Page 40 of The Weight of Your Wishes

I lower my hand to his throat, not wanting to think about that because I want this forever, too. Hell, Ineedhim, but he’ll change his mind. They always do. It sends a pang through my heart.

I grip his throat a bit harder, slamming into his ass more aggressively. His head falls back on my shoulder, and I lower my other hand to his cock. The lace is sagging heavily below his hard dick. I jack him hard and fast, and he shudders against me, trying to thrust forward into my hand and backward on my cock at the same time. I stroke my thumb over the head, and his hips stutter. “I’m gonna c-come,” he rasps. My cock throbs inside of him, balls drawing up tight and ready for release.

His hot cum shoots out from his dick, searing my skin. I push him down on his hands again, and they buckle beneath him, his cheek resting on the ground.

I pull out and quickly rip off the condom. His hole is gaping and twitching open just slightly, so I fill it with my finger as I wrap my hand around my own cock. He groans low and tries to ride my finger. It sends me over the edge. My vision goes black around the edges, and the resounding growl echoes around us as I shoot ropes of cum on his bare ass.

I ease back, gasping for breath, and watch it dissipate in the rain.

A loud thud sounds a few yards to the right, and I turn to see a massive dead limb hit the earth. Hendrix jumps, and my finger slips out of him. “Shit. Let’s go.” I grab his shorts and wallet as he gets up. “Come here.” I hold my arms out to him, and he gets my meaning. I lift him up, his legs wrapping around me instantly as I carry him back to the house, trudging through puddles of water.

“Your fishing pole,” he says urgently.

“It probably fell right off the dock with how bad that wind is,” I tell him as I swing open the back door.

I carry him straight to the bathroom, setting him down. “Sorry,” he mumbles the words, not meeting my eyes as he strips off the heavy sweater.

I grab his face and make him look at me. “It’s not a big deal, boy. Just a fishing pole. I have more.” He works his lower lip between his teeth before nodding his assent. “We need to get at least one hot shower. The power is probably going to cut out.”

We both step in, standing closely under the spray. Dirt slides from his face, hands, and knees, tracking into the drain, and we just look at each other for a long while. It’s like the floodgates within me have been unlocked, and I’m seeing everything I missed. He’s so damn perfect—the kind of perfect that I never thought existed, the kind that makes you okay with anything as long as they’re right there with you. I want to know everything about him, all the things I missed that shaped him into the man he is today. Not only that, but I want to open up more with him than I already have. I know he wants me too, but rehashing my life isn’t something I ever cared to do.

It worries me—these feelings that are so unfamiliar. So, I wrap my arms around his slick body and pull him against me. His skin is warm and firm against my own, and I just want to keep him right here where nothing and no one can ruin this.

“Did you really mean it?” he asks, weighing down his voice. “We’re really gonna do this? Be together?”

Each word lands in my chest like a poison-tipped dart.

“You realize there’s a reason that I’m thirty-nine years old and still alone, right? All my relationships have failed.” I hate to dredge this shit up again, but I can’t be anything less than transparent with him.

“They’re notme. I’m gonna be good enough for you,” he says with conviction, and I almost scoff.

“You already are, Hendrix. Too good. Too perfect. Too everything.”

“Then accept it. You’ll see over time just how different this is—how much we make sense.”

I plant a kiss on his forehead and stare at the tiled wall behind him, vision blurring.

There’s no other choice but to believe him.

CHAPTERFIFTEEN

HENDRIX

Ijolt from my sleep to the loud crack of thunder. It rumbles deep in my bones, sending chills down my spine. I rub at my eyes, willing them to adjust to the inky darkness in Grant’s room. The shutters efficiently block out any light—not that there would be much other than flashes of lightning, anyway.

I glance over at the pillow next to mine and find it empty. Nerves coil in my gut as I get up and leave the room, but he’s right there on his recliner. He’s watching the news intently, even though it’s muted, and music is playing from his radio instead.

“What’s going on with the storm?” I ask as I pad over to him, looking at the weather radar. The hurricane is a massive red and green thing, spiraling along the coast of Florida.

He points to the TV. “Its track changed substantially. Looks like it’s going further north. We’re still getting hit with severe sustained wind and a whole lot of rain from these outer bands though.” He spreads his boxer-clad thighs a little wider, running his fingers through his hair.

Feeling a little curious, I turn around and open the back door to get a peek at the storm. The knob nearly slips from my grasp as a gust of wind tries to slam it open. “Shit,” I hiss. Grant comes up behind me, bracketing one hand on the door frame and the other around my waist. The roaring wind and rain cut through the air so severely that I can barely see the far side of the yard. The taller palm trees look like they might snap in half from the force of it, and it amazes me that they're still standing. The lawn is swamped with water, probably ankle deep at least.

It’s pure chaos.

Another loud crack of thunder nearly makes me leap out of my skin— hell, that might’ve been a tree snapping in half. I can’t even tell anymore.

“Close the door,” Grant says directly into my ear, so I can hear over the storm.

---