CHAPTER 100

jackson

W est was something else. He laughed, he smiled, he cracked jokes. When it was just us, he was relaxed and open. Even with the restaurant staff, he wasn’t anxious or put out. He was more reserved, but it passed when they left. All of it was a bittersweet reminder of everything that had been taken from him. It was also an impressive testament to what he’d been able to achieve. I was so fucking proud of him, and I’d never find the words to express that.

“It’s not much,” West was saying as he fished out the keys to his apartment. His apartment. He’d come a long way from sleeping in my stables.

“Don’t diminish it,” I said. “It’s yours, and that’s a big deal.”

“Yeah.” He nodded slowly. His nervousness was kind of adorable, but I understood it. I knew just how big this moment was for him. “Okay.”

He opened the door, and I followed him inside. The apartment was small and simple with gray walls, plush furniture, and soft lighting. There were sketches pinned to the walls everywhere—horses, plants, cows, and more. A yellow knit blanket was tossed over a chair along with an array of black and gray ones. There were a lot of fucking blankets. A little coffee table was covered in sketch pads and used pencils. Through their open doors, I could tell the bedroom and the bathroom matched the yellow, black, and gray aesthetic.

“You kept it.” I nodded to the horseshoe hanging on the support beam between the kitchen and the living room.

“I told you I would,” West replied. He stood in the middle of the living room with his hands in his pockets, watching my every move as if trying to figure out what I was thinking.

“I like it, West,” I told him. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

He drew in a deep breath, his head bobbing slightly as he didn’t say a word. I could see the wheels turning in his head and decided to wait him out. Whatever he wanted to say, he’d say it when he was ready. Funny how some things never changed.

“I want to say I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“You don’t have to say—”

“I do, though,” he interrupted. “I do need to. I know I apologized in my letter, but I need to say it out loud. I’m sorry I wasn’t there after you got hurt. I should’ve been, or I should’ve said something to you sooner about where I went.”

“You never have to apologize for taking care of yourself, West,” I assured him. I was over my anger at him about walking out. It was clear that he needed this so much more than how I’d wanted him there with me. “I get it, and I see what you’ve done for yourself. You don’t have to apologize for that.”

“And there’s something I should’ve said sooner.” He took a step closer. “You know, I suck at this whole feelings thing. I didn’t have the best examples in my life of good relationships, and I just…”

He swallowed hard, and I realized what he was trying to say. But the thing was, I didn’t need him to say it. Knowing how West felt wasn’t hard once I understood the way he expressed himself. It was in all the little things he did—the little ways he cared for me. Those things mattered too.

“I know,” I said to help alleviate the stress. “You don’t have to say a thing West.”

“No, I do,” he insisted and took one more step toward me. “I love you, Jackson. I loved you growing up, I loved you long after I left, and I still love you. I’ll always love you. ”

I knew it—I had known it for a while—but hearing him say the words still made me smile. Two more steps and his hands were on my face as he kissed me. Confident and emotional. Every nerve in my body reacted instantly, coming to life in a way only West could manage to coax out of me.

His tongue brushed along the seam of my lips. I tilted my head slightly as I opened to him and kissed him deeper. My fingers curled into his hair while his traveled down my back, sending a shiver down my spine. God, I’d fucking missed this. I missed him.

“Drop the cane, cowboy,” West whispered against my mouth. His arm wrapped around my waist, anchoring there and supporting my weight. “I’ve got you.”

How the hell was I supposed to argue with that? I set my cane aside and leaned into him as he walked backward toward the bedroom. There was no frenzy. Everything he did was meticulous as he mindfully moved with me—dragging my sweater over my head and working with me to peel off his dress shirt while still holding up my weight.

But Jesus fuck, how unattractive was it watching me ease into bed because my fucking hip and leg didn’t work the way they should. And yet, West was undeterred. The look of want and need on his face made my heart pound with anticipation. He was so fucking sure of himself—of us. It was a wild change in him.

Without his shirt on, it was clear he’d started working out. His shoulders were broader and his muscles more defined. But what caught my attention was the new tattoo over his heart. A cowboy hat and a horseshoe.

“Is that a…”

“Did I brand myself with a tattoo for you?” West asked. “Yeah, I did.”

“Jesus Christ, West,” I muttered. I felt how my cheeks heated up at his words. Jesus fuck this man had me blushing . “That’s one way to put it.”

“I’ve always known what I wanted, cowboy.” He kneeled between my legs and caught my mouth in another heated kiss. “I just never thought I deserved you.”

I kissed him harder. The way he used past tense to talk about those feelings wasn’t lost on me. His hand skimmed down my chest and stomach, leaving a trail of liquid heat in their path. But when his fingers touched the buttons of my jeans, I grabbed his wrist .

“It’s just…” I gripped his hand a little tighter as I struggled to find the words.

“Do you want to stop, Jackson?” West asked. There was an irony in this moment.

“Not a chance in hell,” I retorted. My cock would probably riot if I did that. I hadn’t been this goddamn hard in a long time. “But you should know that I’m a fucking mess after all the surgeries and everything.”

