Twenty Seven
Noah
Updating my reading journal, I write down all the books I found online today that I want to try. While being home these past two weeks has been great for Jamie’s and my non-relationship, it’s also been amazing for my Tbr. I’ve read so much. Earlier today, Jamie had a bad pain episode, and I put his ass on the couch to rest with no room for argument.
While we lay there on the couch watching dramas and listening to an audiobook, I went online and found a ton of new books I want to try, bringing up some titles to Jamie. I never knew how fun it could be to listen to an audiobook with someone. Watching Jamie get frustrated at certain parts was funny. I loved the subtle heat that sprinkled across his nose and flamed his ears when a particular dirty scene played out.
Jamie shifts, brushing my thighs. This couch is big enough for us both, but Jamie is tall. Sitting on the opposite end, surrounded by pillows, he draws, while I sit on the other end and our legs battle for space. I could’ve gotten up and gone to the recliner, but when Jamie had woken up from his nap and came to sit with me, who was I to tell him no? “Are you okay?”
Looking up, he frowns. “Yeah, why?”
“You keep moving.” Looking down, I can see his legs are at a weird angle. “Here.” Moving a bit, I grab his calf, pushing one of his legs between mine, then do the same with my foot, moving it carefully over Jamie’s hip. Fitting comfortably now with our legs interlocking, I look up, letting those dark eyes wash over me. “There.” I grab my pen and finish writing down the titles, but feel his eyes on me still. “What?”
I watch him bite the corner of his lip, and he shakes his head with a soft smile. It may just be me, but things seem to have changed. His stern features have been replaced, making him seem younger and lighter. It may just be me, though. “What are you doing?”
“I was looking at books while you slept. Some you’d like too.” Jamie isn’t a fan of the dark romances, he’s more into the cute ones. The warm, fuzzy feeling ones, which I think is fucking adorable.
I also know to be careful with the trigger warnings because abuse of any kind is out of the question, something I unfortunately found out. I’m very careful now, vetting the ones we read together.
“Can I see what you’re writing?” Feeling insecure, I turn the book over to hand it to him. The page I’m currently designing has little doodles, stickers, and washi tape for decoration. “This is really pretty.” Jamie smiles. Light and happy. That’s how he seems lately.
“Are you high?”
Smiling sheepishly, he admits. “A little. Sorry. The pain is terrible today. I fucked up, I fear.” Jamie still won’t tell me what happened when he got hurt. “You did a great job drawing in this.”
“I’m color coding the genres, so if I want sports, enemies to lovers, a girl’s love, a boy’s love, whatever, I can easily find it.” Feeling my face flame, I cannot believe I just said all that nerdy bullshit out loud. “That was the nerdiest thing I’ve ever said.”
Jamie laughs. “It is pretty nerdy.” I can’t help tracking the flash of silver as he licks his bottom lip. “It’s very artistic.”
“It’s not art; it’s organization.”
“Art is whatever a person interprets it to be. This is very artistic of you, Noah.” Face hot, Jamie goes back to his sketch, but I watch him a moment, sinking back against the couch. Jamie’s foot brushes my side, making heat pool in my belly. Returning to the notebook, I finish the list, with Jamie’s body still more than half on my mind.
Jamie focuses on whatever he’s drawing as I close my book and lie back against the pillows, sinking into them. Reaching down, I cup the back of his calf, squeezing, and my fingers tickle through the hair on his leg.
Looking up, he smiles as I massage his calf then goes back to his drawing, keeping his eyes between me and the page. Slowly, my mind begins to swim, my eyes sinking and my mind blanking into nothing.
It’s dark.
Opening my eyes, I look around, focusing on the dim room. I feel a weight against me and see Jamie’s legs tangled with mine. His eyes are closed, his chest slowly rising. Shit, how long have we been sleeping. I didn’t mean to fall asleep; I was just so comfortable.
Sitting up, I try not to jostle Jamie when I hear something crinkle.
A piece of paper lies on my chest. Grabbing it, I hold it up. It’s a sketch—a rough one, but still so damn good—of me lying down like I am now with my bullet journal in my hand. In the picture, Jamie’s legs intertwine with my own. Swallowing, I look up and blink.
