Chapter 18 #2
I say nothing as he brings me inside, the floors creaking ominously, though I have no doubt they’ll hold us. There’s a bunch of blankets and pillows on the couch, and I realize he’s put together a little makeshift leg rest for me.
He arranges my knees and ankles so there’s not a lot of pressure on the burns, and I feel an unnamed, unfamiliar emotion in my chest. I want to grab him by the waistband of his jeans and yank him into my lap so I can kiss the shit out of him.
I want to get fucked silly and brainless, then curl up in his arms and ask him ridiculous, inane questions like what his favorite ice cream flavor is, and if it changes when it’s summer or winter. Or if he puts his socks on left then right, or right then left.
Or if he ever makes silly shapes with his hair when it’s covered in shampoo bubbles, and if he puts cream then sugar or sugar then cream when he makes his morning coffee.
“You okay?” He perches on the coffee table and brushes a few locks of hair out of my eyes.
In the exact same moment, Easton comes in, but even as I pull back from North’s touch, I can tell my brother isn’t paying attention.
“I think I need some water,” I say.
North is on his feet, pulling away from me, the physical distance between us growing as he heads for the kitchen. I hate the feeling of it, but maybe it’s something I should get used to.
This could be something between us—something good. Definitely intense. Something I won’t ever forget.
But will it be a forever sort of thing?
I don’t have a lot of faith in myself, even if I trust North to know what he wants. The reality is, he doesn’t know me as well as he should. He knows the bits and pieces of me I’ve been accidentally vulnerable enough to show him, but nothing else.
He doesn’t know all those dry, dull pieces that make up the rest of who I am.
“I gotta take off.” Easton’s voice cuts into my thought spiral. He walks over and drops down to a knee beside my legs and immediately begins checking my dressings.
“They’re fine,” I remind him. My legs look a lot less angry today. The blisters are awful, but I know for a fact that my brother has seen much worse.
He frowns as he looks up at me. “If you need anything—”
“I know.”
His eyes close in a slow blink. “I’m serious, Leo. None of this martyr, ‘I can handle the pain, I don’t want to bother you’ bullshit.”
I know I deserve this. “I’ll call. I promise.”
He relaxes a little, though I can tell from his face that he doesn’t believe me. He used to look at me like that when we were younger. The disapproving older brother who was more like a parent because ours never gave a shit.
Leaning over, he pulls me into a very hard, slightly painful hug before letting go. “If you need to get out of here,” he murmurs quietly so North can’t overhear from the kitchen, “call me. I don’t care if I’m on the fucking moon.”
“Easton.” I pull back and roll my eyes.
“I mean it.”
Luckily, North interrupts the moment, appearing with a very tall glass of water. There’s no ice, which I hate, but there’s condensation on the sides, which means it’s cold. He doesn’t offer it to me right away. Instead, he takes my brother’s hand and pulls him up and into a hug.
“You have a key. Come by whenever.”
I wish he hadn’t said that. I want to feel free to touch and kiss North whenever I want. But maybe that’s not what he wants. My stomach sinks into my aching feet with the realization that I might be into this more than he is.
“Thanks, bud. See you later.” Easton hugs him for another moment, then leans down and kisses my forehead before strolling out the door.
Suddenly, the silence around us feels heavy.
“Water,” North says.
I take a long sip, and it feels very soothing against my dry throat. “How long is it going to feel like I’ve been taking bong rips all night?”
He bursts into laughter and flops down in the small space beside my feet. “It’s wild you know what bong rips feel like.”
My eyes narrow. “I experimented in college. It wasn’t for me.”
His eyes crinkle in the corners with his grin.
“Well, I have no idea how long the dry throat thing lasts. I’ve only had to deal with smoke inhalation once, thanks to a bad mask seal, and it was only for a second.
” His head tilts to the side, and his fingers fidget on the top of his thigh. “So. How are you?”
Small talk? Is he serious? I can’t find the words, so I offer him a silent shrug.
His brow dips. “Did I say something wrong?”
I take a breath, then very slowly shake my head. “No. This is just…”
“Yeah. I get it.” He folds his hands and puts them in his lap, then sighs loudly and drops them to the side. Then he folds them again. “Fuck.” The word is whisper quiet, which means I probably wasn’t supposed to hear it.
The tension in the room rises, and it’s awkward as fuck. How did we go from kissing each other’s faces off and him touching my dick to this? And why does it somehow feel like it was all my fault?
“Do you want me to go?” I can’t help but ask. If he says yes, it’ll gut me, but I’m not going to inflict myself on him if he doesn’t want me here. “Teddy offered me a place to stay, and—”
“No! Fuck.” There’s an expression on his face I can’t quite read. It’s almost devastated, but…that’s not quite right. I wish I knew him better. I wish I had paid closer attention to him. “Leo…I’m scared.”
“Of me?” My stomach twists.
He shakes his head, then stops and shrugs. “Not of you, but…of this. Of how much I want you, and that makes me feel like a giant asshole because you’re in pain, and—”
Relief hits me like a tidal wave, and before I can think straight, words are tumbling past my lips. “Kiss me.”
His entire body freezes, and then he swallows thickly. “Kiss you?”
Fuck it. I didn’t really mean to say that, but I’m not taking it back now. Not when I want that more than anything. “Yes. I have been desperate to kiss you again without the fear of my brother walking in on us or a nurse ratting us out.” I hold my breath, waiting for him to say or do anything.
After a short forever, I watch his pretty pink tongue slide from right to left as he wets his lips. Then he stands up, turns, and immediately drops to his knees in front of me. Fuck, I would give anything to pull him into my lap, but I know it would hurt like hell.
It doesn’t matter though. He slides a palm up my chest, then curls his hand around my jaw and leans in. Before his lips meet mine, he pauses, and it takes me a second to realize why.
But then I remember he hasn’t done this much. He’s unsure of himself, and as much as I can tell he wants to take control, he doesn’t know how.
So for now, until he’s ready, I can do it. I move my hand to his jaw, then push my fingers into his hair, and he groans, leaning into my touch.
It’s like he’s starved for me.
His moans turn needy as his head tips closer to mine, and I gently draw him close until our lips are almost touching.
“Yes?” I whisper.
His answer comes in a breathy rush. “Yes.”
Kissing him feels like coming home. It’s grounding and settling in a way it’s never been for me before.
My toes curl in spite of the pain and the burns, and I tug on his hair, pulling him closer—closer, until his chest lands against mine. His hands push into the cushions on either side of me, and he rips himself back, eyes a little wild, pupils huge.
“Leo.” He sounds strange, like he’s worried.
“Are you okay?”
His teeth dig into his lower lip, and he shakes his head, then swallows heavily. “Yeah, but…I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t,” I say quickly, though that’s probably going to be a lie. I can barely twitch without pain, but that doesn’t matter when this feels so good. I want him so badly I ache. “Please kiss me again.”
He looks uncertain, and I hate that. I hate that he’s unsure of himself. I hate that he doesn’t realize how fucking good he is, even if he’s unpracticed. “Can we…should we…” He trails off for a second, then says, “Maybe the bed would be better?”
I hate the idea of moving again, but I love the idea of having space for us both. “Can you help me there?”
“Anything you need,” he murmurs, and something tells me he means it.