44. Phoenix #2
Eight weeks is all that separates us from the one-year anniversary of when he walked back into my life after the most brutal absence known to man.
It’s a damn good thing I have a plan to make sure he never leaves me like that again.
As soon as my jeans are past my ass, he’s swallowing my cock. The abrupt sensation has me jerking my hips forward involuntarily and I hear him gag.
“Shit. Sorry, baby.”
I’m delirious with lust and love for the man on his knees.
His mouth feels like heaven and I want more, but I’m already dangerously close to coming, yet, I can’t pull away.
Bracing my forehead on my forearms—which are now planted against the driver’s side window—I look down, watching Walker make love to my dick with those irresistible lips.
Needing to touch him, I push off the window and thread my fingers through his hair, his cowboy hat having been tossed on the ground next to him.
“Fuck, DeVille. That mouth ,” I groan.
He hums his pleasure over making me lose my goddamn mind, and I almost go the fuck off. Grabbing his chin, I pull out of his mouth and force his gaze up to me. “Get inside.” I motion my thumb toward our home for the next five months.
I need him inside this camper so I can get inside his ass.
“Yessir,” he says, really playing up his Texas accent as he swipes his hat off the ground.
Following him inside, I push him to the very back until he falls on the bed. The relief I feel knowing no one is going to come looking for us—and even if they do, us fucking each other is no longer newsworthy—is so great, it makes me a little punch drunk.
Walker’s shirt gives easily when I pull the sides in opposite directions. Moving on to his boots, I get them off in record time and slide his jeans and boxers down his legs before shedding my own clothes.
Once we’re naked, I take a second to stop and actually think about what I’m doing, and my palms start to sweat.
I know it’s what I want so I’m not nervous for that reason, I’m just…
what if it’s not what he wants? Of course, that’s a possibility with any proposal, but I have to know.
The need to make Walker mine for the rest of our lives is a palpable thing living in my chest, and it won’t leave me alone until he says yes.
Our camper isn’t top of the line because Walker wouldn’t let me go crazy, but it’s nicer than a lot of houses. Our bedroom looks similar to our room at home, except it has a fireplace. There are also nightstands on either side of the bed.
“Walker, grab the lube, will you?” I ask.
He twists to reach for the nightstand, then looks back over his shoulder at me, pausing mid-movement.
“Did you just call me Walker?”
Confusion paints my features. “Um, yeah? That’s your name.”
“You only call me Walker in the arena. In bed, you call me baby, cowboy, or Quick Shooter—and occasionally , DeVille, when you’re on a power trip.” He’s eyeing me like he knows something’s up.
“Just get the damn bottle before I lose a nut, will you?”
His eyes narrow and I blow out a breath, knowing the time has arrived.
Reaching into the drawer, I see the exact moment his fingers graze the paper taped to the bottle. Pulling them both out, his chest heaves as he sees his own handwriting on the note in his fist.
I climb up his body, straddling his thighs, almost getting distracted when his teeth sink into that perfect, plush, bottom lip of his. But then his eyes find mine.
“You kept this?” His voice is a whisper as he carefully removes the fragment of the magazine page he wrote his confession on almost nine years ago now.
I nod. “Of course, I kept it. I needed something to remind me that night actually happened since you wouldn’t let me keep you .
When I woke up in the hospital and hadn’t heard from you, I knew it was really over, but if all I could keep from that night were your handwritten words, so be it. I’d planned to keep them forever.”
Walker licks his lips as pain flashes across his features and he avoids my gaze.
“I didn’t want to walk away from you, you know. I was trying to protect you…not hurt you.”
“There’s only one way you can hurt me now and ironically, it’s by doing the same thing you did back then. But this time, I’m really hoping you’ll stick around.” I nod toward the paper. “Flip it over.”
Walker’s eyes close, and he doesn’t even try to stop the tears flowing down his cheeks. Laying the bottle down on the bed, he grabs me and pulls me to him, his lips, and tongue, and hands everywhere.
I must admit, the most brilliant part of my plan was getting us naked first.
When he finally pulls back to look at me, his eyes convey far more than a yes.
“The night you approached me, I was knocking on death’s door, thinking I was too far gone.
Already buried six-feet under my guilt and shame.
But you poured yourself into me that night,” a small smile makes his lips quirk, “figuratively and literally. You saved my life, Phoenix. I could have burned in the fires of self-loathing only to end up in the pits of hell, but instead, I rose from the ashes thanks to you.”
Tracing the tattoo of the phoenix on his side, I nervously ask, “So…is that a yes?”
His smile is devastating.
“Yeah, Phoe. It’s a yes.”
And just like that, I’m rising right along with him.
Walker DeVille.
My competition.
My lover.
My rival.
My future.