The Spiral Down (The Fall Up #2)(78)

“Grip yourself,” I demanded, pressing in a fraction of an inch.

“Oh…f*ck,” he gasped, throwing his head back, his face contorting in pure ecstasy. “Evan, please.”

I smiled to myself and pressed only the slightest bit deeper, but it was more than enough to make us both groan. As much as I was enjoying his reaction, I was equally torturing myself.

Dropping to an elbow by his head, I sank an inch deeper but still refused to move. “Give me your mouth.”

His parted lips instantly found mine, and I swallowed his whimper as I pressed in farther. Our tongues danced as pleasure coursed through me.

“Fuck me,” he pleaded into my mouth.

It was a sentiment I shared, but right then, I was basking in the overwhelming feelings of it all. It was better than anything I could have imagined, but that had nothing to do with being bare and everything to do with Henry.

I turned my head and whispered in his ear, “Do you feel that?”

He nodded, the stubble on his jaw scrubbing with mine.

Remembering his words from over a week earlier, I thrust forward, planting myself to the hilt. “This doesn’t make you gay, Henry.” I roughly bit the lobe of his ear. “It just makes you mine.”

His arms folded around my neck, and a loud moan hissed from his mouth. “Yours.”

Slowly withdrawing, I corrected him. “Evan.”

His muscles clenched around me as he confirmed, “Yours, Evan.”

No truer words had ever been spoken. I didn’t know what the future held for us, but no matter what happened from that moment on, Henry Alexander Gilchrist would always be mine.

For nearly a half hour, I worked him with my cock and my hands. By the end, we were both covered in sweat with our releases mingling in the ridges on his stomach.

We collapsed, sated, on the bed and then spent the next hour talking and laughing, curled into each other’s sides—the way it should have been.

Our first time together might not have gone the way I wanted, but I could live with the memories of that night and the searing pain that had followed if I was lucky enough to keep him.

It was suddenly clear that I’d been right when I’d met Henry. He was a storm of epic proportions. But maybe he was the only one capable of tearing my walls down.

And then to find that my broken pieces actually made him whole?

Well, that was nothing short of perfection.




My sore, sexed-out muscles protested as I awoke to the blaring of my phone on the nightstand. Henry’s naked body was draped across me, his even breaths tickling my chest. I did my best contortionist act to silence the noise without jostling him.

Once I got my phone, I saw my stepfather’s name blinking on the screen.

I glanced back down at Henry before lifting it to my ear. If my parents were calling so early, something had to be up.

“Hey, John,” I whispered, smoothing down the top of Henry’s sleep-mussed blond hair.

“So your mother and I just got back from breakfast at The Sunrise,” he informed me.

The Sunrise had been a weekend ritual for them for as long as I could remember. Sometimes, they went on Saturday. Sometimes on Sunday. But, regardless of the day, it happened every weekend. And, up until that moment, I’d never thought too much about their predictable routine. However, now, my mind drifted with a sense of excitement as I considered the kind of rituals Henry and I would create together over the next…oh, lifetime.

A huge smile split my lips.

“How was the southwest omelet this morning?” I asked before kissing the top Henry’s head.

“I wouldn’t know. Didn’t get to eat. Your mother dragged me out of there before I could even finish my first cup of joe. See, Sally Walters brought it to our attention that you seem to have forgotten to tell us something.”

I tensed as guilt pooled in my stomach. “Um…like what?”

“Um…” he mocked. “Like the fact that you’re dating Henry Alexander.”

My head fell back against the pillows. “Shit. John, I—”

“Yeah, shit is right. Someone else is eating my omelet right now. Meanwhile, your mom is swirling around this house, snapping at me, and polishing the silver with a toothbrush because, obviously, if you’re serious enough about this guy to be swallowing his face in public, you’re serious enough to be bringing him home for dinner. Evan, I swear on my life the woman is acting like The Pope himself will be blessing us with his presence.”

I chuckled because I knew he wasn’t exaggerating. My mom was a little, well, enthusiastic when it came to entertaining. And, considering John had mentioned Sally Walters, the biggest gossip in San Francisco—or, at least, in my parents’ circle—I’d guessed that Mom had heard Henry was famous.

“I see the pictures from last night leaked to the press,” I said.

“Leaked? From the way everyone at The Sunrise was talking…there was a f*cking flood. I thought your mother was going to need CPR when Sally produced a photo of you and Henry going into a hotel two months ago. Son, if you need me to paint a picture for you here, she was so upset she didn’t even touch her Diet Coke.”

That was really bad. My mom did not mess around when it came to her morning Diet Coke.

“She’s really flipping out, huh?”