Page 61 of Kiss-Fist
‘Home? With me?’
It’s a question. I know by the way his eyebrows rise.
And all I can do is give my response on my shaking dominant hand. ‘Yes.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ROBBIE
I was far too meanwhen I found out that Thom had planned some kind of double date without consulting me or even checking to see if anyone else on the damn date knew sign. Even now I was furious at his thoughtlessness, but I also knew he didn’t deserve how harsh I was.
I was already flustered at him showing up at my place of work looking edible, not to mention I’d just come out of another meeting with the dean and the vice president to discuss interpreting needs for the next fiscal year, and I was once again feeling expendable. Like a damn gimmick rather than a man with a fucking Ph.D. and years of expertise in my field.
Thom was just being himself, but in that moment, it had been too sharp and I was too tender to think straight. My anger was overwhelming and in that moment, I let it take control. My regret was almost as powerful now as my fury had beenin my office.
The tears in his eyes were my undoing. I can’t believe I’d been so awful. I can’t believe I was the man who put that look on his face. The devastation, the heartbreak? I never wanted that to be me, and I wanted to fix it.
Fuck, he’s so precious. He’s the last man in the world I expected to fall for, but here I am, practically head over heels. I can’t get enough of him, and it’s in this moment I know I’m willing to compromise on things I never have before. For him. Only for him.
Because he’s entirely worth it.
I’m not ready for the afternoon to end. I want to show him that this between us can still be good. My damn near feral need for his body had me inviting him into my car, which compromised more of my values. We risked getting arrested and I risked getting fired for giving into the thing I wanted so desperately.
I’m more than thankful he stopped me when he did. Both times. Despite ripping him a new one earlier, he protected me. He always seems to be protecting me.
I want to kiss him until I can’t breathe, and we can do that, once we get back to my place. It’s not in the best state—filled with moving boxes and rooms half-packed—but I don’t think he’ll care. It’s obvious from the way he clung to me, he wants this as much as I do. He doesn’t want this to be over.
We drive in silence, my hands on the steering wheel so I don’t reach over and touch him. If I do that, we may never make it to my place. It’s becoming a problem when he’s around. I want to plaster myself to him and wait until someone peels me away.
Luckily within minutes, I pull up to my lackluster apartment and I can feel the tension radiating off of him. I’m acutely aware that we haven’t talked about us. I haven’t apologized properly yet for what I said in the note, and I know he’s afraid this is over. Just like I’m afraid he’s going to decide he doesn’t want to be with a man who has a temper like I do.
Something needs to give. I need to find a way to communicate everything I’m feeling, and I think I have an idea. I just need to get him inside.
‘Home,’ I tell him.
He nods, repeating the sign and then adding the word, ‘Nice.’
He’s a liar, and it makes me laugh because he’s so damn sweet about it. The sound vibrates in the back of my throat, and Thom grins at me before it’s wiped off his face, and he looks nervous all over again, like I might suddenly change my mind and send him packing.
God, this is all my fault, I think as I shut off the car and open the door. I destroyed his gorgeous confidence by being a dick.
Even if what I said was true, he didn’t do any of this to hurt me. I don’t think his intentions will ever not be pure. He wanted to share this new thing we have with his brother—the only family he’s ever talked about—and I was so caught up in my own head that I didn’t think about the nuances of why he might have agreed without talking to me first.
I want him to be more understanding of what I need, but I have to give him the same in return. It’s the least he deserves.
I step out and see him following me toward the stairs that lead to my apartment. Fuck, I can’t remember if I cleaned up the kitchen before I left. But in truth, I can’t remember anything past an hour ago when he was moaning against the door of my office.
I open my apartment door and step through, flipping on a light. Thom is right behind me, still damp from the storm, a large hickey sitting on the base of his neck.
It makes my cock perk up.
I did that.
Me. I marked him in a way that will last for weeks to come.
I shove my hands in my pockets to keep myself away from him, to not reach out and demolish that body with my tongue. My hands. My cock.
Not yet, I think. I need to apologize again, then to explain why I feel the way I do.
