Chapter Thirteen
Kason
“Tell me something about you?” I ask, wanting to get to know as much about him as possible.
“It doesn’t have to be something big or deep,” I add, treading lightly.
I’m still slightly on edge from his…panic?
Anxiety? Not sure what to call it, but the situation from earlier is still on my mind, and I don’t want to do anything to rush him.
On the other hand, I want to keep the lines of communication open, want Anthony to know he can trust me and that I trust him.
It’s partly why I shared my story about Craig with him.
“Hmm. What do you want to know? I enjoy long walks on the beach, mountain brunches with pretty men…”
“More than one pretty man, or do I know this guy?” I tease.
Anthony shrugs playfully. “You might have heard of him. He’s a hockey player. Goalie, to be exact.”
“Tell me more. How pretty is this guy?” I put my feet up on the chair beside me, arms crossed and looking at Anthony.
“So fucking hot,” he replies. “The first time I met him, I nearly swallowed my tongue. Definitely a ten.” Anthony moves so he’s sitting in the same position as me, feet up on another chair.
“Damn. A ten, huh? I can guarantee he thinks the same about you.”
“Really now…tell me more.”
“You’re avoiding my question, though.”
“Damn it. You’re not supposed to call me out on my shit.”
“But it’s so much fun,” I joke, then reach my foot over and nudge his. “What’s your favorite color?”
“Rapid-fire? I can handle this. Teal. You?”
“Blue. Morning or night?”
“Definitely night.”
“I love early mornings.”
“I knew you were weird.” Anthony smiles. “Favorite food?”
“Mexican and Japanese.”
He gives a sexy moan. “Oh my God. Same.”
We toss a few more easy questions back and forth, and I file his answers away for the future.
Who knows when I might need the information.
Something about Anthony makes me want to spoil him, praise him and show him what it’s like to be treated the way he deserves.
I have a feeling no one in his life has ever done that.
Actually, Hayes and Donovan do now, but I want to be one of those people for him as well.
When Anthony goes to speak next, I expect him to ask another question, but instead, he says, “My mom left me when I was young and never came back.”
My spine stiffens, my gaze never leaving his as I nod for him to continue.
Whatever he wants to share with me, I want to hear.
I recognize this moment for what it is—Anthony giving me a piece of himself, trying to open up and let me in to see the real parts of him, not just the confident, happy-go-lucky guy he shows most of the world.
“I’m sorry,” I say, when he doesn’t continue. “That had to be tough.”
“I was used to her partying, being gone for days at a time, so at first, I didn’t think anything of it.
But one day became two, then three, then a week.
I stopped going to school, and that’s what eventually got the cops called to our apartment.
I’d been alone for three weeks.” He looks down, tracing the designs on the table.
“She went shopping before she left—big shopping. The kind of shopping we never had the money to do. She knew she was going to leave. I guess I should be grateful she made sure I had enough to eat, but all I can think is that she knew she was going to leave, yet she did it anyway.”
His words, the sadness in his tone, take a sledgehammer to my heart, shattering it into a million pieces. I can’t imagine what that was like for him, how it feels to carry that pain around. The load has to be heavy, and I wonder if Anthony has ever had anyone to help him bear it.
I decide right there and then to be that person for him, even if things don’t work out between us.
“Come here,” I say. When he looks up at me, I lean forward and take his hand across the table.
“Come here, little dancer.” I’m surprised it doesn’t take more prodding for Anthony to set his feet on the ground, get up, and walk over.
I pull him to my lap, wrap my arms around him from behind and kiss his back through his shirt.
“I’m so sorry you had to live through that.
Maybe in her mind, she thought what she was doing was best for you.
But that doesn’t make it easier to have lived through. ”
“No. It doesn’t. I went to live with my uncle after that. He’s not a bad person, he just…didn’t want me, and neither did his wife. I was an afterthought, the boy they got stuck with because the sister he’d abandoned when she needed him, never figured out how to get her life together.”
What is wrong with people? I will never understand them.
I kiss his shoulder, tighten my hold on him.
I know what he told me about that period in his life—him being shy, quiet, loving dance and meeting Aliyah, then ending up in California.
I don’t know the details, though. “You deserved better.” He doesn’t respond, so I say it again.
“You deserved better. None of that is your fault. It’s not because you are lacking in any way.
It’s because you were dealt a shitty hand, and I’m sorry for that. ”
Anthony leans back into me, giving me some of his weight.
