Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

BEAN

Frotting was fun. More than I had expected, actually. When Creek had first mentioned it, I hadn’t seen the appeal. What was arousing about coming in your pants? It had sounded messy and juvenile—not that I’d ever come in my pants as a teenager.

Holy mackerel, no. I was way too scared of my mother discovering the evidence. She’d found stains in my bed sheets a few times, which had led to an hour-long sermon from my father about the dangers of masturbation. Now, there was a word I’d never wanted to hear out of his mouth. That hour had felt like a day, no kidding.

But then Jarek had rolled on top of me and looked straight at me as he’d rutted against me. My eyes had crossed, then rolled back, and I may have made some embarrassingly loud sounds. Finally—because that man knew how to drive me insane—I had exploded, and son of a nutcracker, that really had been the best thing ever.

Still messy, but Jarek had thrown my underwear in the washing machine, lending me a pair of his. So now I was parading around—his words—in his underwear, showing off my body. Also, his words.

Somehow, he truly adored me, including my body, and I had no clue how that had happened. Sure, I wasn’t ugly. I knew that much. And I was still in excellent physical shape, but I also had scars from the blast, and I wasn’t all that special. He seemed to feel differently, and who was I to rob him of his illusions? Even if they weren’t based on any facts.

“The dryer needs about forty-five minutes,” Jarek said. He’d just thrown the laundry from the washer into the dryer.

I checked the time, then winced. That was pretty damn late to still be driving home.

“If that’s too late, you can borrow some pants from me as well,” Jarek offered. “Or…”

I quirked an eyebrow. “Or…?”

“Or you could spend the night here.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Isn’t that…?”

“Against the rules? You’re awfully hung up on rules, sunshine.”

I let out a sigh. “Yeah, but with reasons. In the Army, rules kept us alive, and if that dipshit who caused the accident that injured me had followed them, I wouldn’t be in this position.”

Jarek’s eyes widened. “I’ve never heard you use a word like that before.”

Of course he’d noticed. “That’s because I don’t curse…except when I’m with the others.”

“And by the others, you mean Nash and…”

I was touched that he remembered Nash’s name. “Tameron and Creek. You met Creek’s boyfriend at the beach, Heath.”

“The surfer.”

He deserved points for not saying “the surfer with one leg” or something similar, which most people would’ve probably blurted out without thinking. “Yep.”

“So why do you curse with them and not anywhere else?”

“Because my father beat me with his belt when he heard me curse as a teenager, and after that, I never did it again. I can’t, and I mean physically can’t. Somehow, with the others, that barrier has disappeared. Maybe because they literally drop the F-bomb in every other sentence, so I’ve become desensitized. But anywhere else, I can’t. The only reason I said it now is because that’s what Creek always calls him. The dipshit who caused the accident. Though, he didn’t start calling it an accident until recently because he blamed the guy. Not without reason, but it took him a while to move past that.”

Jarek had an expressive face. While I talked, emotions flashed over his face, ranging from shock at my father beating me to compassion and now understanding. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“For what?”

“For all of it. Parents should never hit their kids with a belt. That guy should’ve done his job, and you shouldn’t have this injury.”

I couldn’t disagree. “I try not to dwell on it too much. Bitterness is right around the corner, and I don’t want to be that person.”

“You said that before, and?—”

“Sorry. I tend to repeat myself because I don’t remember.”

“—and I think that’s a very powerful statement. I think a lot of people would have been bitter had they been in your shoes, and the fact that you’re so dead set against it speaks to your character.”

Oh, he hadn’t meant it as criticism then. “Thank you.”

“But let’s get back to the original topic, where I cordially invited you to spend the night in my humble abode.”

I snorted. Jarek had such a dry sense of humor. “In your humble abode or in your bed?”

“Either, but preferably the latter?”

“I agree. The latter is much more appealing.”

He stepped closer, a smile playing on his lips. “Yeah?”

I nodded. “It’s not on my list, but it should have been. I’ve never shared a bed with another man.”

He cupped my cheek and brushed a featherlight kiss over my lips. “I’m honored to be your first.”

I fired off a quick text to Nash.

Spending the night at Jarek’s.

His reply was instant, which told me he’d been waiting for me to text.

Have fun and be safe. Don’t forget to take your meds.

Classic Nash to be worried about that, though not without reason. Because of my crappy memory, I relied on routines, and staying with Jarek was definitely not a part of my usual routine.

I counted out my meds, then checked them off in my meds tracker. My whole life was caught up in lists, but if that was what I needed to function, then I’d make all the lists and check them all off one by one. And I never went anywhere without my backpack, which always had my meds in it.

Preparing for bed in someone else’s house was a whole new experience. Jarek had a toothbrush for me, so we brushed our teeth together, standing side by side in his small bathroom. It somehow felt intimate, maybe even more than, say, kissing, though I couldn’t explain why.

When he padded over to the toilet to pee, I rushed out, and his chuckle followed me. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before!” he called after me.

If my cheeks were as red as they felt, I had to be close to crimson. Cardinal red, like the birds in my parents’ backyard.

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” Jarek said when he stepped back into the bedroom. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t. I mean, I was, but that wasn’t on you. I still struggle with…” I made a vague gesture, then sighed. “Basically everything having to do with sex or even being naked.”

“I take it your religious upbringing is the reason for that?”

“Yeah. Isn’t it funny how so many years later, I still need to break free from those patterns?”

Jarek slid under the covers, then held them open for me, and with relief, I snuggled close to him. His duvet was wonderfully light and fluffy and not too warm. He wrapped his arm around me and gently tugged until I put my head on his shoulder.

