His Steady Heart

by Nell Iris

  We must have dozed off at some point, because I wake up to the Netflix home screen and I have a snuffling Pippin sleeping on top of me. Carefully, I grab the remote from the coffee table and turn off the TV.

  I consider for a moment to go back to sleep, but no matter how comfy my couch is, it’s too small for us both to sleep on.

  “Hey, darlin’,” I whisper.

  “Mmm.”

  “We fell asleep. We should go to bed.”

  He grabs my upper arm in a steely grip. “I don’t want you to go,” he mumbles, barely awake.

  I don’t want to let him go either, so I draw a deep breath and jump. “Wanna sleep in my bed tonight?”

  “Yeah,” he rasps.

  “You sure?”

  “Very sure.” His hand finds its way under my hoodie. “I consent so much your ma wouldn’t have any complaints.”

  With a broad smile, I take him at his word and carefully nudge him off me. I ignore the mess on the coffee table—even though I know I’ll regret it tomorrow—grab him by the hand, and lead him into my room.

  He crawls into my bed without getting undressed. I take off the hoodie and put on an old T-shirt, then join him. He backs into my arms, and we fall to sleep curled around each other.

  Chapter 10

  It’s still dark outside when I wake up. And cold, if the frost blossoms on the window is anything to go by. But in here, it’s nice and toasty.

  Under the covers, curled around a still-sleeping Pippin, I’m warm from the inside out, as though my heart is glowing in my chest.

  Our legs are still tangled. My arm is slung around his waist and he’s holding my hand in a steady grip. His back is glued to my front and his ass is pressed against my groin. My groin and my morning wood. I try to shuffle back so I won’t poke him in his sleep, but he whines a protest and follows me.

  “Darlin’, I—” I whisper.

  “It’s okay.” It’s little more than a mumble, and he sounds adorably sleepy.

  “If you’re sure.”

  He replies by scooting even closer, and I bury my face in the back of his neck and inhale. His breath stutters when I rub my nose against his skin. “Tickles. Beard tickles.”

  I smile and continue what I’m doing, making sure my beard touches him as much as possible.

  “Ashleyyyy…”

  “Yes?” I’m going for innocent, but his huff tells me I’m not successful. I brush a kiss at his nape, and another one just above it, and another one just above that one. “This okay?”

  He groans and wiggles in my arms until we’re facing each other. He flings his leg over my thigh and presses his groin against mine.

  I gasp.

  He’s as hard as I am, and my hips involuntarily hump against his. “Sorry,” I say when I’ve regained control over myself.

  “Don’t be.” He pushes his pelvis against mine, and our cocks grind against each other through several layers of clothing. Goosebumps erupt along my spine, and I pull up the back of his sweatshirt and lay my palm against his warm skin.

  He moans and the quiet sound goes directly to my balls, but a prickle in the back of my head tells me to slow down.

  With a press of my hand, I still his slow grinding and twist my hips a little to remove myself from the temptation. “No, darlin’,” I whisper and kiss his forehead.

  His grip on me tightens, both arm and leg. “Why?”

  “You’re barely awake and you should be fully conscious the first time you do somethin’ like this.”

  He sighs, but presses his lips against my skin in the junction between my neck and shoulder. He hums, his lips vibrating against me. “You’re too good to be true, Ashley.”

  “Nah, I’m just doin’ the right thing.”

  He moves his head so he can look at me. His eyes are flowing over with warmth and a sleepy smile plays on his mouth. “Good morning.”

  “Mmm.”

  “How strict are the rules about kissing with morning breath in your house? Yuck or yay?”

  My answer is a soft press of my lips against his. “As long as there’s no tongue involved, it’s okay.” I wink.

  He giggles and pushes me until I lay on my back. Then he cuddles up in the crook of my neck with a happy sigh. “We’ll have to wait a little, then. I’m far too comfy to get out of bed right now.”

  Me, too. I could quit my job so I’d never have to get up again.

  So we lay there, not really sleeping but not awake either. His hand rests under my T-shirt on my belly, and from time to time he runs his fingers through my fur, humming.