Was he working on this the entire time? I take the picture, stretching to put it on the coffee table, careful not to move Jamie too much. Watching his chest rise and fall I can’t form any coherent thoughts. Instead, I touch him, my hand gliding up his pant leg, soothing one hairy leg before sliding behind to squeeze his calf.
This is all too confusing.
I lie there for a bit, massaging his leg and watching him sleep, and something blooms inside me—some feeling I can’t name. Months ago I had no home, no job, no friends except for Mark. Now, I have this entire little life that I love deeply. I have a great job and a cute place to live with the most amazing man I’ve ever met.
It’s all I’ve ever wanted.
How could he feel nothing?
Swallowing hard, I try not to let my emotions take me under. It’s stupid. It’s dumb to be this upset. Jamie’s been clear about our relationship. He’s never brought up the desire for more despite me being the only person he puts his hands on.
An ugly thought pops into my brain.
When he got hurt weeks ago... was he with someone? He still refuses to tell me what he was doing. So, maybe. Sometimes doing things like that can stress the body, but would he really sleep with someone else?
Fuck. Why didn’t I think of that?
I want to tell myself he wouldn’t, but why wouldn’t he? We aren’t official. It would make sense. Night after night, lost in our own little bubble, Jamie still doesn’t want me for real. There’s something I can’t give him and I want to so badly. How does he not feel the same safety and warmth that I do?
Swiping my eyes with the back of my hand, I take a steadying breath.
I have to get out of here.
After I disentangle myself from Jamie’s limbs, I come into my room for a breather. I’m angry with myself as I clean up my room. It’s still littered with books and becoming a problem. I really need to stop looking for the perfect bookshelf and just settle for a shelf so I won’t burn the house down with this fire hazard.
I slump onto the floor, grabbing a pile of books. I nearly slept the day away, and between my ugly thoughts earlier and sitting in this hopeless mess I’m too wired now. I only have myself to blame. I do this every fucking time. My emotions get the best of me nine times out of ten and I fall for men who never feel the same for me.
This time, though, it’s worse.
Way worse.
Heat squeezes my eyes, and I try to focus on making my bed but collapse onto it instead. I feel so overwhelmed. With the mess in my room or the mess in my heart, I’m not sure. I need to keep my hands and mind busy. My mind’s too cloudy to read, though. A romance right now may actually break me.
“What’s wrong?”
“Huh?” My heart practically leaps from my chest. This would be a lot easier if just the sight of him didn’t make my insides melt. “Oh. Nothing.” I can’t come up with any other excuse as I blink back the sting I feel. “Just been lazing around. I wanted to clean up my room. I need to do something about these books.” And I maybe kind of think I’m in love with you. Possibly. Which is pointless because you’ll never love me back. Also, I think you fucked someone weeks ago, but I’m afraid to ask and confirm it.
“Oh.”
When I don’t hear him leave, I turn to the door to see him just watching me. “What?”
Jamie holds up the body-paint markers. “My back kind of hurts from lying on the couch. Do you want to draw on me while I use the heating pad?” I’d let him use it anyway. I know he knows that. Still, it means that Jamie wants to hang out with me some more, which both delights and confuses me.
“Okay.” I let him get comfortable while I plug it in, moving to fit it behind his back, ignoring the warm masculine scent of him. It isn’t my body wash. It’s just him. Leaning forward, he reaches behind himself and takes off his shirt. I can’t for the fucking life of me remember how to breathe. His large body is my personal playground.
And someone else’s if my assumption is right.
“Did you take your pain meds?” He nods sleepily
Depending on which ones he did take, he’s about to be a very loopy and sleepy boy. I get on the bed and take the markers, trying to figure out the best way to do this. “Can I do your chest?”
Jamie nods. “Stop treating me like I’m made of glass. I won’t break.”
Still, I carefully straddle his thighs. I’d take whatever real estate I could get. “Will you ever get more tattoos?” I’ve always had the feeling there’s something deeply personal about Jamie’s tattoos that affects him. I don’t know what and don’t want to upset him by asking. If he wants me to know, he’ll tell me. Still, I have a feeling the scars on his body and the tattoos he wears have some sort of link.
“No.” He says simply.
