Page 43 of The Weight of Your Wishes

His eyes are wide, totally wired from being so busy all night. His hair sticks out in every direction, some strands glued to his forehead with sweat. “It doesn’t matter how far you are. I could never be close enough to you,” he laments.

He’s being dramatic, but my heart still swells in my chest. I know he means it because I’ve wanted to go out there and harass him all night, too, but I don’t know how to handle myself around other people with him.

At home, we’ve been inseparable. No matter what I’m doing, I’d rather be doing it with him right next to me—whether it’s his feet in my lap or my fingers in his hair. He just puts me at ease, levels me out.

I heave a sigh. “Alright. Come here.” I push my chair out from the desk and beckon him with my arms. He grabs the cleaning rag from his shoulder and drops it to the desk before straddling my lap, burying his face in my neck.

He inhales deeply. “God, you always smell so ridiculously good.” He slips his hands under my shirt, rubbing them over my bare skin.

The way he treats me is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. He’s needy and has no problem showing it. He had a tendency to be timid when he was younger, but he’s so unapologetically confident now. It fills me with pride.

He kisses my neck, tenderly at first, until he starts sucking on the skin there. I groan and shift around between his thighs, blood rushing to my cock. “You’re gonna leave a mark, boy.”

He lets the skin pop from his mouth and snickers. “That’s kind of the point, Daddy. Can’t have all the lovely ladies and gents of the world thinking they can have you.” It dawns on me that his dramatics might be rubbing off on me as I stop myself from rolling my eyes. “I want people to know you’re mine, and I want to be able to tell people that I’m yours. It’s so hard to not brag about it.”

I snort a laugh, but the sentiment does resonate with me. Deep down, I know that I want that, too, and I don’t know what’s stopping me. Whatever anyone thinks isn’t my business, and whatever they may say could never be enough to make me turn my back on him.

My door bursts open suddenly. Hendrix shoots off my lap so quickly that he stumbles into my desk. “Shit,” he hisses.

“I fucking knew it!” Sky whisper yells from the door. “You two idiots finally sealed the deal.”

Hendrix scratches the back of his head and grabs his rag off my desk. “Surprise.” He laughs nervously, wide eyes darting towards mine.

I couldn’t care less if Sky knew about us, and I’m not sure why he’d think I would. To make my point clear, I grab his hand as he turns to walk away, pulling him down to press our lips together in a firm kiss. “Love you, baby boy. Now go back to work.” He grins as he pulls away, cheeks pinkened.

Sky’s leaned against my doorframe, smiling like the Cheshire cat. “Was there a good reason for you to come barging in here like that?”

“Nope. Was bored and wondered what was taking so long. Thought I might find somethinginteresting.”

Go figure. I shake my head at the two of them. “Back to work.”

Right before the door closes all the way, Hendrix pops his head back in. “Love you, too, Daddy,” he says quietly. My gaze fixes on his plush lower lip as he pulls it between his teeth—sexy as fucking ever. Sometimes when he teases me this way, I just want to bend him over my lap and smack his ass.

His eyes darken, picking up on the direction of my thoughts. He starts easing back into the room.

“Go,” I tell him, scooting my chair back to the desk. He sighs but listens anyway, shutting the door harder than necessary. My teeth clench hard as the idea of spanking him starts to seem more and more appealing. I bet he would love it, too, what with his obsession with my roughed-up hands.

I groan, long and pained. It’s impossible to focus on anything whenever he’s around, but I manage to finish running through inventory after an hour or so. The whole time, all I can think about is his soft, round ass reddened with my handprint.

I rub my eyes aggressively and pull open the door. I stop at the end of the hallway, leaning against the wall. Sometimes, I just enjoy watching him. He had a lot of trouble getting used to this job at first, but now, it’s like second nature to him. He moves around behind the bar, gracefully pouring drinks and sliding them to customers—smiling brightly and talking to anyone who’ll listen.

He crosses his arms on the bar top and leans in close to a college-aged girl on the other side. She laughs at whatever he says and proceeds to undress him with her eyes. I can’t blame her, really, but that doesn’t assuage the fiery jealousy rising in the pit of my stomach.

I know Hendrix is just playing off his flirty bartender persona, not actually interested in her, but it’s times like these when I want to make it known that he’s withme.So, I cut through the room towards the jukebox, surprised at how many patrons are still here. Closing time’s in an hour or so.

I already know what song I’m going to put on—“Say Hello 2 Heaven” by Temple of the Dog. I’ve had this album on repeat since the hurricane a few days ago. Whenever this track comes on, all I can see is Hendrix’s green eyes, framed by long, dark lashes, his deep red lips curved into a smile, the thick slash of his brows.

Hendrix looks at me curiously from across the room as I approach, sufficiently distracted from the girl in front of him. When I reach him, I grab his hand and guide him from behind the bar to the middle of the room. His eyes widen, brows jumping behind fallen strands of hair as I drop my hands to his narrow hips. “Dance with me,” I whisper into his ear.

His tongue darts across his lips, a questioning look on his pretty face, but he loops his hands behind my neck. Pulling us as close together as I can, we sway back and forth. I’m sure we have the attention of nearly everyone in the bar—especially considering the fact that people don’t usually dance here, but I don’t care. I want them to see.

The song is a slow crescendo. It begins with Chris Cornell crooning the lyrics low and slow, and it builds until he’s belting them with such passion that it’s impossible not to feelsomething.

Hendrix rests his head on my chest, up near my collar bone. I move one hand from his hip to rub his back, unable to keep from touching him all over. “Every time I hear this song, I think of you. The real meaning behind the lyrics is really sad, but it doesn’t make me feel that way. It makes me appreciate that I’m still here—with you. My own heaven. Not everyone lives to see it, but I have.”

He sniffles, burying his face further into my chest. “Do you want to make me cry in front of everyone?”

I bring my arms up to his shoulders and squeeze him to me as tight as possible as tears burn my own eyes. “Will you give me a kiss, baby boy?”

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