  I kiss him wherever I can reach. On the top of his head. His forehead. His temple. I can’t get enough of him and stay hard the entire time, but I’m happy lying there with him, fully clothed, sharing innocent touches.

  Then something buzzes against my lower back, and I furrow my eyebrows, trying to understand what’s happening. “What the…?” I mutter when whatever it is buzzes again, and I move a little so I can grab the offending object.

  “What ‘cha doing?” Pippin cracks one eye open.

  My fingers envelope a phone. “I was lyin’ on this.” I hold it up. It’s Pippin’s.

  “Oh. It must have fallen out of my pocket.” He takes it from me, glances at the screen, and frowns. “It’s Mom.” He throws the phone on the bed behind him. “I’ll answer her later.”

  “Okay.”

  But Crystal Olander is eager to get ahold of her son, and the darned thing buzzes with one text after the other.

  “Whyyy?” he groans.

  “Maybe her house is on fire?” I joke, knowing it isn’t because I’d see the flames from the window.

  “If it was, I hope she’d be smart enough to call for help instead of texting.”

  “True.”

  Just as I close my eyes—as though she heard us—the phone rings.

  “Oh, my God,” he hisses as he feels around for the phone. When he finds it, he stabs the screen. “Yes?”

  I can hear his mom’s voice—she sounds excited—but I can’t make out the words.

  “Now? But I’m asleep,” he says, voice full of annoyance.

  Carefully, I free my arm, kiss his cheek, and point to the bathroom when he raises an eyebrow at me. I want to give him some privacy.

  After peeing and brushing my teeth, I rejoin him, ready to head to the kitchen if he’s still on the phone. But he isn’t. He’s gotten out of bed, peeling off the clothes he slept in and putting on fresh garments, scowling.

  “Is somethin’ wrong?”

  “I don’t know,” he huffs. “She wouldn’t say on the phone. Said this kind of news needs to be delivered face to face. But…” He pauses as he pulls a long-sleeved T-shirt over his head. “She didn’t sound like she usually does when she needs money for something, so there’s that.”

  I nod.

  “I won’t be long. Don’t start breakfast without me.” He disappears into the bathroom.

  “I won’t.” As he’s taking care of business in the bathroom, I walk out of the bedroom and start cleaning the mess we left behind yesterday. When he enters the kitchen, I’m standing by the sink, doing dishes.

  He turns off the water and hands me a towel and doesn’t take his eyes off me as I dry my hands. When I’m done, he throws his arms around my neck as he blows a breath in my face. “See? Minty fresh!” He grins.

  “Is this your way of asking for a kiss?”

  I grab his waist and look at his mouth. Slowly, he licks his lips. “Mhm.” He flutters his eyelashes.

  “Ask nicely.”

  He cups my cheeks, looks me right in the eyes, and says, “Shut up and kiss me or I’ll call you ‘Daddy.’”

  “Imp,” I growl, but do what he asks. I swoop down and claim his mouth, and the earlier sweetness is replaced by heat and enthusiasm and impatience. When I lick the seam of his mouth, he opens eagerly and his tongue invades my mouth.

  Our kiss is hot and wet and sloppy, and stars dance before my eyes. My grip on his waist ha
rdens, and he pushes his pelvis into mine.

  When he pulls back, we’re both panting, and I have to lock my knees so I won’t crumble into a boneless heap on the floor.

  “Hold that thought.” He lets go of me, and walks out of my house, leaving me behind with a raging hard-on, trying to make coffee with trembling hands and a racing heart.

  * * * *

  He’s gone longer than expected. I clean the living room until it’s spotless, and change the sheets. When my stomach starts complaining, I scarf down an apple, and when he’s not back after almost two hours, I pour the last of the coffee in my cup and take up watch by the kitchen window.

  The sun is up, melting the snow, making water drip from the trees. Somewhere a bird chirps and a neighbor walks by with his dog on the street.

  It’s a quiet morning, the kind that would best be spent in bed, cuddling with someone warm. But there’ll be more opportunities, I’m sure.

