Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Oliver
Nothing in my life has prepared me for this.
To sink slowly into the body of the man I love, to see the emotions flicker on his face, the flash of pain at the initial burn, which then clears and changes to something else. Awe.
We’re watching each other closely, our gazes locked together.
His hands grasp my waist, his palms pressing into my hips and urging me closer. I can feel his heart thumping wildly and his breath hot against my collarbone as we move together.
I’m slow, careful, and the heat and tightness of his body are overwhelming. Every sensation feels heightened. My heart beats rapidly, a throbbing heavy ache in my throat that threatens to choke me with each breath.
I’m almost afraid to blink, to look away from his face, from this moment.
The world and its troubles mean nothing to me right now. All I can focus on is Callum. It’s like we are part of each other, unable to be separated by anything.
I never knew it could feel like this.
“Oliver.” He says my name like a caress.
I wedge my hand between us to stroke his cock in time with my thrusts. He hooks his legs up even higher like he’s trying to draw me further inside him.
I study his face carefully, memorizing the clean angles of his cheekbones, his dilated pupils, the flush of his skin.
“Oliver.” Callum moans again, and this time it’s accompanied by his whole body tensing, pulsing as he comes and comes.
I only last a few more strokes before I’m hurtling over the edge.
When I come back into my body, I kiss his eyelids that have fluttered shut. I kiss from his cheekbones down to his jaw and into the soft skin of his neck before pulling back to study him.
Callum opens his eyes.
“I love…” he says, and my breath hitches because it’s become a joke between us how Callum manages to say he loves me in so many different ways without actually saying the words.
“That,” he finishes, and I huff a laugh, a wisp of breath against his skin, then lean forward to kiss him again.
A few minutes later, we’ve cleaned up and are back in bed. I can’t put into words how good it feels to have Callum in my arms, his blond hair tousled, his eyes heavy-lidded and sated.
“So, I’ve been looking at the list of LGBTQ+ royalty in history,” Callum says.
I can’t help smiling. Of course Callum has investigated LGBTQ+ royalty. One of the many things I love about him is his infinitely curious brain.
“What did you discover?” I ask.
“Lots of Roman and Chinese emperors were queer. Did you know that of the twelve recognized emperors of the Western Han dynasty, ten had at least one male partner?”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”
“Yeah. Apparently, one of the terms for homosexuality in China is ‘passion of the cut sleeve.’ It comes from the story of how Emperor Ai of the Han dynasty woke up from a nap to find his lover Dong still sleeping, and rather than waking Dong up, he cut off his sleeve so he could continue to sleep.”
“Now that’s romance,” I comment.
The smile disappears from Callum’s face. “Yeah, unfortunately, the story doesn’t end quite as romantically.”
“Why, what happened?”
“Just the usual royal story of corruption, betrayal, and death,” he says softly.
I stare at his frown, knowing exactly what he’s thinking.
How will our story end?
Is there any chance it can end happily? Or are we going to join the litany of tragic couples in history?
The odds are not on our side.
I’ve never disregarded the future to pursue my happiness now. It’s one of the gifts that Callum has given me, teaching me to live in the moment.
Callum’s pulled a sheet up over his chest. I trail a hand down his side, touching the soft skin of his waist, running my fingers up his rib cage.
All the straight lines and curves of Callum’s body are beginning to feel like the geometry that underpins my life.
My need to claim this man is so strong that I find myself pulling back from him to reach up and remove the dog tags from around my neck.
“I want you to have these.”
Callum stares at me. “I can’t take your dog tags, Oliver.”
“I want you to.” I swallow hard. “I can’t do anything else to show you’re mine. I can’t publicly claim you. But I can give you these to wear. I want to know something I’ve worn for years is now next to your skin.”
Callum’s eyes are wide as he absorbs my words.
“You’re such a romantic,” he says softly, taking the dog tags from my fingers and placing them around his neck.
“I’m fairly sure no one has ever said those words pertaining to me before,” I say.
“That’s because they didn’t know you well enough,” he says the words casually, but they’re like an arrow shooting straight into me.
No one has ever known me like Callum does. Not even my former husband.
Isn’t that what all of us desire in life?
To be known.
As I curl my body around a sleepy Callum, placing a gentle kiss on his shoulder, I think of the love Nan showed my grandad at the end of his life.
Wiping the sweat from his brow. Helping him shuffle down the hallway to the bathroom.
When his pain got unbearable and he couldn’t sleep, she would sit there reading Wilbur Smith all night, her voice growing hoarse but refusing to let me take over.
Love isn’t always beautiful. It’s not always caviar and champagne and beautiful sunsets. Sometimes it is simply a familiar voice when your world is darkened by pain.
I never let Garett get close enough to experience that kind of love.
But Callum…something about him disarmed my defenses from the outset. And now we’ve ended up here. Where I’m completely in love with this man with no clear way forward.