Page 77 of Romance Languages

“What’s in the box?” I asked.

He opened it and removed a candle.

“Mood lighting?” I joked.

Seamus creased his brow in determination. He leaned forward and took both of my hands. “I know you’re scared, Jules. I know you’re going to try to talk your way out of this, but I won’t let that happen. You are a beautiful man, and you shouldn’t be embarrassed or ashamed of how you look.”

He stood up and placed the candle on my nightstand. He took out a pack of matches from his pocket and placed it beside them.

“Here’s what we’re going to do tonight. We’re going to turn off the lights and undress in the dark. We’ll be naked together, but I won’t be able to see you. Only touch you. Taste you.”

My breath hitched. My dick immediately went full mast.

“The candle will be on the nightstand. If you get to a point where you feel comfortable, light it.”

I gave a terse nod. My body trembled for all different reasons. Lust, need, fear.

I was going to lie naked with Seamus, the man my heart longed for.

“You ready?” he asked.

My throat was thick with nerves, but the kind of nerves that hit me at the top of a roller coaster. I was tired of looking up from the ground. I was ready to fly.

“Hit the lights.” He pointed behind me at the lightswitch.

I gazed into his crystal blue eyes as he disappeared into the darkness.

I heard the rustling of Seamus’s shirt shucking off his frame, then the zip of his pants.

My heartbeat pounded in my ears. I exhaled a shaky breath as I unbuttoned my shirt. But to my surprise, my fear turned into a rush of exhilaration. The pitch blackness snuffed out my insecurity. Off went my shirt, cool air hitting my naked chest. Then went my pants, and finally my boxers. My hard cock stuck straight out, loving the open space.

I moved closer to thepwopsound of Seamus kicking off his shoes, the clanging of his belt as he stepped out of his pants.

Seamus was naked.

I was naked.

I was walking around naked in my apartment, something I never did. I stayed in a T-shirt and underwear up until the very last second before I darted into the shower. I pulled on a towel and avoided looking at the mirror when I stepped out of the shower before beelining to my dresser to put clothes on. In other words, I was only naked for maybe three minutes per day.

“Marco.” Seamus’s disembodied voice cut through the silence.

“Polo,” I called back.

We had no right to be making a game out of this. Our laughter filled the dark.

“Marco,” he said again, this time his voice closer, a playful chuckle.

“Polo.”

According to Chase, my resident science guru, when one sense was dulled, the others were heightened. That had to explain the sheer surge of heat, unlike anything I’d ever experienced, when Seamus’s hands found me.

The tips of his fingers landed on my chest, sliding through the curls of my hair. Nobody had ever touched me there. I didn’t have firm pecs like he did. They were unshapely mounds leading down to a protruding stomach.

What if he was grossed out? What if he snuck out?

I shushed those thoughts. Seamus wouldn’t do that. He wasn’t like the guys on Milkman writing me off as a fatty, refusing to see the human underneath.

He let out a low, raspy moan as he moved up to my shoulders, his strong hands cascading over my skin. He gave them a massage, letting out the tension. My head dipped back.

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