“Thank you. Let me finish, though. I want to get it all out. My mom’s family, they came from money.
Lots of it. My mom couldn’t keep it together, though, and my grandparents left everything to my uncle—or I guess my mom’s part of the money was under his control.
He could give it to her if she got her life together, which she never did.
When I turned eighteen, they saw that as a way to get rid of me.
They gave me money to disappear and start a life, and I did.
I came to LA, got an apartment, danced, worked, never let anyone know what was in my bank account, and eventually bought Lush. ”
It takes my brain a second to catch up before it all clicks into place. “The club is yours?”
He chuckles. “Surprise.”
“Holy shit, Ant. Why do you keep that to yourself? You’ve created something incredible.”
“Because I don’t trust people. Because I’m afraid of being used. Because I’m scared of somehow fucking it all up and losing it, and my brain tells me that would be easier to handle if no one knows. I’m sure it doesn’t make sense anywhere except here.” He taps his temple.
He stands up but doesn’t go far, just hops up onto the table, facing me.
“I just wanted to tell you all my shit so you know what you’re getting into being my boyfriend, and maybe so you’d get why I’m the way I am. I know I don’t make it easy, especially after Malcolm, but…I don’t want to screw this up.”
Jesus, this man. He’s already dug his way so far under my skin, already found places inside me I didn’t know existed. He says he doesn’t want to screw this up, but the truth is, I don’t either. I really like Anthony.
I stand up, nestling myself between his legs. He immediately wraps them around me, and I sink into the touch. “Thank you for trusting me with that.”
“Eh, well, it wasn’t fun, and I did it mostly for selfish reasons.”
I’ve noticed he does that a lot, tries to make the things he does seem less important than they are.
“No,” I reply. “You didn’t. And you’re not going to screw this up.
We’ll work through it all together…because I like you, Anthony.
I like you, and I want you. If your reason is selfish, mine is too.
But I think you mostly told me because you trust me, and there’s nothing selfish about that.
It’s…sweet.” I kiss the corner of his mouth. “You’re sweet.” The other side.
Anthony groans, and I push him backward so he’s lying on the table, shoving his shirt up and licking a strip from his navel up his chest. “Totally a ten.”
Anthony chuckles.
“But even more than that…I have the biggest fucking crush on you.” I lash my tongue over one of his nipples, Anthony arching up toward me.
“You’re my boyfriend, and my boyfriend deserves to be spoiled for how well he opened up to me, for everything he shared with me, and for trusting me.
” I nibble my way to the other side, then tug his nipple with my teeth.
“Fuck, Kason. I want it,” he says, voice gritty, hand knotted in my hair.
“Want what? Be a good boy and tell me what you want.”
“You…your dick. Want you to fuck me.”
“Who do you want to fuck you?” I ask.
I look up and see him grin. “Well played. My boyfriend. I want my boyfriend to fuck me.”
“God, we’re good at this already.” I thrust against him.
“You’re good at this. Best boyfriend I’ve ever had.
” I lick his salty skin, loving to taste him.
I can’t wait to explore every part of him, touch him everywhere in every way and learn what Anthony likes.
I want to bring him nothing but pleasure.
Show him with my touch, my body, and my words and actions how fucking incredible he is.
“Why don’t you go upstairs. My bedroom is right above the living room.
If there’s anything you need, it will be in the en suite.
I’ll clean up from breakfast, and I’ll meet you up there in a few minutes. How does that sound?”
“Like a few minutes too long.” He grins and seals his mouth to mine.
I push my tongue past his lips, kiss him, rut against him until Anthony is panting beneath me.
When he pulls back, he looks serious when he says, “I love sex. I want it so fucking badly with you, but…you know that’s not the only reason I’m here, right? ”
I have a feeling Anthony has been made to feel bad about his enjoyment of intimacy.
While I want him to know I’m here for more than his body, I don’t ever want him to think there’s anything wrong with craving sex.
“I know. I want it badly with you too. It’s not why either of us is here, but we’ll have a whole lot of fun doing it. ”
“Fuck yes. I can’t wait.”
I move off him, then pull him up.
“Meet you upstairs,” he says, but I grab his hand before he can walk away.
“It’s a few minutes too long for me too,” I admit.
The smile he gives me is blinding, and it’s a reminder to keep saying these things to him, keep being honest about how much I want him.
“We are so sappy,” he says, and I cock a brow.
“Are you complaining?”
“Fuck no.” He winks and goes inside.
I stand there watching him until he’s out of sight.