Page 88 of Reluctantly You

I pull him back and he nestles against me, his hands twisted into the sheets beside us.

“Relax,” I say, and he grunts in annoyance. My hand strokes up his chest, across his nipples. I hear his breathing come out in a tremble as I pluck at those sensitive nubs.

“Stop touching me,” he grumbles, and I hesitate, just for a moment.

“Do you really want me to?”

He doesn’t answer, just continues to lean against me. He could easily leave, roll away, but instead, he remains quiet. And so I resume my slow perusal of his strong, capable body.

“What happened with Rory?” Mitchell asks, and my hand comes to a stop, resting just above his beating heart.

“It’s not my story to tell, but Arnie is…a bad man. Someone who hurt him.”

He lets out a long breath. “Glad I punched him then.”

“Me too,” I reply and then bring my hand up to his neck and press against his thundering pulse. “I’m glad you were there to protect him when I was distracted.”

“Same.”

I let out a huff of laughter and then sober. Fuck, Rory was so afraid. He hasn’t seen that man in years, and of course, he was right there, at an obscure art gallery in the city. We had no way of knowing he’d be in attendance. I’m furious with myself for ever letting him out of my sight.

“How long have you known each other?” Mitchell asks, and I stroke my thumb across his bottom lip.

“Since he was eighteen. He rented a room from me and we just clicked. He was like the younger brother I never had. I protect him at all costs.”

“Yeah, makes sense.”

“You have younger brothers, do you protect them?”

“Not as much as I should have. I’ve hurt them more than anything. But the other day, my youngest brother, Magnus, called me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He pauses. “I told him about my dad.”

“What did he say?”

“He was shocked, told me to tell Matt and Max. I dunno.”

“You should. You need to tell someone.”

He sighs. “Told my therapist.”

“Good.”

“Don’t congratulate me yet. Canceled the last session.”

“Will you go back?”

“Mhm.”

Good. He needs it. Everyone needs it at some point in their lives. We have things we need to process.

“Well, if you want to talk about this more, I’m here to listen.”

Silence falls between us, and for a moment it’s just the two of us breathing. And then Mitch asks, “What was your dad like?”

“A brilliant, broken man.”

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