“Yes.”
“Damn you,” he whispers. “Goddamnyou.”
“I know,” I choke. “I’m sorry.”
I’m so heavy and hard, and I would swear he’s fucking me like nobody has, confusion and anger and grief and love buried inside me again and again. He’s leaving more of himself behind each minute he keeps going, and I’m grateful for anything that can become mine.
“We promised,” Jake says.
You know I’m not looking for the love of my life.
None of the men who fuck me are.
“We did.”
He lets go of my dick and finds my hand, but then we’re jerking me off together, and his rhythm is faltering. There’s so little left to say if neither of us is ready to call this what it is, and I think my voice would fail me either way. A teardrop trips sideways over the bridge of my nose and my chest is tight and my throat is closing around everything, but I’m sure I can keep all of that to myself too, right up until I realize I’m not alone.
I feel Jake’s tears on my neck and my ear, and then finally on my own face when I turn toward him. The sob I can't swallow is mostly caught by his open mouth, but an actual kiss never quite happens when we’re busy loving each other without a single fucking word. However far gone he and I are, our bodies don’t slow—maybe we’re even moving faster now—this primal connection refusing to be overthrown by the emotion that wants so badly to take control. The grip we have on my cock is relentless, but it’s Jake who comes first, everything about it both loud and fragile. It’s probably the knowledge of what he’s done that pushes me over the edge just seconds later, and our fingers are coveredin the mess I’ve made long before either of us stops stroking.
That we can keep moving through it is soothing in a way I won’t attempt to explain.
“Darren.”
I crack an eye open and close it again when the sunshine strikes.
“Darren, wake up.”
It’s morning. Jake’s sitting up in bed next to me. My heart soars because he’s still here. My hand pulls a pillow over my head because I want to keep sleeping.
“Beau keeps calling you. Judging from the texts he sentme, there’s a bit of a kid on Christmas morning thing happening, but I don’t think it would be a great idea for me to answeryourphone to calm him down.”
“He already knows everything,” I mumble.
“Everything?”
I push the pillow toward the headboard and open both eyes this time, and it’s only the view that makes it worth the effort. Jake is wide awake, his glasses perched on his nose as he does a crossword puzzle like the handsome nerd he is. He taps his pen against the page a few times and sorta kinda tries to glare at me, even if it’s mostly probably not working all that well. But then I hear his question again and think he must want to know ifeverything meanseverything, except that every memory ofeverythingrushes back and makes me dizzy, and I really should go back to sleep, morning wood and all.
Jake stayed, though. He damned me, and we cried, but he stayed.
“Okay, you’re right,” I sigh. “There’s no need for him to know I’m with you at whatever ungodly hour this is.”
“It’s 9:30.”
“Exactly.” He sets my phone down in the space between us, and it’s the first I realize he must’ve gone downstairs to fetch it at some point. I spot his coffee mug next, and then I push enough of the covers away to see the waistband of boxers he probably put on hours ago. I’m certainly not upset that he didn’t literally stay in bed all morning, but I don’t miss his choice to keep from getting any closer, and my blurry eyes lock with his perfectly clear ones. “You’re about to get up and get ready for work, aren’t you?”
“You’re awake and have a phone call to make. I figure going to the hospital sooner means I’ll also get home sooner, and just in case Lucy arrives a little early—”
“Right. Definitely wouldn’t want her to catch your friend here without you.”
Jake’s nostrils flare. “It’s not like that, and you know it.”
“Do I?”
“Call Beau. Spend some time with him today if it’ll help either of you,” he says, setting the crossword aside and climbing out of bed. He puts his hands on his hips andlooks down at me, a smile and a frown at war. “I’m going to handle everything at the hospital and grab any last-minute party stuff on the way home, so text me if you think of something. And then we’ll talk later?”
I nod. I’m not sure what else I can do.
He closes the door to the bathroom while he showers, either to mute the sound of the water or because he needs that barrier. I call Beau and give him shit for bothering me so early, but his enthusiasm has always been contagious, and I’d missed it in the months before he met Adrian. Now that he’s in loveandin party mode? I can’t possibly stay annoyed for long.