Page 35 of The Trust
I tap his arm that’s still across my midsection, but instead of giving me access to him, he turns into my side and wraps himself around me.
The shorts I asked him to wear in case he wandered out into the halls at night suddenly piss me off. The barrier too much.
I want to feel his skin on mine, his muscles curling around me, his heat and his love.
I need it.
“Are you going to fall back to sleep?” I ask as I curl the fingers of my free hand around his waistband.
He snorts but shakes his head against my pec.
I jostle him around as I push the shorts down his legs and sigh when he kicks them free, and I can feel his skin on mine. The hair on his legs tickles me. The thickness of his cock resting on my hip.
His chest, all inked and hard muscles, lays half over mine as he tucks his head until his ear rests right over my heart.
Shoving a hand and my nose into his hair, I inhale deep enough that his head shifts and his cheek bunches up.
He’s my sweet campfire, forever burning, lighting the way and keeping me warm in the process.
“Te amo, mi Vida.”
His hum reverberates through my pec and settles in around the organ pumping just below the surface.
“Love you, too, Tyro,” he mumbles, his body sinking deeper into mine.
When his breathing evens out, I want to curse myself for taking his shorts, but I can’t.
Because I can feel him from my knees to my nose and I’ll nevernotwant that.
Fuck, I’m so damn gone for this man that I’d follow his naked ass right out into traffic if he asked me to. If he needed me to, whether I was dressed or not.
The serenity of the dark, early morning feels so peaceful, so soothing as Mac’s soft snores fill the space with his energy, his life, his presence, and it’s almost impossible to remember a time when I thought he’d never be here. A time when I was convinced that here is where I’d end up, alone and missing him, for the rest of my life.
But now … there’s enough mugs in the cabinet that they need stacked in order to let the door close. My underwear drawer, once only half full of plain black boxers, now bursts at the seams with different patterns that belong to Mac. Colorful and full of life.
And if I looked around, I’d probably find a pair of his shoes in the middle of the floor where he stepped out of them and made himself right at home.
I love that I never even had to ask him to move in. He just … showed up as himself and slowly brought pieces of himself back here like he was coming home.
I guess I did the same thing at his place all those years ago as his bodyguard. But to me, that was different. To me, it was like my subconscious was leaving a trail of crumbs right in front of him, hoping one day he’d pick them all up and I’d be whole again.
I’ve never felt more whole than I do right now.
A pattering of toe beans tapping along the hardwood sounds before the pillow shifts and a ball of fur lands next to my head. Cookie circles around the spot, then steps onto my chest and squeezes herself between Mac’s head and my chin.
I huff, but smile.
“Hey, Monster,” I murmur and run my fingers through her fur.
Her little arms stretch out and start flexing, toes curling in Mac’s hair.
My eyes burn and my chest feels like it might burst with how much love fills it.
A low hum has me blinking in the dark.
And when I glance over to see the light coming from the nightstand on my side, I detangle my fingers from Mac’s hair and reach for it.
It’s a stretch, but I finally get the device in hand before it cuts off and starts vibrating again.
