Page 55 of Nerdy Dirty Valentine

“Fuck, I barely lasted. But being inside of you wrecked me.”

“Good.” James lit with pure happiness, a wide, beautiful smile on his face. “I want to wreck you, same as you do to me. You make me trust that we can be wrecked. With you, I’ve never been so free. To explore, to give or take… And this is only our beginning.”

I could only nod. My heart was in my throat. He was mine, and I was keeping him. I was never going to let James go.

“I love you.” I gathered him close.

“Love you, too. Only you.”

We stayed wrapped together, sweat and stickiness on our skin.

“I need another shower,” I laughed.

“We’ll have one together.” James pointed to the nightstand. “But first, breakfast, please.”

I turned and fed him a strawberry. James smacked his lips, the chocolate coating on his mouth. I kissed him, cupping the sides of his face with my palms, tasting berry on his tongue.

“My turn,” he chuckled. He dangled a strawberry above my lips, and I snatched it with my teeth.

The kiss was sloppy-sweet. And we laughed as we kissed some more, sharing chocolate strawberries alongside our hopes and dreams.

“Best Valentine’s Day ever,” I declared.

“Technically, it’s the morning after.”

“Always the professor,” I groaned before kissing James senseless.

EPILOGUE

One year later

The day after Valentine’s

“That was the best restaurant last night,” James said.

“You think?” I added more creamer to my coffee.

He nodded. “Superb food. Amazing view. Great company. It was all that you promised and more.”

“Especially our dessert at home,” I said, and James’ cheeks pinkened at the reminder of the crème brûlée lube we’d shared.

“Why do I still blush like a schoolboy?” he griped. “Considering all the dirty things we do and say, you’d think I would stop it.”

“It’s your creamy skin. Which I happen to like.” My gaze dropped to his throat and down to where he had the first button on his shirt undone.

“Incorrigible.” He tossed a napkin at me. We were in the diner, our diner.

“For you? Always.”

“Despite the cuisine of the gods last night, I’m glad we came here. Today of all days,” James changed the subject. “Not that I’m too hungry.”

“That’s why we’re only splitting a veggie omelet.” My stomach growled a bit, and I hoped our food would arrive soon.

We came to the diner at least once a month, and each time, I had something new. I no longer ordered the same breakfast.

Sometimes, I wondered if my eating more variety and cooking more these days were a sign of healing. My food always connected me to my memories of Dad, and they didn’t feel as painful. In fact, I rather liked making meals for James or the guys at the firehouse. And I always added spice.

As for my mother, we called sporadically, not completely out of each other’s lives. I talked about her in my last AA meeting, and Rico praised my calmness after I spoke. I was calm, accepting that I could look in the mirror and no longer doubt myself. I had even taken on a new role. I was a sponsor. Miles had been homeless and a drug addict, and he had a long road ahead, but I believed my support would help his recovery. I hoped so.

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