Letting that be, I begin to draw, and with a wicked grin Jamie’s eyes meet mine. I love his eyes—sleepy, filled with warmth when they look at me. He has a freckle under his eyebrow and another one just under his left eye.
“What are you drawing on me, little fox?”
“Can’t spoil the surprise. Eyes up here.” I begin to draw, knowing full well Jamie’s going to fucking kill me. “Why are the ones on this arm little doodles—”
“Doodles?” He laughs. “Maddox would be roll—” He snaps his mouth shut.
“You don’t have to tell me, it’s okay.”
“First, they aren’t doodles. It’s flash art. My friend did them while he was an apprentice. I basically let him practice on me. That’s why they’re kind of random and sticker-like. Whatever he felt like he wanted to try, he did. When he got his first job he did the snake on my arm.”
“And the dragon on your thigh?”
Jamie nods. “He’s done all my tattoos.” I want to ask what happened. Maybe they had a falling out. “It better be something cool.”
“It’s going to be my asshole.” I grin wickedly.
“A work of art for sure.” He laughs softly.
“Is the heating pad helping?”
“Yes. Thank you.” Jamie had come in here to ask for help, and it feels a little like a win. “It’s a dick, isn’t it?” My eyes collide with his. Soft and dreamy. A look I’ve been getting more and more.
It means nothing. I mean nothing.
“What? You wouldn’t want a cute little penis on your chest?”
“I already have one sitting in my lap.”
My jaw drops, and I refuse to give in to the giggle that wants to escape. “Excuse me.” A genuine grin breaks out across his face. His dark eyes are bruised purple underneath. “Wasn’t so little when you were choking on it.”
“I wasn’t choking.”
“Um, you gagged.”
“A courtesy cough.”
Goddammit, I’ve taught him too well. I have no one else to blame. Biting the inside of my cheek hard so I don’t smile, I go back to my drawing. “You’re a dickhead, just so you’re aware.” A sleepy chuckle leaves his lips. “Did you take the strong ones?” I can tell by his demeanor. Jamie nods slowly. “Sleepy?”
“I fell asleep after you did. I should be more careful. The angle was weird.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Worth it.” I draw quietly, trying so hard not to laugh at my creation. “I’m done. Let me see your phone.” Taking a picture, I hand it to him with a proud grin.
“Are you serious?” Jamie shakes his head, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Your very own rainbow-glitter cock.” The tiny cartoon penis sits happily on his chest. It’s short and fat with a golden shaft and rainbow head. To top it off I, gave him a little smiley face. It’s ridiculous. “Yours is better, though.”
“I love it.” Jamie’s eyes grow heavier on me but I’m not ready to be done with this. Not with his warm body under mine.
I cup his chin, not able to stop myself inspecting his gorgeous face like I need to commit it to memory. Brushing a thumb over his sharp cheekbones, I smile, inspecting the eyebrow with its silver bar. Another freckle on the side of his nose. His red lips that kissed the common sense right out of me. I love the way his eyes change from a deep brown to nearly onyx depending on how spicy his mood is. “I want to kiss you so bad.”
Jamie licks his lips in answer, leaning in. His hands send shivers up my thighs as he tugs me gently forward. My brain shuts down. Oh my god. These soft fucking lips. Jamie kisses with his whole body. Unable to resist, I slip my tongue along the seam of his lips, moaning as Jamie let’s me in.
I come alive, feeling the kiss everywhere—in my fingers, my toes, at the base of my spine, in my balls. The kiss undoes and remakes me. This. This right here. This is what all my books have been talking about. While the kiss is amazing, Jamie’s soft grip starts to tighten, his movements growing more frantic. “Calm down.” I laugh against his lips. “You need to behave. I just wanted to kiss you.”
“Then fucking kiss me,” he growls, grabbing my ass in his hands.
“Tell your cock to behave.”
“It’s the heating pad.” He sucks a kiss into my neck. “It feels so fucking good.”
“Sure. The heating pad. Not the hot piece of ass you’re currently fondling.”
“You know, you’re kind of full of yourself.” I grin, yanking his jaw back to me as he dives into my throat. “Shut up and kiss me.”
Oh, this man. I lean in to kiss him, bypassing that filthy mouth to whisper in his ear. “Then fucking make me.”