  When I clean out the coffee machine, the door to Pippin’s house is flung open and he exits and slams it shut with such force, I fear the house will collapse into a pile of rubble. He marches across the lawn, looking like a thundercloud. He speeds up and jogs the last bit.

  He’s not as violent with my door as he was with his mom’s, but his steps are heavy and angry. When he passes by the kitchen, he pauses. “I’m mad as hell, Ashley. I’ll tell you all about it later, but right now I need to blow off some steam.”

  He walks away, the closet door opens and shuts, then he disappears into the bathroom. I grab a glass of water and sit on the couch.

  A couple minutes later, he comes out of the bathroom dressed in his work-out clothes. He tosses his phone on the coffee table and stands next to me. “I’m going for a run. I’ll be back soon.” He chews on his lip, and for a second, it looks like he’s going to kiss me, but instead, he tugs lightly on my beard, gives me a tight smile, and turns to leave.

  “Stop.” I grab his phone and get to my feet. “Don’t leave without this. Turn off the volume if you don’t wanna be disturbed, but take it with you in case somethin’ happens.” I stuff it into his pocket and step away.

  His eyes shine with gratitude. “Thank you.”

  “Anytime. I’ll be here when you get back.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  Chapter 11

  Pippin’s temper is gone by the time he gets home. I’ve had time to lift weights and prepare lunch; a big pot of chicken soup is simmering away on the stove. I’m on the couch, catching up with my favorite YouTube channels and doing research on chickens, when Pippin gets back.

  He tosses a newspaper on the coffee table. “I’m not kissing you. I’m a sweaty pig.” He flashes a grin at me and I’m glad to see my happy Pippin back.

  “Go shower. Lunch is ready when you’re done.”

  Ten minutes later, we’re eating in front of the computer; I’ve managed to get Pippin hooked on some of the homesteading channels, too.

  He gulps the soup as though he hasn’t had a decent meal in weeks and doesn’t slow down until he’s devoured half the bowl. We eat in silence, except for the occasional appreciative noise from him.

  When he’s full, he sets down the bowl, leans back, and takes my hand. “Thank you. I really needed that.”

  “I’m glad you liked it. There’s more. I made the whole pot.”

  He pats his belly. “Not now. But maybe for dinner?” He insists on cleaning up after the meal and hands me a cup of coffee when he’s done.

  We still don’t speak. I’m close to bursting with curiosity over what happened with his mom, but I won’t ask. It’s better to let him talk when he’s good and ready.

  After a few minutes, he picks up the forgotten paper and checks out the ads. He scans through the pages and a frown appears on his face, deepening into a scowl the more he reads. Then he folds it and puts it away with choppy movements.

  “Crap,” he mumbles.

  I lay my arm on the back of the couch. “Come here.”

  He cuddles close, but he’s tense and doesn’t melt into me like he usually does. I can almost hear the gears turning in his brain, and lean my cheek on top of his head, caressing his upper arm, trying to use my body to get him to relax.

  Tell me what happened. The thought almost falls off my tongue, but I swallow it, determined to wait him out.

  When my “watch later” playlist on YouTube is empty, I close the laptop and a thick silence takes over the house. I never stop touching him, hoping he understands my silent support, and gradually he relaxes.

  “Why aren’t you asking me what’s going on?” he asks eventually.

  “Because I figure you’ll tell me when you’re ready.”

  He sighs deeply and frees himself from my grip. Straddling my lap—his ass resting on my thighs—he drapes his arms around my neck. “How are you so great?”

  His question makes me wanna squirm as heat creeps up my neck. “I’m nothin’ special.”

  “Don’t say that. You’re the most supportive and understanding and sweetest guy in the world, Ashley. And don’t contradict me.”

  I grin. “No, sir.”

  He chuckles and pushes me down, and soon we’re lying in the same position as yesterday, me on my back and he on top of me. He tucks his head into the nook of my neck. My hands wander up and down his back, never venturing below the belt.

  “I wish I could stay here forever,” he says.

  You can, I want to say, but keep my mouth shut.

  “Mom is getting married.”

  I grow stiff as a steel pipe and my brain stops working. Married? Crystal Olander is getting married? “Did you just say…?”

