18. Arlo
I snag Hailey’s arm as she tries to sneak away from the bed. The sun hasn’t even risen, but it’s a weekday. My siren is an early riser unless the day of the week begins with an S.
A large presence still slumbers in the center of the bed. My lips turn up at his proximity. When I finally fell asleep, he’d been about to fall off the other side and take Hailey with him.
“My big, beautiful dragon.” She presses her thighs into the side of the bed and nuzzles my neck, whispering into my ear, “How do you feel about muffins and veggie omelets?”
“I feel better about you in bed,” I whisper.
“Hmm.” She kisses my cheek. “I could be convinced to come back to bed after food.”
A groan rumbles through my chest. “I’m a terrible partner. I didn’t feed you dinner for the second day in a row.”
“Orgasms are better, most of the time.” She chuckles and rubs her lips against mine even as she pulls away.
“Let me cook for you,” I say, snagging her hand once more.
After all, Hotaru will be happier waking beside her.
“You always cook for me.” She kisses my hand, then releases me. “Let me cook for my guys.”
My heart executes a standing triple back tuck inside my chest. My ribs clap like the supportive spectators they are. “Say it again,” I practically snarl.
Her lashes bat like the innocent woman she isn’t. “I want to cook for you?”
I swat her ass. “You know what I want.”
“I do. And I’m going to make sure you get it.” She shoos me toward Hota. “Now snuggle him. The man used me as his own personal body pillow all night. It’s your turn.”
“Are you complaining?”
“Not at all. I just didn’t take him for a snuggler,” she says as she saunters her round ass toward the bathroom and disappears behind the large door.
I look at Hota. I wouldn’t have guessed him for a snuggler either, but he had clung to Hailey as though his life depended on it. I’d thought it’d been out of spite. But maybe…it’s something more.
People can be touch starved. I’ve heard about it. Hell, I’ve even read research on it because of my issues.
Never in a million years would I have guessed Hotaru was touch starved, but he’s never had a significant other. His only trysts are short-lived Crave experiences with plenty of touch but nothing more than physical release.
No emotion. No intimacy. No affection.
My flipping heart deflates, zipping about my chest.
I scoot close, aligning my large body with Hota’s. Heat rolls off him in waves. I soak it in even though the room isn’t freezing. I watch the slow rise and fall of his bare chest. The covers cling to his hip. His hair and arm block much of his face. The sliver of lidded eye and cheek I see is enough to fuel anyone’s fantasies for weeks on end.
The bathroom door whispers open. Hailey sneaks out, wearing a sweatshirt. Its sleeves are rolled up several times to reveal her hands. The length makes her inked legs look indecently delicious.
I track her movements, wanting to share her for breakfast.
She coyly ignores my eyes, save for the kiss she blows me before slipping out of the room and closing the door behind her.
When she packed breakfast items into our bags yesterday to come here, I’d told her she was overestimating the situation. Maybe I’m underestimating it. Maybe Hota is too.
I slip my arm under his head, another around his back, and pull him to my chest. My leg coils over his. The hair on his legs brushes mine, causing a shiver to roll through me. He feels so different in my arms than Hailey. No better. No worse. Just as perfect. But different.
Holding Hailey is like holding possibilities in my arms. With her, the possibilities are endless, joyous and hopeful.
Holding Hotaru is like holding a wild animal. An animal with the ability to maim me. An animal who’s only ever protected me. An animal I want to see all those endless possibilities with me.
After I’ve hurt him so very badly.
I move his arm to my waist to see his face. I spent night after night mapping these contours with my eyes at Willoughby Ridge. They’re sharper now. Thicker and more defined.
My fingers lift to his brow. I study every dip and ridge, angle, and contour from the pride of his nose to the swell of his lips, feeding my suddenly insatiable need to touch him.
As the sun slowly rises, his eyes flutter.
When they fully open, my thumb skims his cheekbone. The dark pools of his gaze pull me in, flip me all around in a desperate study, then shut me out.
His jaw jerks out of my hold, and he shoves against my chest, creating space between us. A chasm really.
“Hota?” I plead for him, reaching out.
His jaw flexes, and his head shakes. His eyes, though, they stay on me. It’s not much, but it’s enough.
“I’m ready to give you what you need—what I need—to move forward.” I sit up, and he does too. We’re squared off like enemies, and I can’t stand it. I have to do this, own this moment before it’s gone. “Top me. Today. Tomorrow. Every day. I want you to be mine in every way. If that’s what it takes, I’ll give it.”
Even as I say the words, I hope I can follow through with them. Doubt clouds my mind, blurring hope. I want him to top me. I just don’t know if my mind and body will allow it yet.
He tears the sheets from his body and shoots from the bed. His chest heaves as though he can’t get a full breath despite the hefty lung function. Without a word, he heads for the bathroom and slams the door so hard, it shakes the walls and rings in my ears.