“In some aspects, it’s more conditioning than upbringing, I think.”

I let that sink in. “You’re not wrong. I have a strong visceral reaction to doing or saying something I wasn’t allowed to as a child. Like I can feel the pain associated with it.”

“Exactly.” He kissed the top of my head. “I like having you in my bed.”

It was a blatant change of subject, but I suspected he’d done it for me, and my chest filled with warmth. Jarek was so kind, so soft inside. I’d gotten lucky with him. “I like being in your bed.”

We snuggled for a while, and my blinks became longer and slower. The last thing I remembered was him holding me tight and whispering, “Sleep well, sunshine.”

I slept like the dead. When I woke up, Jarek was still beside me, quietly reading on his Kindle. “Morning, gorgeous. Did you sleep well?”

I stretched, yawning. “Like a baby. What time is it?”

“Eight. Do you need to be anywhere?”

“Not until two. I have a late shift today.”

“Good. Then I can make you breakfast.”

He leaned in for a kiss. I hesitated for a moment because, hello, morning breath, but then gave in. If he didn’t care, neither would I. The first touch was gentle, tender, but when our tongues met, I let out a little moan. Jarek’s Kindle dropped from his hand and he rolled on top of me. Being pinned down by a man was a sensation I still wasn’t used to, and on some level, I hoped I never would be.

“Mmm, you taste so good, sweet thing. Addictive,” he whispered before surging into my mouth again.

I closed my eyes and let him sweep me away, clinging to his biceps like a life raft. Kissing this man was…phenomenal. Amazing. Everything I never thought kissing could be like.

It didn’t even register with me that my morning wood had hardened and I was rubbing myself against him until he looked at me with darkened eyes and a sexy little smile. “Wanna practice frotting some more?”

Did he really think I’d say no to that?

It didn’t take long this time, and we came simultaneously, our happy moans mingling. “Why don’t you go take a shower and I’ll make breakfast,” Jarek said, and I nodded. “There’s towels and washcloths in the cupboard under the sink in the bathroom.”

When I came back down after a quick shower—I still wasn’t used to being able to take my time showering—Jarek was in the kitchen, making an…

I frowned as I studied the indeterminable yellowish blob in the skillet. What the everloving flying fish was that? “What are you making?” I asked in what I hoped was a casual tone.

“An omelet. Come sit, it’s almost done.”

An omelet? That was not an omelet. What it was exactly, I wasn’t sure, but it didn’t even remotely come close to what an omelet was supposed to look like.

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. Maybe I should taste it first. Heaven knew I’d produced some meals that had been anything but appetizing in terms of looks but had been perfectly edible.

“It doesn’t look like it did in the picture,” Jarek said hesitantly as he poured the egg-mix onto our plates. And I meant pouring because the middle was still completely raw.

“You used a recipe?”

“I Googled it. I didn’t have all the ingredients, but I figured a few less wouldn’t make a difference.”

That explained at least part of it, but I was more concerned with the preparation time. “How long did it say to cook it for?”

He looked sheepish. “No clue. I didn’t get that far.” He turned his attention back to the blob. “Do you think it needed longer?”

Gosh, he was adorable. “I’m pretty sure it needed at least another ten minutes for the center to get done.”

“Should I put it back in the pan?”

I took a careful bite off one of the sides, which was a little soft but almost done. Almost immediately, I started coughing. Sheesh, how much salt had he put in there, half the shaker?

“Is something wrong?” Jarek asked.

In lieu of an answer, I held out a bit to him. He took it, then spit it right back out onto his plate. “That’s…”

“Not good,” I offered.

“I was more thinking along the lines of inedible and disgusting, but yes, not good covers it.” He sighed as he stared at the mess on our plates. “I figured an omelet would be easy to make.”

“You’ve never made one?”

“I usually eat cereal in the morning. As you can tell, cooking is not my strong suit. I’m sorry.”

He looked crushed, and somehow, that made me go all weak and soft inside. For the first time, he was the one who needed help, who didn’t have it all together. He’d never so much as hinted that he found my countless hangups and quirks annoying, not to mention my brain injury, but it still made me feel better that he wasn’t perfect either. “I can teach you.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“I’d like to.”

His expression softened. “You would?”

I nodded. “You’re teaching me…sex, so it’s only fair that I teach you a skill in return.”

He chuckled as he held up both hands, palms up. “Teaching blowjobs…” He brought one hand down. “Versus teaching cooking.” Now, he moved his other hand, but not as low. “I’d say I’m getting the better end of the deal here.”

I laughed along with him. “That’s okay. I owe you for… Well, for everything.”

He shook his head firmly. “No, sunshine. You don’t owe me a damn thing. Everything was freely given, no strings attached. Being with you is”—something passed over his face, but it was too quick for me to interpret—“special. You’re special.”

If he kept saying things like that, I was gonna embarrass myself by getting all teary-eyes or something, but those butterflies inside me had to release somehow. “You’re special too. I like… I love being friends with you. With benefits.”

“Right back atcha, gorgeous. But do you really think you can teach an old fart like me a new trick?”

I put my hands on my hips. “You’re not an old fart, okay? You’re…you’re perfect. And just so you know, I taught myself how to cook after my brain injury because I needed something else to focus on. If I can learn it with a brain firing on a quarter of its power, it shouldn’t be an issue for you.”

He held up his hands. “Say no more. I’ll be your willing student.”

I couldn’t wait.