Chapter 24
TYLER
I don’t know what’s with me today. Maybe it's the damned audiobook I ended up listening to until Jamie came home. Maybe it’s the story he shared with me that makes me want to comfort him, hold him.
Maybe it’s just Jamie.
There’s this itch under my skin I don’t know what to do with.
A part of me wants to grant his every wish and ravish him like there’s no tomorrow.
Another wants to spend hours, days doing this—kissing and touching him, on this couch that’s too small for two grown men, while he clings to me and makes all those sweet little noises when I do something he particularly likes.
Granted, he likes most of what I do to him.
My dick is about to burst through my briefs, but I can’t peel myself away from him for long enough to shed our clothes. He fits so well into my arms, against my body, as though there’s always been a Jamie-shaped space waiting for him to come into my life and fill it.
Jamie starts to tremble. Not sure why, because I’ve barely done anything yet, I’ve just been smooching him and feeling him up a bit. Then again, he is rather sensitive, which I absolutely adore.
I kiss under his jaw where I know he loves, feeling his nails dig into my shoulder. I grin against his soft skin that always smells so good even after a full-day’s work. It’s not cologne or body spray, but I’d pay good money to have it bottled up.
I continue raining kisses over his neck and collarbones, allowing myself to leave a small mark there.
Jamie’s never voiced out loud how he feels about hickeys, but I figured it’s better to play it safe, since he doesn’t wear high collared shirts at work.
So far, I’ve only left marks on areas that are easy to cover up, like his thighs and hips, and he never complained.
In fact, I once caught him blushing as he ran his fingers over the marks.
The sight was enough to have me gearing up for another round, and Jamie falling asleep right after was the only reason why I held back.
I pull his shirt up to his chest, noting with dissatisfaction that the marks have vanished by now. Well, that just won’t do.
I slide down to rectify the insolence, sucking a bruise into the raised edge of his hipbone. I bet it’s going to look really pretty there.
Another tremor runs through him, a sound not unlike a sob escaping him.
“T-Tyler…”
“Yeah?” I grin at the shakiness in his voice. “What is it, little bunny? Something you want?”
Another tremor, another sob. And then a cascade of both.
Wait. That’s not right. That’s not how he sounds when—
Shit.
“Jamie? Jamie, what’s wrong?” Panic taking hold of me, I make my way up, clasping his face gingerly between my palms. Fuck, he’s crying. “What’s wrong, little bunny?”
The nickname usually has him melting into my arms. This time it’s the opposite. A loud sob is torn out of him as he grabs my wrists and presses his face firmly into my left palm.
“I’m sorry,” he whimpers, eyes clenched shut while tears continue to run. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”
Didn’t mean to? Didn’t mean to what? I’m confused as fuck. And still panicking, because Jamie’s showing no signs of calming down.
“Hey, shhh.” I wipe away a tear that just spilled out. “Can you please look at me? Look at me, li—Jamie.”
It feels like a small eternity before he complies. And then I wish he hadn’t, because he looks scared. Scared of me.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats. Before I can think of a gentle way to coax an explanation from him, he chokes out a shaky, “I can’t do this.”
Is that what this is about? I pounced on him, and he’s not feeling it today, and he’s afraid I’ll get upset? Jesus Christ. I’m not thrilled that something I did must’ve triggered him (I’ll ask about it later), but I’m not upset.
I gather him in my arms and pull him up with me so he doesn’t feel constricted, and position him between my legs, allowing him to lean against me.
“Shh, that’s okay. We don’t have to. We never have to when you don’t want to.”
The reassurance does fuck-all. He shakes badly, clinging to me.
“I w-want to,” he hiccups against my chest. “But I can’t. It’s too hard.”
I’m really fucking lost. “What is?” No answer. “Jamie, talk to me.” I stroke his hair and feel him shiver.
“I can’t sleep with you anymore.”
I feel myself freeze, my heart skipping a beat, maybe two, before setting a fast, erratic pace.
I can’t sleep with you anymore. The words just sit there between us, heavy and…unexpectedly painful.
It should not hurt like this. It’s just sex. I’ve told him before, what we have is so much more than that. He’s my roommate, and my friend. I care for him. That won’t change whether we have sex or not. It won’t.
So why does it feel like I’m losing something I thought was mine to keep?
Okay, there’s no time for that. I need to figure out what I did wrong first. It takes me a long moment before I feel confident to speak without my voice cracking.
“That’s okay, Jamie. We don’t have to keep doing this. But…could you tell me why?”
A few long seconds pass before he speaks.