Mangled mess was more like it. There had been no good way to put me back together without leaving a whole goddamn disaster behind. I was scar tissue upon scar tissue going from my hip to my shin. It wasn’t fucking pretty.

“Your scars don’t matter, cowboy,” he said. After a heartbeat, he smirked and added, “And I’m happy to fucking hit anyone who says otherwise.”

“Yeah, still need bail money for your dumbass,” I groaned. I dropped back on the bed and lifted my hips as he helped me out of my jeans and boxers. To my surprise, his lips brushed over the scars on my shin. I drew in a sharp breath, tensing under the contact.

“Does it hurt?” West whispered against my skin.

“Not really,” I admitted. “Just more…”

“Uncomfortable,” he finished for me. I nodded because it was. That touch pain had long since subsided but the damaged nerves bundled into all the scars left everything extra sensitive—something West understood intimately.

He took his time kissing every inch of scarring on my leg. The gesture was so tender that it had my heart in my throat with an overwhelming flood of emotion. When his tongue ran up the length of my cock, all of that melted away with the loud moan I let out. My eyes slid shut as his mouth lowered around the crown of my dick—hot and wet.

Yeah, it’d been too fucking long.

“Get undressed, baby,” I ordered, my voice strained. “I want you inside me.”

His mouth popped off my dick, and he shot me a cocky grin. From that single fucking look I could tell I wasn’t ready for confident-in-bed West.

“What happened to patience is a virtue?” he teased and went right back at it .

“Patience and blue balls don’t go hand in hand, baby,” I grunted as the head of my dick hit the back of his throat. “You keep doing that…”

Anything else I planned to say was fucking lost as he gave my balls a light squeeze. Without thinking, I grabbed his hair and pulled him off my cock.

“You keep doing that and I’m going to come before we even get started,” I told him. As the words left my mouth, I realized the hold I had on his hair and let go. I tensed as I waited for the backlash, but he just smiled. Gorgeous and undeterred.

“Watching you unravel? Yeah, that’s not the threat you think that is, cowboy.” Still, he slid off the bed to get undressed. I watched with rapt appreciation as he stripped. “Lube is in the nightstand drawer.”

I went to grab it but came out with an empty bottle. I frowned. The second one I grabbed was empty too. So was the third one.

“West,” I began, trying not to laugh, “why the hell are there three empty lube bottles in your drawer?”

“Well… I used them, but clearly, I forgot to throw them away.” He grinned. The pride in his face was hard to argue with. Settling over me, his lips drifted up my neck and his teeth scraped over my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “I worked really fucking hard to get comfortable with my body. Maybe a little too hard. I should probably throw those the fuck away.”

“Later.” I dragged his mouth back to mine. I wasn’t about to fault him for that shit. With anyone else, three bottles of lube would’ve been ridiculous, but with West, it was a thing to be proud of. Maybe I’d ask questions later, but I honestly didn’t care. I liked the level of confidence and comfort he had with himself.

It took several minutes to figure out a position that didn’t tweak something painful in my hip. Through all of it, West was patient and doting. He kissed away the frustration I felt with my own inhibitions. It wasn’t lost on me how much the roles between us were suddenly reversed.

The stretch and burn as he pressed the head of his cock into me had me holding my breath. And when that first piercing of his stretched me further, I froze slightly.

“Breathe, cowboy,” West whispered against my mouth. “I can feel how tense you are. ”

“It’s been a while,” I muttered. Since the night before my accident. He kissed me again, his tongue stroking mine. My body loosened under his as he took his time, pulling in and out gradually. With each light thrust, he pushed deeper inside me. When he was buried to the hilt, he paused to give me a chance to adjust.

“Fuck, you’re so goddamn tight,” he let out through a groan. The burn slowly subsided, leaving me with a need for more of him. He braced over me and started slow—too slow. My hands trailed down his back and grabbed his ass, encouraging him to go faster.

We melted into a frenzy driven by passion and fifteen months apart. Completely and utterly intoxicated by one another. West’s fist wrapped around my cock, stroking me at a pace that matched the way he drove into me. I did everything I could to keep from coming. I wanted to savor this. I wanted to savor him.

I touched him every place I could—running my hands up his sides, teasing his nipple piercings, kissing his neck. The way he reacted was encouraging. Little moans, gasps, pleas to repeat what I’d done . It was discovering him all over again. The pressure of his barbels with every thrust was euphoric in a way that I’d never get used to. And while I did my best to stay present—to focus on him—I was fucking soaring and crashing head first into everything he elicited in me.

“Don’t hold back, cowboy,” West said. His fist skated faster over my cock until I dropped back on the pillow, panting and right there on the edge. He grunted and groaned over me, his body tensing. I grabbed his forearm with a need to cling to him.

“ Fuck. ” The single word was drawn out as I exploded, painting my stomach in thick ropes of cum. West tumbled over the edge with me, pushing as deep inside me as possible when he came. His hand slipped from my dick and braced on the sheets as he breathed hard.

Those gray eyes met mine, and he grinned—real and utterly wrapped up in the moment. That smile on his face roped around my heart like barbed wire, digging in and sticking where it was. Exactly where West belonged.