Everything for You (Bergman Brothers #5)(94)

“I trust you.” And I do. I trust him. I believe in him. Because when Gavin Hayes sets his mind and heart to something, he does it without reservation, pouring out everything he has. Somehow, I became what he set his mind and heart to. Somehow, I’m the one he loves.

Gavin smiles, tender, adoring, a rare spark of light in those dark eyes, only for me. “Now, what do you say we go back,” he says. “And this time, you show me your bed?”





29





OLIVER





Playlist: “Young and Beautiful,” Glass Animals





Standing at the threshold of my room, Gavin frowns at the twin bed. “Hmm.”

I laugh, biting my lip. “Yeah.”

“Never mind.” Taking my hand, he drags me out of the room, down the hall. He’s slow down the stairs, careful. It makes my heart pinch, worry collapsing my chest.

“Stop fretting,” he says. “I’m fine. Well, I will be.”

“You’re hurting.”

He glances over his shoulder, still holding my hand as he walks us down the hall to the first-floor bedroom. “I’m always hurting. I probably always will be.” Slowing to a stop, he turns and looks at me, guarded, concerned. “If that’s—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” I tell him, bringing his hand to my mouth, kissing it, holding it to my cheek. “That’s not coming between us, not going to scare me off. It hasn’t before, and it’s not going to, now or ever.”

Gavin swallows roughly. “Okay.”

I search his eyes. “Do you believe me?”

His mouth tips faintly with a new, tender smile. “Strangely…yes. Seems I do.”

“Good.” Clasping his hand tight, I take the lead and guide him through the bedroom to the bathroom.

I tear off my shirt, lean into the shower, and yank on the water. Before I can turn, I feel him behind me, the firm, warm skin of his chest, pressed to my back. His mouth drifts along my neck, my shoulder as his hands trail down my sides, twine up my torso, until they rest over my heart. “You’re perfect.”

I lean back and steal a kiss. “So are you.”

He smiles against my mouth, turning me toward him. My hands cradle his face, as our mouths meet, slow and decadent. A quiet groan rolls from his throat. “Get naked, damn you.”

I laugh, stepping out of my shoes and clothes. Gavin stares at me, eyes dark, pupils blown wide as he drinks me in. “Fuck.”

I stand, proud and still, letting him look, soaking up the desire and appreciation heating his gaze. This is his first time fully seeing me. I had a full glorious view of him that morning at his house, in his bed, but I stripped underneath the blankets, depriving him of the same pleasure.

Staring at me still, Gavin yanks off his clothes, then walks us right into the shower. His mouth parts mine, his tongue glides slick and hot. Our breaths are rough, loud enough to be heard over the rush of water as I run my hands over his broad chest, the fine dark hairs dusting hard muscles. I kiss the scar on his collarbone, the birthmark on his neck, the freckle at his temple.

He wrenches me close, hand on my jaw, crushing our mouths together, wet, warm, hungry. I wrap my arms around his neck, press our chests together, our bodies where we’re hard, throbbing, pinned together. Our mouths fall open as he moves against me, the water smoothing our way.

“Come here,” he gruffs.

“I’m here,” I laugh.

He walks us further back until we hit the shower wall, his hand tight around my waist.

“I want you,” I whisper as he runs his hand over my ass, rubbing it appreciatively.

He groans against my neck, kissing the hollow of my throat. “I’m yours.”

I take his hand that’s still massaging my butt affectionately and guide it lower until he feels me, a grunt punching out of him. “You want me here?” he says.

“So bad. I don’t always, but that night in the kitchen, when your hand went wandering, I almost died, almost came so close to begging you for it. I’ve gotten myself off so many times since then, imagining that.”

“Shit,” he mutters, pressing himself into me, kissing me deep and slow. “I haven’t in so long. I’ll come the moment I’m inside you.”

“That’s okay,” I tell him gently.

He shakes his head. “No it’s not. I’m going to take my time and make it good and you’re going to be patient.”

I stare after him as he steps out of the shower and quickly dries his feet on the mat before prowling into the bedroom. I’m too distracted by the sight of him, warm, suntanned skin rippling with the flex of his muscles as he moves, to process what he has until he’s stepping back into the shower, tossing a bottle of lube on the bench, then kissing me.

When he tears his mouth away from mine, he reaches past me, pumps bodywash from the dispenser mounted to the tiles, and works it between his hands. A grin lifts the corner of his mouth. “My turn to wash you.”

I smile as he runs his hands over my neck, massaging gently over the curves of my shoulders, down my arms, chest, back, hips. He strokes my cock next, from base to tip, cleaning me, teasing me, before gliding his touch between the cleft of my ass, cleaning me there, too. His kisses are tender, exploring, reverent. I steal soap from my body, bring it to his, and wash him, too, until the air smells like herbs and steam and our warm bodies.