Chapter 12

Chapter

Twelve

It’s all sinking in.

I’m waking up in a nice, soft bed, and that sure beats a sleeping bag in an old, dusty, leaky cabin.

Maybe some of my ideas are a little bit crazy.

Thank god Kieran is as stubborn as me, or even more so. I didn’t think that was possible. But there’s a lot about Kieran that seemed impossible until we met.

Just thinking about him, remembering the crazy afternoon we shared, I can’t help but smile. My pulse is suddenly fluttering in my throat, and I feel more awake—alive.

I can hear his quiet breathing nearby, but we’re not touching. And it actually makes my heart sink, just a little bit. Kieran’s so touchy-feely that a secret part of me was hoping that we’d wake up tangled in one another’s arms.

Slowly, so I don’t wake Kieran, I roll over to look at him.

Holy shit. This is so much better than what I imagined last night, while I was drifting off to sleep.

Kieran is beautiful in the morning light.

I mean, he’s beautiful all the time, of course. But right now, I can’t stop staring at the sun’s first rays streaming across his bright pink hair. His pale lashes flutter now and then in sleep, and his full lips are parted slightly. He has the cutest little dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks.

I can’t stop staring. He looks so soft and innocent, yet he captivates me even more without all the layers he puts on in the day.

God, Kieran.

He’s kind, smart, and exactly the right kind of unpredictable. I was already dangerously attracted to him.

But seeing him like this—without the smiles and sunshine—makes something shift inside me. If I had to give the ache a name, I guess I’d call it… yearning. It sounds old-fashioned, but it’s true. And the weirdest part is how good it feels.

A smile crosses my face as I slowly push myself upright a little more.

Kieran’s sleeping on his front, his cheek pressed into the pillow, face turned toward me. One leg is flung out toward me, and the other foot is dangling a little ways off the bed.

And I see his PJs on the end of the bed.

Oh, my. He must have overheated in the night.

I can’t help myself. My gaze traces the length of his bare arm, the curve of his shoulder, the flat plane of his back, the smooth curves down to his lower back, and then back up…

Damn it. The corner of the duvet is draped artfully across his ass, interrupting my view, but it’s probably for the best. If Kieran wakes up and hits on me… I’m not sure if my upstairs brain will have the final say on what happens.

And this morning wood isn’t going to deal with itself.

Before I just keep staring all day, I roll out of bed and grab fresh clothes from my backpack.

I high-tail it for the bathroom, and then I shut the door and lean heavily against it as I draw a deep breath.

The bathroom counter is cluttered with all kinds of product bottles. Kieran has attached strands of fake vines and roses around the edges of the mirror. The shower curtain is a beautiful jade-green, and there’s one plush hand towel, which doesn’t match the bath towels at all.

The vibe in here makes me smile. It’s so peacefully chaotic, if there is such a thing. How very Kieran.

God. What the hell is my life? I met this guy less than a day ago, and I’m already so wrapped up in him.

Everything else in my life is in a state of upheaval. I should be taking it slow, and all I want to do is slam my foot on the gas.

I strip out of my PJs. It takes an extra moment to tug the waistband over the hard-on that springs free, gently smacking against my stomach.

That says it all, doesn’t it?

“Fine,” I breathe out, closing my eyes. I wrap my hand around myself and let myself think about Kieran, naked and nestled into the sheets, moaning underneath me.

What’s life without a little fantasy?

If I’d just rolled over in bed, slid an arm around him, I could just imagine him turning onto his side so his ass nestles perfectly against my thighs. The soft moan in his throat as he feels my hard-on… the delicate fingers threaded between mine, as he wraps my arm around his chest…

The tightness of my fingers becomes the squeeze of Kieran’s thighs. With every jerk and twist, sweat beads on my forehead and my belly goes all tight and dizzyingly hot.

Fuck. Oh, god, Kieran’s so fucking hot, and he knows it.

All he has to do is tilt his head to the side and I can press open-mouthed kisses down the side of his neck. I’ll moan his name into his shoulder as my arm goes tight around him, crushing his back against my chest as I reach down to stroke him, too.

God. How much I want to make him feel glorious. I want to let myself have my way with him just like he’s been begging me to, until we’re both covered in my sweat and lost in this shared pleasure.

Fuck. I’m going to… oh, fuck!

“Nnngh!” I arch and push away from the door. It’s all I can do not to cry out Kieran’s name as I cup my other hand around the head to contain the mess.

And what a mess it is.

As the seconds settle back into their normal rhythm, I’m left sprawling against the door with all my fingers covered in sticky warmth, and an equally warm dizzy pleasure flooding my veins.

I roll my head to look at myself in the mirror, and I’m… I’m actually smiling.

Who is that guy in the mirror?

It barely looks like me. I mean, I’m not in my middle school emo phase anymore. But I’m more grumpy than sunshine by nature. I’ve never really smiled for photos, and I don’t really have a mirror to see myself when I’m caught up in fun moments.

I have the feeling I’m going to see this version of myself a lot more often now.

It doesn’t take long to get dressed. The first place I head is the kitchen sink—and the mountain of dishes.

I helped out in big farm kitchens during my gap year. It’s not daunting for me. And it gives me a few minutes of thinking time so I can try to figure out what all those fantasies about Kieran might mean.

And what I want them to mean.

We’re obviously into each other. And my intentions are… pretty damn far from pure.

I don’t just want to admire him from afar, like a sculpture trapped behind museum glass. I want to know all the living, breathing, growing parts of him. I want to run my hands across his body so I can make sense of him, and I want to press my lips against every single thing I find.

Even the parts of him that he won’t let me see yet. Especially those parts.

If I have to take it slow before Kieran trusts me enough to share his sadnesses as well as his joy, that’s fine. I can be patient. In the meantime, I’ll keep letting him draw out the new parts of me I’ve never known before.

I just hope Kieran wants them.