Chapter 21 #2
“Wow,” I whisper. I know my sarcasm is thick. “I sound amazing.”
“No. Listen.” Closing his eyes, he pulls us together as close as he can.
There’s no space between us at all anymore.
My forehead rests against his, and I feel the soft, puffing exhale of each breath across my cheeks.
“You gave me someone to fight. And then, when I actually pulled my head out of my ass, I realized you were actually giving me something to fight for.”
I bite my lip, then lean back and pull his hands into mine. His words are so fucking overwhelming, I don’t know what to do with myself except this. Our fingers make fists together, and I hold them between our beating hearts. “Why aren’t you a best-selling romance author yet?”
“Oh my god,” he groans, then bursts into laughter. “You can’t be serious.”
My lips twitch, but I hold back my smile as I straighten, and I feel like I’m towering over him, but that’s what I want. I want our positions to be flipped. I want him to feel encompassed by me.
Safe with me.
“Leo”—the confession comes in a rush—“I’ve been on edge the last two weeks, waiting for you to finally tell me that you’re done with all of this. That it’s been fun, but I’m not someone you can be serious with.”
His gaze roams my face like he’s searching for someone, and he looks devastated. “You’re not serious.”
I shrug. “I hate that I am, but yeah.”
He snorts. “I thought I’d be too boring for you. I was waiting for you to tell me you didn’t want to do this because I was so dull.”
My brows shoot up high on my forehead. “Are you shitting me? You? Dull?”
With a scoff, he shoves me hard enough I take a single step back. “Yes, me. I’m stale crackers. I’m still pond water. I’m the quiet, humid air right after an intense storm. I—”
I surge in and kiss him. It seems the only way to really shut him up while also telling him with my body how fucking ridiculous he is. He moans into it, hands scrabbling for purchase, twisting into my T-shirt, and he moves with me like we were always meant to be this.
My head starts swimming as I refuse to break the kiss, walking him over to the kitchen chair, and he sits hard, then spreads his legs so I can straddle them.
“That isn’t you,” I tell him, breathless from devouring his mouth. “And I have a feeling it never was you. I’m sorry if anyone ever made you feel that way.”
He groans and rocks against me, mouth searching for mine. I don’t make him wait for it. His tongue slides past my teeth, and I taste every inch of him.
“We are going to be so late,” I say into the kiss just before it breaks.
He shakes his head. “Don’t fucking care. I want you. Please.”
As though I’m going to say no. This is old hat now, of course. I know every inch of his body. I know what makes him tick, what makes him moan, what makes him flinch. I know what makes his toes curl, and I can do that now that it doesn’t hurt him.
Leaning in, I graze a hard bite over his left tendon, and he melts under me. “Fuck, North.”
“Yeah. I know you like that.” He likes being manhandled and treated a little roughly. I could tell from the first moment I touched him when he wanted it to be anyone else but me.
Only now it’s my hands.
My teeth.
My cock.
And his entire body is begging for more.
His breath hitches in his chest as I reach between us to get our dicks out, and when I wrap my fist around us both, I damn near lose it right there.
“Tonight,” I say, and he gasps as I squeeze and stroke us from root to tip. “Tonight,” I repeat, then let go to spit into my palm. It slicks the way—not great, but enough—and I begin to jack us off in earnest. “I want to suck your dick.”
“Oh god, yes. North, yes, please. I need your mouth around me.”
My balls tighten, and heat rushes through me as I picture it—the weight of him on my tongue, the taste of him as he shoots down my throat.
There’s a funny sound coming from somewhere, and I realize after a second that it’s me.
It’s a heavy, panting, whining moan escaping my throat as my arm speeds up.
I can’t help but picture it: the look on his face as I sit between his legs and let him slide in and out of my mouth.
It’s going to be so good.
Oh shit.
Oh shit.
Oh—
“I’m coming,” I gasp seconds before I spill.
My dick kicks hard in my hand, and my arm goes limp, so Leo quickly takes over. He lets my softening cock go as he takes his own, and with hard, sharp pulls, he gets himself off, coming all over my lower stomach.
I can’t help but stare at it—watching his mess mingle with mine, feeling like that’s always how it should be. He and I: messy and chaotic, but in our own way, absolutely perfect.
My breathing starts to even out, and I look up to find him watching my face.
“Do I look weird when I come?” I ask.
He snorts and pulls me down into a kiss. “Everything you do is fucking beautiful.”
“God, you’re going to kill me if you keep talking like that.”
“Only little deaths, I hope.”
I fucking love this.
No, I think it’s more than just this. Leo’s different and kind of weird, and I never thought I would say this, but my best friend’s little brother is absolutely goddamn perfect for me.
And I think the reason I’m this terrified is because I’m absolutely in love with him.
I don’t say much as Leo and Teddy walk through the house. It’s not quite a burned-out shell. There’s a lot that can be saved, though I can’t read the adjustor’s face, so I don’t really know what he’s thinking. He’s standing there with dead eyes and a twitchy, thick mustache under his nose.
I’m not really a fan of his—or anyone from the insurance companies. Their job is to pay out as little as they can, though in this case, he doesn’t have a choice. It was an accident. Leo didn’t do anything wrong. Lighting candles can be dangerous, but it’s not a crime, so…
“Okay, I think I’m good.” Leo’s voice interrupts my thoughts. Although I’m irritated at this mustachioed dick’s presence, Leo soothes me.
Teddy’s walking slightly behind him, making notes on his tablet, and Leo slides up against my side so I can wrap an arm around him. The adjustor watches the whole thing, wrinkling his nose.
“Do you have any questions for me?” the adjustor asks.