Page 54 of His Until Christmas

“You ready?”

I only have one word left for him.

“Yes.”

His hips shift, and I’m gasping, but he’s got broad Trelawney shoulders, and that’s more than enough to cling to.

He fucks me slowly, then faster, and his hand on my dick breaks me wide open the same way me coming on his cock must leave him shattered.

His thrusts deepen, and this is the lowest groan yet from him as his movements stutter for a last time. So does my heart once our breathing settles and we share the same pillow.

Outside the bedroom window, light fades across a city that will glitter as soon as it gets darker. That’s when London is life to me, or when itwas.

Reece smiles at me across our shared pillow, his warm gaze rewriting words I’ve told myself so often.

Yes, London can be life, but only with him to share it.

14

I’msure the city sparkles even more brightly outside by the time hunger drives us out of bed. The only bright light I’m interested in is the one inside the fridge where I rummage for some supper. Ordinarily, doing that in only my underwear and a crumpled sweatshirt could be chilly. I don’t get a chance to shiver with my Trelawney-shaped radiator behind me.

Reece’s bare chest kicks out heat I’d snuggle into if his stomach didn’t rumble loud enough for me to hear. He also reaches past me for ingredients that we put together in a kitchen that is trademark Heligan chaotic. We sit down to eat from plates that don’t match, and fuck knows where Rex hid the bread knife, but this cheese sandwich laced with some of the chutney Gran gifted to Rex for his birthday?

It’s epic.

So is Reece’s bedhead, but being neat and tidy is overrated compared to sharing a table with someone who reminds me of the man I’ll meet tomorrow. Arthur can look similarly wild when he’s been on battlement duty, keeping watch over the same rocks Reece will guard this weekend after his family celebration.

We’re so in tune, he mentions the same person. “Arthur’s train get in from Penzance early tomorrow?”

“He’s not coming from Penzance. He’s been catching up with friends. His train won’t get in until eleven.”

He nods, that bedhead catching the light and gleaming so gold I don’t have a single urge to find my comb or hair gel. He’s perfect exactly as he is. Precious, even with his mouth full. His stuffed cheeks are a housemate reminder. I reach for my phone to snap a shot of that similarity, and Reece notices me looking for it. He swallows before asking, “Missing something?”

“My phone. Must have left it upstairs.”

“Me too.”

Neither of us wear clothes with pockets, which is just as well. Adding a post-sex selfie to my housemate group chat would only prompt a bullet-fast response.

I can already predict what Sebastian would type.

omfg r u happy

I am.

I also prickle with something less so.

Patrick’s blackboard isn’t in this kitchen. I still picture this affirmation.

I choose my own direction.

That would be easier to believe if the chutney jar on the table between Reece and I didn’t have a love heart drawn on the label like I once drew on a Post-it in an unconscious mirroring of who taught me how to show care. “I need to talk to Gran.”

Reece nods, not probing or pushing for more info. I bet that’s why this pours out. “I haven’t helped her, have I?”

He’s sympathetic. “Who could fault you for being her shield?” This tells me how hard he’s listened. “Her cloak when she needed shelter.” There’s a table between us. His feet find mine underneath it. “Kids show me over and over that the only real way out of grief is through it, Jack. Feelingallthe feelings.Opening that closed drawer or locked window.” Reece pushes away from the table to stand. “I’ve got some support links on my phone you could share with her if you want. Hang on.”

His steps creak overhead up the stairs. So does my heart when he comes down that staircase so much faster than he climbed it.

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