His cock jerks. Instead of kissing his mouth, I kiss the column of his throat then the dip of his collarbone. Impatient, Jamie laces his fingers around my neck. With his other hand he takes his forefinger and thumb, gripping my chin. “Kiss me.” Leaving no room for debate, his lips crash over mine. I moan. Slow and sweet. I lose track of time. It’s brutal, caressing every inch of my skin. It takes everything not to grind against him.
Hiding my arousal works for five seconds exactly as Jamie’s palm slips into my pants, stroking my cock. I whimper, breaking away from his lips.
While this is amazing—feels amazing—I have to stop it. The thought of Jamie doing something with anyone else makes my skin crawl. I have no right to this possessive feeling, but I can’t let it go. “Wait... wait.” I pull away, trying so hard not to give in to the wild look in his eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
Nerves chew at my stomach but I have to know. “I want to ask you something, but I’m afraid.” Of his reaction, and his answer.
“Okay . . .”
“When you hurt yourself a couple of weeks ago. Were you—” I hate this. “We’re you with someone?”
Jamie cocks his head, his eyes narrowing on me. “What?”
“How you got hurt. Sometimes you say you overdo it. How did you hurt yourself? You told me that sometimes when you hook up, you do too much or... I mean, fuck... I just...”
Jamie cups my face, holding me steady in his hands. “Breathe.” He watches me as I give in, taking a breath. Then another. “Listen to me, right now.” I wait, my face still in his hands. “I am not seeing anyone else, and if I was I would definitely tell you.”
“It’s not my business.”
“If I’m messing around with you, it’s your health; it is your business. I’m not seeing anyone else, though. I promise.” Jamie swallows, and the look in his eyes unnerves me but I can’t look away.
“Then how did you hurt yourself?”
Jamie sighs, letting me go. “I wanted it to be a surprise. It’s not finished yet.” He taps my thighs and I take the hint, getting off his lap. “Come on.” I take his hand as he holds it out behind him and leads me to the attic. Climbing the stairs, I patiently wait as he struggles a bit. “It’s almost done but I tried moving it and twisted something. I was up here when Xavi came over. I couldn’t move and he helped me down.”
He moves aside and I can’t believe what I’m seeing. On a drop cloth is a black bookshelf. Alone, it’s nice. It’s a great size and looks well made. That’s not what makes it impressive, though.
The entire black shelf is painted to look like a galaxy. Blues and teals, pinks and purples, with a smattering of white stars. “Holy shit.”
“I know you’ve been looking for one. I called down to the thrift store on Monticello and checked. I’ve been slowly painting it for a while now.” I can’t believe this. I want to reach out and touch it, but I’m afraid to ruin it. “I just need to finish the bottom.”
“How did you hurt yourself?”
Jamie rubs the back of his neck. “I had to get it onto the drop cloth. It’s pretty heavy—”
“Jamie!”
“I know! I know, okay. I just wanted to get it done for you and didn’t want you to know.” I can’t believe this. This has to be the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. “I can’t believe you thought I was messing around with someone.” The hurt in his voice makes me feel like shit.
“I just thought... I mean, you can but—”
“Do you know that until you, I hadn’t slept with anyone in nearly five years? I mean, I tried during that time. Apps and whatever. But I just... it just didn’t happen. It’s been years since I’ve even had the desire to try, and then my body. I just... gave up.”
“I didn’t mean to accuse you. I just thought, maybe—” Jamie laces his fingers around my wrist, spinning me to face him.
“I’m not seeing anyone, nor do I plan to, okay? I mean that.”
“I’m sorry.” I swallow, nodding and taking another look at the shelf. “How much work is left?”
“Not a lot. I’m nearly done. Maybe another week, and Hunter said he’ll bring it down when it’s finished.”
One week. “It’s so beautiful. Thank you so much.” I hug him. Tight. Too tight, with the grunt he let’s out. “Sorry.” Jamie just hugs me back, though—tighter. “This is amazing.” I feel like the floor is going to give way, but Jamie holds me steady as I feel like crumbling. What I need to do is be honest with him, and myself. If Jamie can’t give me something permanent I need to let go.
Even if he doesn’t want me at the end of this.