Page 54 of Stray for You

My body is loose and light, but the relief doesn’t quite reach my head or heart. They remain heavy as I ease myself out of thebeautiful man lying exhausted on the bed beneath me.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Cameron

JULIAN INSISTS ON cleaning both of us up. I submit to his fussing mostly because I’m too fucked out to want to move. It’s been a while since I’ve bottomed, and I don’t remember it feeling quite that good.

I’m never, ever admitting that to him.

The last thing the world needs is a Julian Brooks with a swollen head because of his topping prowess. Nope, this one is going with me to the grave.

It’s not even dinner time, but Julian climbs into bed with me regardless, snuggling up against my back as we lie naked under the sheets. The sun went down early, leaving my room dark enough to make falling asleep like this before eight p.m. powerfully tempting. Lord, what am I becoming? I barely got out of bed with him this morning, dragged myself to band practice, then came home and ended up right back where I started the day. Good thing this is temporary or I’d never be a functioning adult again.

Is that how adulthood works? You go to your job and you cook dinner and that’s it? Part of me always hoped it was more like … well, more like this. I never wanted a life where I tended to hobbies and responsibilities at the expense of passion. With Julian, it almost feels like I could have both, but that’s probably the endorphins speaking.

Julian nuzzles against my back. “How do you feel?” he asks.

“That is such a lame question,” I grumble.

“I see the high has worn off,” Julian says. “I guess I should have worked harder.”

I don’t respond, mostly because I can’t fathom what “working harder” might entail. I’m so thoroughly done over that anything more sounds as much like a threat as an enticement. Yet heat tickles my belly, suggesting perhaps there are greater heights I’d be willing to explore with him.

Yeah, that’s definitely the endorphins talking.

Julian sighs, warm breath blowing against my back. Contentment wafts off his body and laps against my skin with his every exhale.

“I’ve been thinking about getting my tongue in you since we got in that tub in my hotel room,” Julian says. “I can’t get enough of you, Cam. Christ, I could do it all again right now.”

There’s enough heat in his voice that I set a hand on the arm he has wrapped around my chest in an attempt to calm him.

“You could, but I couldn’t,” I say. “I haven’t done that in a while.”

Incredible as it was, my body is reeling from the experience. I stood under the hot water in that shower delaying things due to nerves for longer than I care to admit. In the end, it didn’t even matter. Julian was so ridiculously … devoted that it short-circuited any anxiety trying to inhabit my brain.

“I’m surprised,” Julian says slowly, carefully. “Surprised you’d, you know, do that with me. If it’s been a while and all.”

His stilted speech reveals his nerves. The hell is he nervous about though? I just let him top me, and I might do it again before he leaves.

“We can do it the other way too if you want,” he says. “I mean, apparently we’re both at least a little vers, so fair play and all that.”

“Fair play?”

“Well, that and I really want your dick in me.”

I snort a laugh. “My dick isn’t going to work anymore by the time you leave if we keep going like this.”

I expect him to chuckle or retort. His silence sets off a warning in the back of my mind. Is it the mention of the inevitable future barreling toward us? It’s not a secret that this is going to end. He bought a round trip ticket. In a few days, he’ll get on a plane and return to New Jersey, and both our lives will return to normal. They have to.

“You know,” I say, trying to lighten the mood, “we can keep visiting after this. I mean, it’s been fine and all, so there’s no reason not to do it again except for the cost of the flights, but if we look for windows where the tickets are cheaper, we could work it out.”

“Yeah, we could do that,” he says, but it sounds half-hearted at best.

Maybe the travel isn’t worth it to him. He can afford the tickets way more easily than a barista and musician, so maybe it sounds like an unfair burden. Maybe he’s having so much fun jetting around for his conferences that it wouldn’t be worth the trouble to see only me, but then why come here at all?

“We don’t have to,” I say.

“No, no,” he says quickly. “No, it’s fine. We can do it that way.”

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