32. Chapter 32
Beau
Bosie
Translation: To cuddle
Usage: To describe cuddling up to someone for warmth or comfort
I’m a goner.
Being with Torin tonight was better than anything I could have imagined in my wildest dreams, and I play back the night over and over in my head while he sleeps on my chest.
Him agreeing—finally—to give us a chance.
Forgetting that anyone else was there while we danced.
Those green eyes, dark with pleasure when I was on my knees for him again.
His incredible body writhing on top of me while I came harder than I ever have before.
The heat of the shower, steam curling around us as I worked soap over his skin, learning every inch of him with my hands, stroking him to a third orgasm under the warm spray.
He’d even stayed the night without me asking.
Just walked into the bedroom ahead of me and started stripping the sheets, like there was no question he’d be here in the morning.
I’d grabbed fresh bedding from the linen closet, and we’d made the bed together.
Smiling across the mattress at each other like fools.
Then he’d piled right in, asking if I had a spare charger for his phone.
After grabbing one and some water and electrolytes, I’d headed back upstairs, hoping against hope that I’d finally be able to hold him while he sleeps, wondering if he’d changed his mind while I was gone.
But he’d been right where I’d left him, lounging in my bed, propped up against the pillows and scrolling on his phone. As though he was at home. In my home.
I’m done for.
Now he’s using my chest for a pillow, his arm across my waist, a thigh folded over one of mine. I listen to his deep, slow breaths, and I’m so content it scares me.
Torin is an obvious flight risk. I knew that when I asked him to be with me.
Knew it when I made love to him and when I tucked his body up against mine and told him goodnight.
I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, and by giving in to him, I’ve given him the power to hurt me.
Something I haven’t truly given anyone since coming out.
Maybe it’s old habits, my family’s initial reaction to my sexuality, the way that kind of thing rewires you. Maybe it’s because of Torin himself, who hurt me before. But so much has changed since then.
I know he’s scared, too, and after what he told me about his ex, I can’t blame him for holding back, protecting himself. I just hope I know him well enough to catch him before he runs.
Because if he does, my heart will shatter.
He lit a fire in me the day we met, and even when he was icy with me, it never went out. Now that flame is a roaring inferno, and I know what this feeling is, though I’m terrified to say it, because once I admit it to myself, there’s no turning back.
Torin takes a deep breath and yawns as he turns over. I follow him, wrapping my arm around him and tucking his back to my chest. He makes adorable sleepy noises as he nuzzles into his pillow, then his breaths even out again.
Something about us pressed against each other like this—the way we fit so perfectly together—is creating a fissure in the brittle dam that’s holding back my trepidation.
I shiver despite his warmth, adrenaline hitting my system as I work up my courage. “Torin,” I whisper.
His even breaths continue, his rib cage expanding and contracting in my arms.
I swallow hard and whisper again before I lose my nerve. Whether he’s awake or not, I need to say it.
“I’m in love with you.”
I hold my breath for a reaction, but none comes. He’s well and truly asleep. I shudder as I exhale and reflect on my words, still hanging in the quiet room.
I’m in love with Torin Ramsay.
With this new word attached to our relationship, the feeling courses through me, making my heart swell, pushing some of the fear aside.
Because I may not know what will happen tomorrow or the next day, but right now I’m holding the man I love. And right now, that’s enough.