What He Left Behind(42)

“Let’s take a step back. We still have time.” I shake my head. “But I can’t do this yet. I’m too afraid I’m going to hurt you.”

He scowls but doesn’t protest, and eases himself down onto the bed beside me.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper as I reach for some tissues to clean the lube off my hand.

“I know. It’s not your fault.” He sighs. “And you’re probably right.”

Sometimes it sucks being right. I toss the tissues away and lie down beside him. “Why were you suddenly in such a hurry, anyway?”

He releases a long, resigned breath, and rubs the back of his neck, avoiding my eyes. “Honestly?”

“Yes.”

Still not looking at me, he whispers, “Because the longer we do this, the worse you’re going to feel. About Ian.”

My heart stops. “Michael. No.” I wrap my arms around him. “You’ve got a lot of trauma to get past. We’re not going to rush this just because—”

“We haven’t rushed anything.” He lifts his gaze. “We’ve crawled through this.”

“Because I don’t want to make things worse.”

“But what about you and Ian? Do you really think he agreed to this thinking we’d be at it for months?”

“He knew it would take time.”

“Still. You guys have a marriage most people would sell their souls for.” He clasps his fingers between mine. “I don’t want to damage that. Quite frankly, I’d be happier never sleeping with another man as long as it meant I didn’t f*ck up what the two of you have.”

“No way.” I push myself up and kiss him softly. “Ian and I will take care of things between us. We’ll be fine. And I want you to be fine too. That’s why I’m here.”

He holds my gaze, as if searching my eyes for some kind of unspoken confirmation.

“We’ll be okay.” I kiss him again. “You and me, and Ian and me. I’m just sorry I made you feel like you needed to rush for my benefit.”

Sighing, he shakes his head. “You didn’t. I think I’m just used to…” He shakes himself again. “Never mind. Stupid shit my ex put into my head and my therapist has mostly gotten rid of. Except in here. In bed.”

I smile. “That’s what I’m here for. And we don’t have to stop tonight. We can just take it slow.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Roll over.” I nod past him. “Facing that way.”

He turns onto his side, and I mold myself to his back and drape my arm over him. His body is tense, his spine rigid against my chest.

“We still have plenty of time tonight.” I kiss the back of his neck. “Let’s just take it slow and see where things end up.”

Michael nods.

Holding him close, kissing behind his ear, I take my time. Touching him, tasting his skin, just being naked with him—we stay like this for ages. Slowly, his breathing falls into synch with mine. He covers my arm with his, resting his fingers over the top of mine as I run my hand up and down his chest, his abs, his side, his thigh.

Lying this close to him, it’s only a matter of time—as we both relax, I can’t help getting turned on. I try to keep my erection away from him, but Michael isn’t having any of that. He scoots back against me, pressing his ass against my cock, and at the same time, he guides my hand down to his own erection. I exhale against his neck, letting him close my fingers around his cock as I start gently rubbing against his ass. Then harder. Still harder. The friction is mind-blowing as I f*ck against his crack.

All the while, the room is completely silent except for the soft hiss of movement and our no longer synchronized breathing. He’s not quite panting, but he’s close—deep, uneven breaths, some more ragged than others.

I tug him toward me so he’s lying on his back now, and I lean down to kiss his neck. “Remember how you couldn’t handle me going down on you in the beginning?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“You got past that.” I kiss lower. The lube is close by, and I subtly move it so it’ll be within reach in a moment, and keep kissing my way down his torso. As his abs contract beneath my lips, I glance up and whisper, “You’ll get past this too.”

“It shouldn’t be something to get past.” He hisses as I brush my lips over his hipbone.

“But it is. And you will. I promise.”

He starts to speak, but as I draw the tip of my tongue along the underside of his cock, he trails off into a moan. Sucking his cock is effortless now—every time I do it, he’s more into it than before. That particular demon is a distant memory. There’s no tension, no flashbacks, so I just let him enjoy this for a while, listening to him fall to pieces. I swear he’s almost purring as he pushes his dick deeper into my throat.

I shift my weight onto one arm. “I’m going to add fingers. That okay?”

“Y-yeah.”

I put some lube on my fingers, watching him the whole time for signs of fear, and he shows none. Instead, he’s breathing hard and squirming like he does when he’s turned on and desperate for an outlet.

I set the lube aside, nudge his legs apart and press a fingertip against his hole.

“Oh my God,” he moans.