Chapter Twenty-One
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
THEY DIDN’T SPEAK as Liam exited the trailer park in a cloud of dust and gravel spray. Tate stared out the window, unseeing as familiar sights whizzed by. His face hurt, and the blood drying on his neck itched, but the rest of him felt numb.
Tonight, the thing he’d spent his entire life terrified of happened, and he didn’t know what the hell to do next. Or how to process it. Randy reacted as expected, with violence and hatred. Shouldn’t he feel something ? Instead, his insides were empty.
Beside him, Liam practically vibrated with rage. He didn’t need to look at the man who’d become the center of his world to know how angry Liam was on Tate’s behalf. The whole car trembled with it.
He listened as Liam inhaled and exhaled with slow, measured breaths over and over. After the fifth round, a soft hand wrapped around Tate’s where it rested on the center console.
Finally, he started to feel. First, the warmth and softness of Liam’s hand, but then a barrage of complicated emotions pummeled him at once. He didn’t turn to look at Liam—couldn’t without cracking under the weight of his emotions. So, he flipped his palm up and curled it around Liam’s, squeezing so hard it surprised him the other man didn’t protest.
Only when Liam pulled his car around the back of the dance studio and parked did he let go. Tate followed his lead, climbing out of the car with lead-laden legs. The air felt thick and sticky like he was moving through honey.
Liam hurried around the car and immediately took his hand again. As soon as they were rejoined, Tate exhaled as though he needed Liam’s touch to continue breathing. Together, they climbed the long staircase to Liam’s small apartment. Each step took ten times more energy than usual. The cotton ball that had replaced his brain allowed Liam to lead him to the door.
A white bakery box with a sticky note sat by the door. Liam bent down and picked it up one-handed. “Sometimes there are benefits to living in a small town,” he muttered, speaking for the first time since they left the trailer park.
Tate couldn’t muster the energy to ask what he meant.
After unlocking the door, Liam guided him inside. He set the box on the table and then faced Tate. “I ordered an apple pie from the bakery down the street for tonight. I was on my way to pick it up when I ran into your mom, so I never got it. Someone from the bakery dropped it off for me. Why don’t you clean off your face and change your shirt? I think I have one of yours in my dresser.” His cheeks pinked. “I might have stolen it when you were here last week. While you do that, I’ll warm the pie, and then we can sit and eat.”
And talk.
He didn’t say it, but they had to talk about the shit show of the past hour.
There were so many things Tate wanted to say right then. He wanted to thank Liam, apologize, and explain that he’d understand if Liam wanted no part of Tate’s life.
Mostly, he wanted to tell Liam he loved him because as he’d watched his brave dancer charge toward Randy with that taser, he’d realized the terrifying and intense emotion welling inside him was love.
But all he was capable of saying was, “Okay.” It was the first word he’d uttered since they started driving, and it sounded raw and rough.
Liam nodded, all business, then gave him a gentle nudge toward the bathroom. “There’s pain medicine under the sink.”
He went, moving through the motions in a robotic, detached manner. The mirror showed a man with a swollen eye, puffy nose, and bruised cheek. Blood had dried in an uncomfortable crust on his chin, neck, and shirt. It wiped off easily with a wet cloth, and within ten minutes, he was clean, medicated, and wearing a fresh shirt, though no less fucked in the head.
When he stepped out of the bathroom, the sight that greeted him had him stopping in his tracks. Two plates with large slices of pie and heaping scoops of ice cream sat waiting on the tiny round table in Liam’s kitchen. The lights were dimmed, and a few candles flickered, casting a cozy glow around the room. Soft music played in the background. Liam smiled at him as he walked two bottles of beer to the table.
Tate’s favorite brand.
He blinked as a rush of emotion tried to find its way out of his eyes. The last time he could remember crying was when he’d been six and broke his arm falling out of a tree. No one was around to take him to the hospital, so he’d had to wait for hours to get help, crying much of the time. Randy called him a crybaby and laughed. He hadn’t cried since. He didn’t know how to let his feelings out in that way anymore.
“Come sit.” Liam slid into a chair at the table, waiting for him. “The pie is warm, and the ice cream’s cold.”
“Thank you,” he said, his throat tight as he strode across the room to take the other seat. The delicious aroma of cinnamon and sugar floated through the air, making his mouth water. “This, um… this is nice.”
No one did things like this for him. Hell, it’d been a few years since anyone even got him a birthday cake.
Liam beamed. “It is, isn’t it?” He scooped some pie and ice cream onto his spoon and held it halfway between them. “Cheers.”
The playful move made Tate’s lips twitch, which hurt more than he’d admit out loud. He followed suit, gathering some pie and tapping his spoon to Liam’s. “Cheers.”
Liam watched him as Tate ate the first bite. The warm pie, cool vanilla, and sugary goodness mixing in his mouth drew an involuntary groan. “This is so good,” he said before swallowing.
“Excellent.” Liam gobbled his own bite, moaning a porn-star-worthy hum of appreciation. “Heaven.”
No, the pie was delicious, but heaven was the entire moment. Sitting there in the low light with the man he loved. The man who accepted him and hadn’t run from an awful situation. Who wasn’t making him talk about it yet because he knew Tate and could tell he wasn’t ready. Heaven was touching Liam, sleeping beside him, and waking to him in the morning.
Christ, he’d gone sappy.
They ate in comfortable silence, and Tate’s tension melted away with each bite. The pain medication kicked in as well. By the time Liam pushed his plate across the table with a groan, “Ugh, I can’t eat another bite,” Tate was able to smile without more discomfort than a minor ache.
“No worries, I’ll take care of that for you.” He used his spoon to pull the plate in front of him.
