Page 21 of Forever We Fall

“I am not,” he bellows.

“It’s pretty homoerotic.” I lick my lips. “Tight singlets. Muscled bodies pressing against each other with all their might. The sweat. The grunts.”

“Shut up!” He lunges and shoves the edge of my mattress. The bed jerks and skitters. He leans over me, huffing.

I hold perfectly still.

This is one of my fantasies come to life.

His fury unleashes on my naked flesh. His hands on me, rough and demanding. His commands barked in that reedy voice. My body taking him away from his troubles for hours on end.

Our sweat mixing. Our tongues fighting. Our cum flowing.

I’m so ready. “There’s nothing wrong with the feelings you’re having.”

“Murder is frowned upon.” His hands flex, making his knuckles white. Like he’d love nothing more than to put them around my neck and squeeze.

“So is fucking, outside of narrow, neat, and tidy parameters ordained by the corrupt church. People still do both.”

His shoulders hunch. The fight drains from his features.

“Maybe they shouldn’t.”

He’s a masterpiece that’s been shredded. Only the tiniest fibers hold him together.

The instinct to reach out and pull him into my arms is new and shocking. I don’t give in to it. He’d probably implode, create a black hole, and take me with him.

What a way to go, though.

“I would never push myself onto someone,” I whisper.

“You told him to get on his knees.” His voice wobbles.

“When he didn’t do it willingly, I told him to leave. No harm done.” I grasp for the right words to explain something that so few people understand.

“I like controlling the situation.” Fuck knows it’s the only control I ever felt in my life. With a father like mine, all I experienced was edicts and disappointment. His and my own. Mostly his.

“More than that, I like a person’s willingness to give over control. That control is only as strong as the person’s trust in me. If they don’t trust me, they can pull the plug at any time. I would never make someone do something they don’t want to do. I simply give them the freedom to embrace the dirty things they desire but are too scared to admit.”

I take a deep breath and let it out. “I’m not a monster.”

He straightens and wipes a hint of tears from his eyes.

“Hell, I’m still a virgin. If that’s even a thing. I’m pretty sure it’s bullshit.” I push myself to sit but lean back against the wall. That way, he knows I’m not making any moves toward him.

His haunted eyes study me for a long minute. He drags in a deep breath and then huffs it out like a beast.

“That makes one of us.”

Unlike the cheer I always planned to do when I lost my virginity, Arlo looks none too pleased about the fact that he no longer has his. His voice is thinner than normal. His face is drawn.

My heart cracks wide open.

For a second, I can’t catch my breath. It’s like he took a sledgehammer to my chest.

When my mother died, I had to push it all down. My father allowed not a single tear.

Emotion is for the weak. Kido men are not weak.

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