Page 75 of Wants and Needs
“I don’t know what that means,” he says softly, and when I look into his eyes I see an apology in them.
“It’s okay, I didn’t expect you to. It’s on the asexual spectrum. It means I only develop sexual attraction to a man once I’ve formed an emotional connection with them, and I only mention men because I’m gay and demisexual.”
“That’s easy enough to grasp,” he says and smiles at meagain. “All right then. I did feel... oh bollocks, I’m just going to be blunt, okay? If I make you uncomfortable with anything I say?—”
“You won’t,” I assure him.
“But if I do?—”
“Then I’ll let you know,” I assure him.
“Good. So, I was aroused by watching men fuck on a screen, and since Monday I’ve noticed I feel attraction to other men.”
I grumble at that, not happy about it.
“Don’t worry,” he assures me and pats my arm. “I noticed handsome men, but I didn’t want to kiss any of them. It’s not like I want to kiss every woman I find attractive either.”
“So it’s the same for both women and men?” I ask.
“I think so, yes. I thought so too before coming here, but now I’m sure after that kiss.”
“It was good?” I ask, feeling beyond insecure—that’s not great.
“It was good,” Carter assures me and nods.
Then he reaches up and cups my cheek. I hold my breath as he inches closer, slowly, slowly, until his lips are right there, plump and soft. The memory of how they feel and taste is too much to resist, so I close the gap and kiss him.
It’s still a soft kiss, though like last time, I go weak in the knees when his tongue slides slowly over my lower lip. It’s a good thing I’m sitting down.
Carter leans back but stays close enough that I still feel like we’re in our own little world.
“Really good,” he whispers, and I finally relax. That bout ofawful insecurity forgotten, I grab his hand from my cheek and bring it to my mouth, kiss the back, and then keep his hand clasped in mine as I lie down.
He follows me and we just stare at each other for a few minutes. It’s nice—the silence, the company, the wonder I feel inside me.
“So I guess I’m bi,” Carter whispers, though there’s more certainty in it this time. “I don’t know if I have a right to call myself that, though,” he adds, and something in my chest warms considerably at his words.
“You do, of course,” I tell him, feeling defensive on his behalf. “You have a right to take on whatever label you feel comfortable with.”
“I guess that’s true,” he murmurs, and once more we’re silent, until his stomach growls loudly enough for me to hear it.
“You forgot to eat,” I conclude.
“I did,” he admits, and winces.
“Want to go out for an early dinner?” It’s only five thirty, but I bet there are a lot of places open.
“Why don’t we go to that place we went to last time?” I tense at the reminder, but Carter squeezes my hand and brings me back to the present. “You told me you like to go there with your family, so we won’t go if you’d like to keep it as a restaurant you only go to with them, but I don’t want you to stop doing anything you enjoy because of that grave robber.”
I snicker at that nickname he almost always calls Dirk.
“We can go,” I assure him. “You’re right, and I don’t want to keep it as a place just for family.” I don’t do that with any restaurant,but it was still nice for him to be considerate, so I leave it at that.
My reward is one of his gorgeous smiles, and when we walk out of my apartment hand in hand, I know we still have much to talk about, but I don’t think I’ve ever felt this content, so I leave the questions for later.
18CARTER
We arriveat the restaurant just a few minutes before six and are greeted as warmly as last time by the hostess. Her eyes go directly to our linked hands, and I don’t miss her eyebrows rising dramatically before she schools her expression.
