Page 66 of A Boy Called Lovesong

I let them glide slowly over my wet body, venturing over my chest, down my abs, down to the trunk of my stiff, aching dick.

The air grew heavy in my lungs and I had to push it out in deep, hefty sighs.

It had been so long since I’d touched myself, since I’d felt aroused.

There had been days when I’d thought I’d never be able to see myself as a sexual being ever again.

And yet here I was, a thousand miles from home, standing under a shower in a rundown old plantation manor in a town that seemed lost in time, and all I wanted was for someone—forhimto open the bathroom door and—

“Noah?”

I sucked in a breath of surprise and opened my eyes.

“Noah, may I come in?”

It was Lovesong.

I gingerly peered around the shower curtain to see him gingerly appear around the door to the bathroom.

“Um… I’m having a shower in here,” I replied awkwardly.

He grinned. “Yeah, I know. I can hear that. I just wanted to check you’re okay. Y’all kinda left in a hurry… again. I’m starting to think it’s me.”

“I’m fine. I’m good. It was just hotter than hell in that kitchen and I needed to cool down.”

“I know the feeling. Let me know when you’re done, I wouldn’t mind doing the same.”

The words seemed suggestive.

Was he flirting, again?

Was he fishing for an invitation to join me in the shower?

Or was I so fucking horny after so damn long that I was fantasizing about what he wanted?

For a second, I actually entertained the thought of saying, ever so casually, “You can jump in with me now if you like.” I even imagined saying it with a mild chuckle, so if he took it the wrong way, I could laugh it off as a joke.

But I’d left his words hanging in the air a moment too long, and the pause was smothering any sexual intention he may have had, and before I knew it, I said, “No problem. I’ll let you know when I’m done.”

Peering past the shower curtain, I saw the unmistakable look of disappointment on his face. A look he tried unsuccessfully to hide. “Sure,” he said eventually, then began to disappear behind the closing door.

Before it could click shut, I suddenly called, “Lovesong. Wait.”

Quickly the door opened again, and he gave an enthusiastic, “Yes?”

My words were slow, cautious. “Do you want to…”

“Do I want to what?”

“Do you want to… join me for a drink downstairs after your shower?”

He smiled and said, “Do you know that’s the first time you’ve called me by my name?”

“It is?”

He nodded. “And yes, I’d love to join you for a drink.”

I asked Leroy at the bar if he had anything not quite as strong as the moonshine I’d been served the night before, and he pulled out a bottle of bourbon. I ordered two glasses, one for me and one for Lovesong, and Leroy brought them to our table just as Lovesong arrived downstairs, looking handsome in his church clothes.

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