  He nods against my chest. “I did. I did not see that coming.”

  My head is still empty, and I struggle to find words. “Uh. Congratulations?”

  “Yeah, not so much. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for her. But her communication skills are severely lacking.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Apparently they decided a while back they’d get married, but they didn’t tell me until now.”

  “Why?”

  “They wanted to tell me all the good news at once. They’re getting married, they’ve just sold the house, and Mom is pregnant. Triple whammy.”

  My mouth falls open. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Neither did I.”

  “So you’re gonna be a big brother, huh?”

  “I guess.” He shakes his head. “Can I tell you something without you judging me?”

  “‘Course.”

  “Mom has never really felt like a real mother. I can’t be excited for the baby; I don’t want another kid to have to grow up like I did. She’s not exactly mother-of-the-year material and I doubt she’ll be very maternal toward the new baby either. I hope I’m wrong. I hope this is what she wants and that she’ll settle down finally.”

  “She’s an adult now. And this time she won’t be alone,” I say, wondering why the heck I’m defending her.

  “Yeah, but Richard isn’t exactly a warm person either. I don’t know, Ashley, maybe I’ll be happy about it tomorrow, but I haven’t got it in me today.”

  “Fair enough.”

  He cuddles closer, burying his nose in my shoulder and inhales. My hands wander along with my thoughts, until I realized what else he said. I frown. “Did you say they’ve sold the house?”

  “Yes.”

  “Without tellin’ you?”

  “Well you know…” He draws a deep breath and pitches his voice in an eerie imitation of his mom. “I thought you’d moved out already, Pip.”

  “Seriously?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe she was trying to be funny?” But he doesn’t sound like he believes it. His voice is weary and resigned and I don’t blame him. That’s a lot to take in in a day.

  I furrow my eyebrows. “I haven’t seen a ‘for sale’ sign?”

  “Apparently some friend of Richard’s bought it. They wanted to get rid
of it quickly and move on with their lives.”

  “Oh.” Then it hits me. “Does that mean you’re movin’?” The thought of not living next door to Pippin anymore makes me cold all the way into my bones.

  He nods.

  “You…uh…movin’ in with them? Where does he live?”

  “No. You see, Richard doesn’t want her grown-up kid in his house. ‘You’re an adult,’ she said, ‘and can take care of yourself.’” His words drip with bitterness.

  I clamp my jaw shut so I won’t mutter the words that roar in my head—selfish, thoughtless bitch!—and I focus on caressing his back in slow, even strokes.

  Up.

  Down.

  Don’t blurt what you’re thinking, Buck.

  Up.

  Down.

  “Whatcha gonna do?”

  “Find somewhere to live.” He points to the table. “I checked the newspaper but couldn’t find anything I can afford. And I’ll have to use some of my savings for the deposit. I guess this means my college plans are on hold for now, huh?”

  My pulse roars in my ears. “Move in with me.”

  I want to scream; I wasn’t going to say that. I know it’s the wrong thing to say, but I can’t stop my mouth from blabbering. “You can live here. That way you don’t have to put your dreams on hold. And I’m not expectin’ anythin’. I’ll move the gym out of the guest room and buy a bed so you can get some privacy.” I know I’m rambling, but if I don’t get everything out now, I won’t have a chance. He’ll give me a long list of reasons why this is a terrible idea. “I know you want to stand on your own feet and take care of yourself, but I’ll let you pay rent if you like. It’ll still be a lot cheaper than anythin’ you’ll find out there.” I have to breathe and swallow, and when I finally shut up, he’s stiff in my arms.

  “No,” he says, and in that simple, two-letter word I can hear a ton of steel. His reaction isn’t unexpected. Convincing him of something takes a lot of cajoling and patience, and not even that is enough all the time. Especially not when it’s this big.

  But I’m not smart enough to keep my mouth shut. “Please Pippin, hear me out…”

  He wiggles out of my arms and slides off me, standing next to the couch. “No. I don’t need your charity, Ashley. I can take care of myself. I’ll find a roommate if I have to.”