Page 46 of The Night Of
But I wished he’d said it, too.
I pushed that away and dragged my fingers over Jonathan’s chest, drawing out his sensory experience, sending him into more laps around the sun and the moon. He was still panting, and I grinned as I trailed my index finger up and down his arm, dipping the barest touch into and out of his elbow, the curve of his wrist, up to his biceps and then the hollow of his throat. I kissed his chin, his jaw. Nibbled on his earlobe. “Jonathan,” I whispered into his ear. “You are perfect.”
Finally, his eyes fluttered open, and he rolled into me. Our foreheads met. I tugged his tie free from around his wrists. He laid his palms on my chest, then ran his hands up and around my neck, holding on to me. “Sean…”
I waited. I hoped. I bit my lip.I love you.I wrapped my arms around him. Drew him close, holding him like I’d wanted to for a year—no, more than a year. For as long as I’d known him.
Instead of saying those words, Jonathan kissed me softly, sweetly, and then closed his eyes. He drifted off, falling asleep as I watched over him, and I tried to swallow away my hurt.
* * *
Screaming woke me.Thrashing. Someone getting pulled out of my arms. Hands and legs being grabbed. Fingernails digging into my biceps.
I swung, cursing, unable to see. Roaring, I tried to get to my feet, but there were blankets tangling me, too many blankets, and I stumbled, fell to my knees. I hit the cold hardwood and pitched forward, landing on my palms as hands skittered down my arms.
“Sean!” Jonathan shook me. He kneeled in front of me and dragged my face up to meet his. “Wake up!”
I did, everything snapping back at once. I gasped and dragged in a breath, looking left and right and then dead ahead, at Jonathan.
“Are you with me?” Jonathan asked. His hand was cool against my cheek. His thumb stroked over the sweat-soaked skin of my temple. “Are you with me, Sean?”
“Yeah,” I croaked. I rolled on the floor, groaning. Fuck, that nightmare had been one of the worst I’d ever had. How was that fair after the night we’d just shared? I grabbed Jonathan’s naked thigh and pulled myself into his lap. Laid my cheek on his skin and breathed him in.
His fingers carded through my hair. Moonlight shone down on us, painting the floor in eddies and silver swirls. I listened to his breathing, felt the thrum of his pulse through his femoral artery and his quad.
“I have nightmares,” I whispered. “About last year. On the beach.”
Jonathan fingers tightened.
“That was a bad one.” Understatement. “I relive it. From both sides. First I’m attacking you, and then I’m you, and I’m still attacking you—me. I’m being held down, and I can’t breathe, and I can’t get away, and when I look up, try to give myself some kind of sign or signal, I look into my eyes and I look evil—” I heaved, fighting down nausea as I buried my face in Jonathan’s thigh. “I thought I hurt you.”
Jonathan coaxed my face upward. “You didn’t hurt me. You didn’t do anything I didn’t want.”
“But—”
“I need to apologize to you,” he breathed. “I never thought about how you might have taken what happened between us. How it could have looked to you, if you didn’t remember everything. I never thought…” He trailed off. “I assumed you ran. I never tried to reach out to you. I should have, and I’m sorry I didn’t.”
I melted into him, into his hand on my cheek and the warmth of his thigh, into the soft words he spoke. I needed him, needed his reassurance. But it wasn’t all his fault, and it wasn’t all mine, either. We were both to blame for this, for our mutual fumbling toward a future we were too frightened to negotiate like adults. Jack Daniel’s and secrets never mixed. “I’m sorry, too. I wish I wouldn’t have brought that fucking bottle of booze.”
“I’ve nevernotbeen ashamed of this.” His voice was strained in the darkness, thin and weak. “What I wanted—want. I didn’t know how to tell you, or what to do after I had.”
“I don’t want you to keep anything from me.” His eyes were pools of darkness, shadows in the hollows of his face. I ran my fingers over his jaw. He was so fucking gorgeous it made my heart hurt. Made me stop breathing and forget to start again. “I want all of you, Jonathan. Every single part of you. There’s nothing you need to hide. Okay?”
He hesitated.
“Okay?” I curved my hand around the back of his neck.
“Okay,” he breathed.
I rose to my knees. “There is nothing,” I started, in between kisses to his eyelids and his nose. “Weak. Or broken. Or disgusting—” More kisses, to his jaw, his pulse, the curve of his stubbled chin. “About you. You are the hottest man I’ve ever known.”
He smiled and turned into my touch. I felt the curve of his cheek against my neck and nuzzled him back, breathed in the scent of his hair. Sweat and soap and him, Jonathan, something indescribable and tantalizing and perfect. “Do I need to remind you how fucking hot you are? How much you turn me on?” I grabbed his hand and pulled it to my cock. Just being next to him, touching him, was enough to make me ache.
Hemmmed into my ear. Nibbled on my earlobe. “You might have to remind me, yes.”
I pulled him to his feet and steered him toward the bed. “What will it take, Mr. President? Would you listen more to my mouth?” He shivered. “My tongue?” A breathy moan. “Or my cock?” I asked, pushing him back onto the mattress.
Jonathan propped himself on his elbows as I crawled between his legs. We met over his chest, kissing slowly, our cocks hard and brushing against each other. My eyes caught on a shine of navy blue at the corner of the mattress.
