Page 34 of Handle with Care
Will’s kissing back—kissing me like he means it. Like he wants it. Like he wantsme. God. His mouth yields or mine does, and he’s warm and close as he wriggles tight against my chest. My heart soars somewhere out of my body, goose bumps covering my arms at this unexpected ecstasy of having Will want me, too, as badly as I want him.
We press together hard, his hands on either side of my head, our kisses increasingly desperate and seeking. They’re deep and clumsy and, as far as I’m concerned, perfect in their rawness. I’m euphoric, encouraging him, thrilled. I shiver. “Yeah, like that?—”
And then, I’m lost to anything but Will.
My fingers dig into his back. He gives this deep sort of desperate moan that does me in, and we’re kissing and kissing, rough and soft at the same time, and I’m aching in my boxers?—
“Wait.” At last, Will breaks free, gasping as he holds himself at arm’s length, looking down at me. “We shouldn’t. I—can’t.”
“Fuck.”I flop onto my back and stare at the ceiling again, reeling from the sudden stop. I’m gasping, failing to breathe again like a normal person, my heart pounding a relentless rhythm in my ears. I regret every single last thing I’ve ever done to deserve such punishment to have something so amazing start and stop as quickly.
It’s probably not undeserved, though. I’ve done other wicked things too.
I turn my head to look at Will. He’s flushed, looking overwhelmed. “You… you’re… so brilliant. And I… I think I’m still… still not feeling well.”
“’Kay. Okay.” That brings me back to reality in a sobering instant. I suck back a deep breath to steady myself.
He said I’m brilliant. Like he actually likes me. Like he actually means it.
Maybe one year, blood will stop flowing to my cock, but at least he hasn’t noticed, or if he has, he’s not mentioned it. Mercifully, we’re not touching.
“I really liked it, though,” he whispers shakily. “So you know.”
Confirmation, then. Holy shit.
I don’t even know what to think or say. Realization dawns that Will—Will—was as eagerly kissing me as I kissed him a few moments ago. That he wantsme.Incredible.
When Will comfortably pillows his head against my shoulder, it’s my turn to put my arm—still covered in goose bumps—over him with care.
Skin to skin. It’s electric, truly.
A sound escapes me, kind of like a whimper. Okay, it’s an actual whimper.
But sexual frustration never killed anyone. Or attraction.
Get a grip.
“What can I do?” I ask softly, into this quiet. I don’t want to ruin the moment. I also don’t want Will to suffer if he’s not feeling well. It doesn’t matter how flustered I am.
What new reality is this? What are the rules?
“Water. Tablets. In a minute. Please, if you don’t mind.” Will glances blearily at me.
“’Kay. Of course.” I gulp air in an attempt to steady myself. “I can do that.”
Shit, it’s not like he can simply hop out of bed and get water. Not without his leg.
Everything’s crashing back, and it’s so much.
And right now, the world’s lying in my arms, and I’ll do everything in my power today to keep him close, keep him well, and keep him safe.
Later, I enjoy an icy shower by choice, and admittedly, I get off during it to relieve some of this built-up tension because there are serious odds of me bursting otherwise. Will’s wearing his leg and boxers when I step out of the bathroom, sitting on the side of the bed.
“All yours,” I say lightly, nodding in the direction of the bathroom, then hover beside Will as he makes a false start in getting up.
He frowns, gripping the edge of the bed, looking pale.
“You want any help?” I try gingerly, not sure if it’s an appropriate question to ask or how he feels about offers of assistance or?—
