Page 23 of Room 1017

“Wow! I was going to ask where you’d ordered dinner from. I didn’t know you were planning to cook.” Peter was standing at the stove, and I quickly scanned him for signs of pain from being on his feet too long. He was always stiff after a PT session, and I didn’t want him to hurt himself for my sake, but beyond favoring his right leg, he seemed to be doing okay. “You didn’t have to. I would’ve been happy with a greasy burger from GG’s. Heck, give me a PB-and-J sandwich and I’m a happy man.”

“I know,” he said, glancing at me with a shy smile before leaning down to open the oven and pull out a pan, filling the small kitchen with an aromatic gust of warmth. “But I wanted to.” He said it quietly, as if imparting some great secret. It was hard for him to be open about his feelings, but I knew he was working on it, and I appreciated the effort. He set the pan on the stovetop, setting the oven mitts aside.

“You didn’t tell me what I could bring, so I brought dessert,” I said, lifting the cardboard box I’d picked up from Grounded, a bakery downtown.

Peter’s eyes didn’t go to the pie I was carrying, though. Instead, his eyes roved down my body, as if clothes were no obstacle to his view. “I love dessert,” he said, his voice deepening.

My throat was tight as I swallowed, and my pants were following suit. “That’s good,” I answered, slightly breathless.

Moving the chicken from the pan to a serving dish, Peter nodded toward the dining room. “Why don’t you have a seat, and I’ll be right there.”

I wanted to ask what I could do to help, it was something I would offer anyone, but I knew how important it was to him to do this alone. He wasn’t just telling me about the progress he’d made, he wasshowingme. When I thought of the heat that had flared between us today during his session, the line we’d been so close to crossing, I had a pretty good guess what the message was that he was trying to get across.

The time to go slow was quickly approaching an end. Thank gods, because if I had to endure another session like that, I would combust!

The dining room was transformed from the last time I’d been in here. Gone was the dusty unused mausoleum vibe. Now, the curtains were drawn back, letting evening sunlight spill into the room and showcasing his newly tidied backyard. The wood table looked like it had been oiled, and it was set with placemats, fine white china, polished silverware, and in the center, two tall lit candles.

It took everything in me to sit there and not rush to help as Peter carried in the dishes one at a time, leaning heavily on his cane. I gripped my thighs under the table, telling myself that he had this. He was stronger than he knew, and I was so damn proud of the way he was pushing himself.

At last, Peter slid into his chair across from me, and he couldn’t hide the sigh of relief as he let himself relax. He closed his eyes in a long blink, and I had to fight the urge to go over there and give him a long massage, working out the knots one by one. Sighing, he met my gaze across the table. “Sorry, I would offer you wine, but… I haven’t been keeping alcohol in the house.” He winced, and although he might’ve been embarrassed to admit that fact, I couldn’t have been prouder. It was the easiest way to resist temptation in the first place.

“Don’t apologize. I’m fine with water, but…” I shook my head. “I’m sorry, but this just won’t do.”

Peter frowned, no doubt wondering what he’d done wrong. He looked around the table for what was missing. “What can I—”

I pushed back my chair, and grabbing the placemat by the edge, I slid my place setting around the table until it was beside him. “There, much better.” I pulled out the chair and sat down, allowing myself the indulgence of reaching over to squeeze his thigh lightly. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

His cocky grin said it all. “Much.”

Peter had made herbed chicken and roasted vegetables, with a nutty rice on the side. Maybe it was just because I was starving, but it was the most incredible thing I’d ever put in my mouth. “I had no idea you were such a good cook,” I said, demolishing my meal with shocking speed. “What other hidden talents do you have?”

He offered me a filthy smirk. “Well, I would tell you, but it would be highly unprofessional of me to talk to my physical therapist about the things I can do with my tongue.”

Heat warmed my cheeks, and Peter’s gaze followed the blush with his eyes to where it disappeared into the collar of my shirt. It certainly didn’t stop there, though. Heat and tingling need spread much,muchlower, and I wiggled in my seat as I felt the telltale seep of slick, making my ass cheeks glide against each other.

I gazed fixedly at his mouth, panting when he licked his lips. “Maybe I should check to make sure those muscles are in working order. It would be such a pity if I wasn’t giving your entire body the attention it needed. As your physical therapist, of course.” My fingers were already creeping over to close the gap between us to run up his thigh, and I found his cock, ready and waiting.

He groaned as I palmed his hard length through his pants and gave him a firm squeeze, feeling him flex in response. “What about dessert?” he asked, teasing, while also reaching for me.

“I’m sure I have something sweet for you.” It was cheesy as hell, but as he grabbed me by the back of the neck to draw me closer, our laughs quickly turned to groans as our mouths met for a hard kiss, full of weeks’ worth of pent-up sexual frustration.

It was clear this was a bad angle for him. I could’ve easily crawled into his lap from here, but as soon as I felt him flinch in pain, I decided it was past time to move this somewhere more comfortable. I’d let him do all the work to make dinner, to show me how far he’d come. Now it was my turn.

“Let me take care of you now,” I whispered against his lips before I stood up and took his hand, drawing him up to standing.

He was already nodding, just as desperate as I was for a little relief. “Please.”

15

Peter

Ididn’treachformy cane. Not because I was so confident that I wouldn’t fall, but because I knew Casey would catch me if I did. I trusted him because he’d earned it, and I would follow him anywhere.

Our fingers interlaced, he led the way toward my bedroom, walking backward to keep eye contact. And my angel’s beautiful blue eyes had so much to say. I’d waited so long for him, though not just these last weeks. I’d waited a wholelifetimefor him.

The room was dark, and when Casey reached for the light switch, I put my hand up to stop him. “I-I can’t…” I began, thinking of how I still avoided mirrors. I hated every single one of my scars.

“Please,” he whispered, sliding into my embrace like water, with such fluid grace. “I want to see you, Peter.”

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