Page 132 of Reluctantly You

It swirls within me, so much so that I find myself naked and painting in the living room in the middle of the night, the canvas a swirl of nothing andeverything.

I hear his footsteps as he approaches, the quiet purr of Little Pants in his arms as he stops next to me.

“You okay?” he asks, and I nod before shaking my head.

“Think I’m freaking out.”

He nods and sets Little Pants on the table. She pads over to an open cardboard box and slots herself inside.

I turn my gaze back to the man who is responsible for it all.

For upending my life and making me want things I never knew I could have.

“What is it?” he asks, staring at the mess on the canvas.

“Nothing. And everything.”

He nods, not understanding, but not delving deeper.

“Do you want to be left alone?” he asks, his dark eyes meeting mine. I can’t help but stare back, my entire body vibrating with a deep need for this man.

Fuck, fuck him and the way he’s infiltrated my life.

“I’m gay,” I say, my voice cracking slightly. Those two words sit between us heavily and he lets out a slow breath.

“I know.”

“I didn’t know I’d want someone like you, but now…” The words trail off, and I stare back at the canvas. “Maybe we should stop while we’re ahead, before I ruin everything.”

“No.”

It’s one word, but it’s so final. He’s not letting me go.

“We should stop. I don’t know what I want.”

“You want me. It’s as simple as that.”

How can it be though? Nothing is ever simple. Everything is hard and fraught with trials. Just look at my life.

“Do you want me, Mitchell? Or am I wrong about that?”

I shake my head. “You’re not wrong.”

“Good. Then finish up and come to bed.”

I watch him step toward me, his hand curling around the nape of my neck and bringing me in for a soul-crushing kiss.

And then he’s gone, and I feel unsettled and yet at peace.

I don’t know what to do.

Chapter Twenty-One

Gideon

Mitchell is slipping, a chaotic mess. And yet, I want it. I want all of it—the mess, the exploration. I want to be a part of it.

“You need to tell him about your dad,” Shiloh says as we eat lunch together at work. It’s Friday, almost the weekend and I just wanted to spend it buried inside of Mitch. I don’t want to disrupt what we’ve built.

---