by JC Wallace
“What are you afraid of?” I asked.
That seemed to stump him. “Why do you think I’m afraid?”
I laid my hand on his forearms, but he didn’t release me. “I can see it in your eyes.”
His brow creased, and he shook me slightly. “Because I don’t want to lose you.”
“You don’t? But you left, wouldn’t talk to me, you wouldn’t even email me. I had to come and find you.” I should have been pissed… But that was the old Paul. This Paul was seriously stunned.
He rolled his eyes and actually smiled. “I couldn’t just come running back. You would have seen me as weak and needy. Yeah, I was fucking hurt by what you said, and embarrassed, because I thought that I had been so wrong about you— for all of about two hours. But I knew who you were when I came into this… whatever this is, and I can take it.”
“No, don’t you see? You shouldn’t have to take it. You shouldn’t be taking table scraps from me when you’re serving me prime rib.”
He laughed. “Oh God, that’s one of the worst analogies I’ve ever heard.”
The lightness in his eyes was back, and I knew I would give my dying breath to keep it there. Then I frowned. “Shit.”
“What’s wrong, babe?”
I grinned, my stomach feeling all wonky. He raised a questioning brow.
“You called me ‘babe.’”
He ducked his head and blushed a beautiful shade of red. I tilted his chin up, and he met my gaze. I ran my thumb over his cheek. “I love it. And what I was thinking is that you still want me and I’m going to fuck it up again. And then I thought maybe that’s not what you meant and I’m only hearing something I want to hear.”
He smiled gently. “I’m saying that, I don’t want this to end between us. I know things aren’t going to be all roses and fucking all of the time. I mean, you say you’re going to mess up, but I will too. I tend to be a little too needy and clingy after what happened in Bogotá.” He paused and narrowed his eyes. “You don’t have a wife and kids somewhere that I don’t know about, do you?”
I raised my hand. “I swear I don’t.”
He released my arms and then wrapped his around me, our foreheads touching. His eyes glittered in the sun, a perfect jewel tone. “Then I’m in. And messing up, hey, I’m counting on that.” Then he whispered into my ear, “Makeup sex.”
“I have a long way to go, you know? I’m pretty messed up.” That psychologist I was going to see in a few days had no clue what he was getting himself into.
“Again, nothing I can’t handle. I heard you dropped the case against Clyde.”
“I did. You were right. I didn’t know him or what he was going through. I’m thinking I need to get better at that. And I kind of suck at it.”
“But it’s a step in the right direction.”
He pressed his lips to mine before I could utter another word. The kiss was languid, an exploration, and I felt as if it were truly our first kiss. When he released my lips, the lust-filled gaze told me that makeup sex was coming soon.
“Anything else you’d like to divulge, counselor?” His voice was sultry, the words drawn out and teasing.
And even though his lips were begging to be kissed, I looked into his eyes. Amber eyes. I knew right there, I could do whatever I needed for him. “I won everything the day you walked back into my life.” And that was all I needed.
The End
Author Bio
Jake “JC” Wallace started writing from a young age, but took a break for marriage, kids, and college (in that order). A few years ago, he rediscovered his passion and ventured out into the brave new world of publishing. He now has several novels and short stories published. At night and on the weekends, Jake writes about all things men, believing there is nothing hotter than two men finding and loving one another, whether for a night or forever. An avid reader of M/M romance, Jake loves a good twist of a plot, HEA, HFN, or tragic ending. He also writes what his bestie calls HUNK (Happy Until the Next Kidnapping). In his daytime hours, Jake works with individuals with autism and behavior problems. He is owned by a beautiful partner, three kids, two grandchildren, two dogs, and one cat. He lives in the Adirondack Mountains in Northern NY.
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