My fucking chest caves in on itself. Air refuses to move in or out of my lungs. It’s like he can sense my fear.
I wonder if this is how Hota felt having to watch me leave the room and walk into my uncle’s clutches.
Helpless. Dying inside.
Only, I’m not helpless. I’m not dying.
I’m just starting to live the life I want. The life I deserve. The life Hailey and Hotaru deserve too.
I shuck the covers from my legs, stand, and head for the bathroom door.
When I get halfway there, the bedroom door opens, and Hailey stumbles inside. Her eyes are wide and searching. She finds me in a split second and then sees the closed bathroom door. Then she alights on my trajectory.
Her hand comes up slowly, pleading for me to stop.
I do, reluctantly.
She rushes to me, tossing a dish towel onto the foot of the bed as she nears. Her forehead meets my chest, and her arms wrap around my middle. She doesn’t ask what happened, just gives me her support.
“I fucked up.” I pull her up and hug her to me.
Her head shakes against my neck.
“I told him I wanted him to top me, that I was ready.” I can barely scrape out the last few words. Tears clog my throat.
“Expressing yourself isn’t fucking up. No matter the outcome.” She brushes a hand down the back of my head and down my nape. “Hota’s ingested a lot in the last two days. He probably just needs time to digest it. To formulate thoughts and feelings about it.” She draws a deep breath and hugs me close. “Give him time. More than a few hours.”
“I’ll give him anything he needs.”
“I know you will.” Her lips smack my cheek.
Hailey slides out of my arms. She scrambles to the bathroom door and knocks. “Breakfast in ten.” Then she runs for the door. “If I haven’t burned it,” she adds over her shoulder.
After she rushes out the bedroom door, I sit on the end of the bed and watch the bathroom door like a stalker. Probably not what she meant by giving him time.
A few minutes later, the door opens, and Hota exits. His chin is high, his shoulders are back, and he looks totally collected and covered from the waist down in a new pair of sweats.
“Here.” He tosses something wadded in his hand. “I can’t have your sausage dangling by my breakfast sausage.”
I catch the sweats and stifle a grin. “Afraid you won’t know which to eat?”
His gaze slices to me. It’s fiery enough to singe my brows.
“Sorry.” I slide my legs into the pants, stand, and pull them up. “We’re not having sausage anyway.” I smirk.
He heads for the door. “You had plenty last night,” he quips without looking back.
Once more, I’m following him like a puppy. I’ll do it forever if need be. Hell, get me a collar.
I’d wear it for him.
He’s subbed for me for years when he’s not a sub at all. We both like control. We both need it to feel comfortable. And he’s forgone it for me for years. For me.
We’re in the long hallway of doors when I quip, “Best sausage I ever had.”
Hota groans and stops abruptly. He turns and pounces on me in the same motion. I’m completely caught off guard. His body crowds mine. The clamp on his hand is around my throat, capturing a small gasp.
My back hits the wall with a thud. It’s not enough to hurt or even knock the air from my lungs. It is, however, enough to steal my attention.
With anyone else, I would feel fear and react with extreme violence. But this isn’t anyone. It’s Hota. I trust him implicitly. And I have a ton to prove to him.
I keep my body loose and pliant for him.
“What if I turn you around and fuck you right here?” he snarls.
Once again, he’s challenging me.
“I suppose I’d make a mess on your wall.” I smile.
Faster than I can calculate, he spins me and shoves my chest against the wall. He snatches a handful of the sweatpants on my ass and drags them down until they pool around my ankles.
My cock is fully erect and ready to do as I said.
“Don’t fucking move,” he rumbles into my ear.
His hand moves off my nape, and he grabs a cheek in each hand and spreads me wide. The moan that leaves me is indecent. He shakes them in his hands, taunting me. Teasing.
I poke my ass back, giving him more.
“God-fucking-dammit,” he bellows. “You’d let me take you like this. No lube. No prep.”
It’s not a question so much as an awed statement.
“Yes, I would.” I nod, my cheek smooshed against the wall. “I’d let you have me any way, anytime, anywhere.”
It’s true. I know he doesn’t believe me, and it sucks. All I can do is prove myself to him over and over until he trusts me.
Until I trust myself.
“Fuck.” He releases my ass, tugs the pants up my legs, and tries to get them over my ass. My full cock is in the way. He curses in Japanese, tips my cock up, and finishes the job of covering me.
He presses his forehead against my nape and draws a deep breath. “We need to talk. I know that.”
“I shouldn’t have thrown all this on you so fast.” Still facing the wall, I grab his hand and thread his fingers through mine.
“So fast.” He laughs. There’s little humor in it. “I’ve been waiting for you for decades, asshole.”
“I’m sorry, Hota. Sorry for so much.”
“It’s about time you quit being sorry.” He turns me back around and kisses my forehead.
“We can talk whenever you’re ready. No rush.” I pull him toward his kitchen, where we find Hailey with her hair in a wild knot and smoke billowing from the oven.