Liam chuckled. “Thank you for your sacrifice. Oh, this is a good song.” He hopped up and began to dance to the upbeat pop song playing through a small speaker.
Tate couldn't have named the song or artist for all the money in the world, but he’d never complain about watching Liam dance. After polishing off the rest of Liam’s pie, he settled back in the chair and watched the show.
As usual, Liam looked gorgeous as he lost himself in the music. This peppy song was far from his usual style, but movement and dance seemed to come so naturally to him that he could adapt to anything.
After a few moments, the song changed to a slow number. Liam glided over to the table. “This is Make You Feel My Love by Adele. It’s a beautiful song. Dance with me.” He held out a hand.
Tate huffed a laugh. “You know I don’t dance, Luxe.”
“Come on.”
Why did that pout have to be so irresistible? “No fucking way.”
“You danced with me at the club the first night we met.” If his lip stuck out any farther, it’d hit the table.
“That was different. That was fast. And we mostly just humped each other on the dance floor.”
Now Liam was laughing. He grabbed Tate’s hand and tugged. “Come on, big guy. I’ll lead. All you have to do is hold on to me and sway.” He winked. “I think you can manage.”
Tate allowed himself to be pulled from the chair and maneuvered into the middle of the den. “Fine, but don’t blame me if I break your toes.”
“I’m not worried. Now, hold my hand here and put your other arm around my waist,” Liam instructed. When he did as ordered, Liam pulled him so close they were basically hugging. “Now, just move with me.”
He tried, but he was big and clunky and definitely not built for slow dancing. “I feel stupid, Luxe,” he mumbled as an awkward fish-out-of-water sensation claimed him.
“Shh. Listen to the words,” Liam whispered.
Tate blew out a breath, shut his eyes, and tried. Liam had said the song was about all the ways Adele would show her man how much she loved him. Within thirty seconds, the poetic words slid beneath his skin and straight to his soul. He relaxed into Liam’s hold and could suddenly move without bumbling.
He opened his eyes and found Liam staring deep into him as they swayed to the meaningful song. If this was dancing, he’d dance with Liam all day. The quiet, peace, and closeness to Liam soothed his wounded soul.
Cocooned in an almost dream-like state, Tate tried to convey with his eyes how much Liam meant to him. The rest of the world outside the small apartment could have evaporated for all he knew or cared. Everything he needed to survive was right here in his arms.
The song changed to another gentle tune, and Liam slowed them until they were still. He rose on his toes and kissed the puffy skin under Tate’s eye with a tender brush of his lips.
Tate shut his eyes and tried to block another of those damn emotional surges. But this time, it didn’t work. When he opened his eyes, he found Liam watching him with so much care in his gaze that he was finally able to speak. “It hurts,” he whispered.
Yes, the black eye and busted nose hurt, but that wasn’t what he meant.
“I know.” Liam didn’t need him to explain. He understood the pain Tate referred to came from the rejection and hatred of the people who were supposed to love him. It lived deep inside him, eating away at his heart. “Come here.” Liam wrapped his strong dancer's arms around Tate and drew his head into the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered. “You deserve so much better. You are worth so much more.”
Hot tears stung the inside of his eyelids, and this time, he knew he’d lose the battle to halt them. Liam had to feel the wetness dropping onto his skin, but he didn’t comment on it and just tightened his hold. Tate let everything out. Every ounce of frustration, disappointment, fear, and sadness purged out of his soul and soaked onto Liam’s shirt.
His man stood silent like the strongest pillar, keeping Tate from crumbling to the dust. How had he ever thought he’d go through life without feeling a connection like this?
When the tears finally dried up, the warm press of Liam’s lips coasted up his neck. Goose bumps erupted all over his skin, and a shiver rippled through him. He turned his head and found Liam’s mouth, stealing a deep, mind-melting kiss.
He unwound his arms from around Liam and gripped the man’s head instead, pouring every ounce of desire and love he had into the kiss. Liam moaned when their tongues met. Tate didn’t give him a second to process. He wanted Liam to be a whimpering mess, begging for him.
He kissed him with rough, aggressive strokes of his tongue that demanded a response. His injuries protested the pressure and movement, but Tate ignored it with ease. The pleasure of Liam’s lips on his was worth any amount of pain.
“Jesus,” Liam whispered against his mouth when he finally let them pause for air.
“I want you so fucking badly, Luxe,” Tate said as he kissed him again.
“Take me, Tate. I’m yours.”
He swallowed and leaned back a few inches. “Not this time. This time I…” Shit, nerves zinged through his blood. “I want you to fuck me.”
Liam gasped, and his eyes widened larger than those plates of pie. “Tate, you’re injured, and you don’t have to prove anyth—”
“That’s not what this is.” He kissed Liam, then again, and one final time, unable to stop sampling his sweetness. “I want to feel you, Luxe. I want to feel you in every way I possibly can. I want you to take me somewhere else. I don’t want to think. I just want to feel. I want to feel you inside me.”
“Well, fuck, Tate, I want that too. I’m shaking I want that so badly.” Liam stretched up and whispered in his ear. “You’re going to feel like heaven on earth coming around my cock, and I’m going to make you come harder than you ever have before. By the end of the night, you’ll be addicted to my cock in your ass.”
Jesus.
His knees shook, and his breath shuttered. “Fuck, Luxe, I'm already addicted to you in every other way.”
Liam took his hand and drew him toward the bedroom, blowing candles out along the way.
There were nerves, but they came from the unknown of a new experience. He trusted Liam with everything he had and knew his man would make his first time amazing. And if he had any say in the matter, the first man he allowed in his ass would be the last.
Over and over for the rest of their lives.