“I like you,” he whispers. So painfully softly.
“I know.” I attempt a smile, brushing the back of my finger over the silky soft skin on his cheek. “I like you too.”
Jamie whimpers, shaking his head. “No, I…I like you. I like you so much.”
Everything inside me wants to cheer at the rawness of that confession, but the way Jamie says it sounds more like a death sentence. The worst thing to ever happen to a man.
“I thought I could do this,” he continues.
“At first, I just wanted to be with you, I didn’t care in what capacity.
But it’s not enough anymore.” He sniffles, letting go of me and curling in on himself.
“I don’t think— No, that’s not true. I know I can’t share you.
I can’t.” His beautiful, tear-streaked face twists in apology.
“I’m sorry. I know this wasn’t the deal, but I can’t help it.
” The next part is whispered, like the most shameful secret. “I want you for myself.”
“Share me? Jamie, what are you talking about?”
“Lisa,” he spits out bitterly. “And everyone else you do this with.”
“Everyone el—” I do a double-take when the meaning finally lands. “Jamie, I’m not sleeping with anyone else.”
“You— What?” He looks genuinely shocked. Well, that makes two of us.
“Jesus.” I run a hand through my hair. “You thought I’ve been having sex with you while banging other people on the side?”
He fidgets, unsure, then mumbles, “We never agreed to be exclusive.”
While that’s true, I assumed that was a given. Clearly, I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Good God, I can’t believe he’s been having sex with me this whole time while thinking I was still getting some elsewhere too.
I huff a breath that’s part relief, part frustration. “Yeah, fair, that’s my fault. I should’ve been clear from the start and not assumed.”
From under his lashes, Jamie gives me a shy, hopeful look. “So…you’re not?”
I arch an eyebrow. “Do you really think I’d even have time to fuck someone else? You keep a man pretty busy, bunny.” I can’t help but chuckle when he squirms and blushes. God, he’s so fucking pretty.
I lean in, tapping my forehead against his.
“For the record, I love it. I’m just saying, any more than this, and my dick would chafe.
Plus, we’ve been going bareback this whole time.
I would never do that if I was sleeping with multiple people.
” I pull back, uncertainty making my stomach cramp. “Jamie, tell me you haven’t—”
“No!” His hands fly towards me, gripping my shoulders. “No, never. I swear.”
Thank God. Before, I never even considered the possibility of him doing this with someone else. Now that the idea has crawled into my head, I can confidently say I fucking hate it.
Since when do I care about that stuff?
“Okay. Good.” I pinch his chin gently between my fingers. “Have we cleared things up? Are you happy to carry on with what we’ve been doing?”
My relief is very short-lived.
“Honestly? No, I’m not.”
“No?” Shit. How did I manage to fuck this up so badly?
“I like you,” he repeats, and my heart skips a beat like it always does when I hear those words from him. “I want to be with you, not just when it comes to sex.”
So, what he’s essentially saying is… “You mean…you want to be my boyfriend?”
Oooh. I do like the sound of that.
Jamie’s head dips in a nod. “I know I’m asking too much. You hate the idea of a relationship, and I’m a guy—”
“What?”
Jamie blinks. “What?”
“What do you mean ‘hate the idea’?”
“You said it yourself.”
“What? When?” I’m sure those words never left my mouth.
“The day I came over to see the room, I said something about how I was sure you’d have a girlfriend. And you made this face, like you were grossed out, and said ‘That’s not my area’.”
The memory flashes in my mind, vague but undeniably there.
God, what a mess.
“Okay.” I sigh, showing Jamie my palms. “I guess it’s my turn.”
“Your turn?”
“To make a confession.”
I’m kicking myself for not having done it sooner. I should’ve put all the cards on the table right from the beginning. We could’ve avoided this cluster-fuck.
“Haven’t you wondered how we’re such a good match in bed? And I don’t mean just the things we’re both into. You call yourself ‘needy’ and ‘too much’, and yet I have no problem keeping up.”
It’s supposed to be a serious conversation, but I can tell Jamie is getting affected by the sex-talk. So fucking cute.
“I thought…you just like sex. And that you’re open to trying new things,” he mumbles, flustered.
“I mean, yeah.” I reach for his hand, interlacing our fingers. Now that the spotlight is on me, I feel uncharacteristically vulnerable. “But the reason why I’m not in a relationship, the reason why none of my relationships ever lasted more than a few months, is that I have a condition.”
“A condition?”
“How much do you know about hypersexuality?”
The question is rather redundant. Whatever he thinks he knows will likely be full of misconceptions.