Page 68 of Sass

I said goodbye to Carla and Ty, grabbed my coat, and headed for the flat, trying to ignore the squirming dread in my stomach at having to face my parents. When I walked into Flare, Jack was polishing the glass on the service desk, and both Drew and Chris were busy serving customers.

Chris turned at the bell and raised an inquisitive brow. He mouthed the words, “You okay?” and he was so fucking beautiful I wanted to scoop him into my arms and kiss him senseless. As far as delaying tactics went, it was a pretty damn good one, and I was still pinching myself that we were actually trying this thing between us.

Not that there had actually been a lot of trying involved since we’d decided. Chris had spent Friday evening catching up with his friends to head off any intervention they might have in mind—no clubbing involved—while I’d used the time to have a beer with one of my Harley mates before updating my accounts.

It was as if we were clearing our social decks in readiness for this next phase, making sure we had enough time squirrelled away to focus on us.Us.The idea made me giddy. But a day was still a day without touching him, and I was itching to remedy that. Sex? Yes. But mostly I wanted him close; his sharp tongue and snarky humour aimed in my direction again, making me smile. In my arms, on my lap, in my kitchen, my bed, or on my dick, it didn’t really matter. I’d take Chris any way I could get him. And if it turned out he didn’t want me the same way, it was gonna hurt like a motherfucker, but I wasn’t about to let that deter me.

I nodded to Chris that I was fine and headed upstairs to shower. Five minutes later, I turned and caught sight of someone watching me through the steam and almost had a heart attack. “Jesus Christ!” My hand flew to my chest. “You scared the shit out of me.”

Chris grinned and opened the glass door. “Give me that cloth and turn around.”

I narrowed my gaze. “I don’t have time—”

“Neither do I. Jack’s gone home and Drew’s on first lunch, so I’ve got ten minutes tops.” He eyed me up and down in appreciation. “Not nearly long enough for all the dirty things I’d like to do to you. Now turn around and I’ll wash your back. Chop, chop.”

I did as he said, enjoying the rough brush of the cloth down my back. At the sound of his phone, I glanced over my shoulder in time to see him frown and shove it back in his pocket. “Everything okay?”

He nodded, and although I recognised it for the lie that it was, I didn’t push.

“Turn around.” He slapped my butt.

I pushed my questions aside and let Chris wash me with long, slow strokes, my body responding to his presence and touch as it always did, arousal kindling in every cell. He washed me thoroughly, every crevice, every dip and curve, his slick fingers finding my piercings and rolling them gently before cupping my balls and sliding up my thickening cock. I grabbed his hand before I threw caution to the wind and simply launched myself at him—lunch be dammed.

“Dammit, Chris.” I spun to face him. “I truly worry about the quality of your English education. Your definition ofbackis about as accurate as your definition oflast.” I kissed him softly. “You’re getting me hard, baby.”

He flushed as he always did when I called him that. Then he wrapped his hand around my dick and tugged gently. “Well, look at that. Shame we’ve run out of time.” He unceremoniously dropped my cock and held out a towel.

I turned the water off and snatched the towel from him, grumbling, “You’re nothing but a bloody tease. How am I supposed to face my parents with a stiffy?”

“You love being teased.” Chris took a second towel and began drying my back, shocking the hell out of me. “And I haven’t heard the word stiffy since I was fifteen.”

I kept my head down and tried not to grin too hard.

“Are you okay about lunch with your mum?” he asked tentatively as he rubbed me down.

“No,” I answered baldly. I wasn’t going to lie. Caitlyn’s anniversary was drawing closer, and I was no nearer to sorting myself out. No less angry. No less disappointed in my family. Even though I knew it wasn’t really about them, not really.

Chris waited for me to secure the towel around my waist and then took my hands. “It’s okay to feel what you feel. You don’t have anything to prove. She was your twin. That’s a special bond.” He paused and rolled his eyes. “Listen to me. I sound like I know what I’m talking about. Newsflash: I don’t. All I’m trying to say is you’re not your family and they’re not you. But maybe it might help to close that beautiful mouth of yours for a bit and listen to what they have to saybeforeyou react. They might not understand you, or you them, but you all want the best for each other, and fuck knows that’s nothing to sniff at.”

I thought of Chris’s mother letting him walk away rather than believe him, and I took the reality check for what it was. It fired rage in my heart and a sour taste in my mouth and jolted me from any self-pity.

Chris was right. My parents would’ve torn someone like his uncle limb from limb rather than put a child of theirs through a second of having that arsehole around any longer than they had to.

“Come here.” I pulled him close and kissed him deeply, relishing the taste of coffee and something sweet on his tongue. “Thank you.”

He frowned up at me, his cheek damp from mine, his lips slick and inviting. “For what?”

“For reminding me how lucky I am. And I’m so fucking sorry that your family couldn’t see the precious cargo that you were—are—and that you needed their protection. They lost something precious when they let you go.” I eyeballed him. “And I won’t be repeating that mistake.”

His eyes filled and he blinked furiously. “Jesus, Leon.” He breathed the words. “You can’t say shit like that. I hate crying.”

“I know you do.” I kissed him again. “But it’s worth saying, and I’ll repeat it as often as you need to hear it, until you believe that I won’t walk away. I’m not your parents, or your brother, or that arsehole. All I ask is a chance to prove it.”

He swallowed hard. “I’m... trying.” He circled his arms around my waist.

“That’s all I’m asking.” I buried my face in his hair, still stiff with product, and drank in his cologne, which seemed to change from day to day. But underlying each one was something that was uniquely Chris—bold, fresh, and if you looked for it, just a little uncertain.

He let me hold him a few moments longer before he started to wriggle and pull away. It was how he’d always been. Free with his hugs, but careful about any show of need. But unlike all the other times I let him go, this time I didn’t. Things had changed between us, and I wasn’t about to let him run any longer.

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