hand slid down to stroke it.
“I want to suck you,” he said, and as good as that felt, it wasn’t what I wanted tonight. We’d given each other more blowjobs and handjobs than I could count, but he never tried to go further. I knew that was because of me, because he knew I wanted more than he could give, and sex would muddy it.
“I want you,” I said against his lips.
Shaw tensed. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t.”