Chapter 6

6

ELLERY

I woke to the gentle rhythm of Boaz’s breathing, his warm body pressed against mine. He was a cuddler, constantly seeking my presence, even in his sleep—not that I minded. My chest tightened with an unfamiliar ache as I studied his features—those full lips, dark curls, the hint of stubble along his jaw. He was so goddamn beautiful. What the fuck was he doing here with me?

The urge to reach out and trace the curve of his cheek was nearly overwhelming. Instead, I carefully extracted myself from the tangle of limbs and blankets, not wanting to disturb his peaceful slumber. As I eased out of bed, Boaz made a small sound of protest and burrowed deeper into the pillow. A fond smile tugged at my lips.

“Shh, go back to sleep,” I murmured, though he was already drifting off again.

He’d fallen asleep suckling my cock the day before, which had been the most beautiful sight ever. I’d let him sit there for a long time before carrying him to bed, and he’d only woken up an hour or two later. Was it normal for a guy his age to sleep that much?

I’d asked him if he wanted to spend the night again, and he’d said he had a flight to catch. But as soon as he’d said that, he told me he’d changed his mind. Before I could even ask if he was sure, he’d already pushed his flight back by a day. Damn iPhone generation.

Not that I was complaining about him staying longer. I liked having him here far more than I should.

I moved quietly around the bedroom, pulling on layers to ward off the morning chill—a thermal shirt, flannel, thick socks. All the while, my gaze kept drifting back to Boaz’s sleeping form. There was something so vulnerable about him like this, something that made me want to wrap him up and shield him from the world.

Christ, when did I get so soft?

But I couldn’t deny the warmth that spread through my chest as I watched him. It had been a long time since I’d felt this…protective of someone. This invested.

I shook my head, trying to clear the sappy thoughts. There’d be time to sort through all that later. For now, I had work to do.

The crisp winter air hit me like a slap to the face as I stepped outside, my breath clouding in front of me. The snow crunched beneath my boots as I approached the woodpile, axe in hand. I relished the bite of the cold. It cleared my head, grounding me in the present moment.

I set up the first log and swung the axe with practiced ease. The satisfying thunk and crack as it split the wood echoed through the silent forest. I fell into a rhythm, the repetitive motion familiar and comforting.

Thunk. Crack.

Thunk. Crack.

As my body worked, my mind wandered. What was it about Boaz that had gotten under my skin so quickly? His infectious energy? That smart mouth of his that I was dying to shut up in the best way possible?

Thunk. Crack.

Thunk. Crack.

Or maybe it was the vulnerability I sensed beneath his chatty exterior. The way his eyes lit up when I paid attention to him, like he wasn’t used to being truly seen. Jesus, every time I called him a good boy, his face lit up like the sun.

Thunk. Crack.

Thunk. Crack.

I’d explored the D/s dynamic and played around with some Daddy kink, but it all went too far for me. A power exchange wasn’t for me, and neither were formal rules. I just wanted somebody I could take care of, someone willing to let me be my dominant self and experiment with some very mild spice in the bedroom without expecting more. Was that someone Boaz?

Thunk. Crack.

Thunk. Crack.

He was too young for me. Too pretty. Plus, he lived in LA—though he had said he wasn’t happy there. But he’d quickly grow bored here, almost off the grid and in the middle of nowhere. Forestville wasn’t exactly a bustling city, though I loved its small-town charm. I hoped to stay and build friendships here. It was ridiculous to even consider how Boaz might fit in, right? I’d only met him two days prior.

“Fuck,” I muttered, wiping sweat from my brow despite the cold. I was in deeper than I’d realized.

After finishing, I gathered an armload of split logs and headed back inside. The cabin’s warmth enveloped me as I crossed the threshold, but everything was quiet otherwise, so Boaz must’ve still been asleep.

The rich aroma of coffee filled the kitchen as I measured grounds into the French press. While it brewed, I pulled out a pot for oatmeal, the familiar motions grounding me in the present. The gentle bubbling of the oats simmering on the stove mingled with the soft gurgle of coffee, creating a soothing morning symphony.

I breathed in deeply, savoring the comforting scents. As I stirred a dollop of honey into my oatmeal, I grinned at the memory of Boaz’s genuine admiration for my role as a smokejumper. He’d been so in awe, making me stand a little taller.

Shaking my head at my own ridiculousness, I carried my breakfast into the living room. I settled into my favorite armchair, its worn leather creaking as I sank into it. The cabin was peacefully quiet, save for the occasional pop and crackle from the fireplace.

I picked up the book I’d been reading—the story of the famous Band of Brothers from the 101st Airborne in the Second World War—but found my attention wandering. My gaze kept drifting to the closed bedroom door. Was Boaz still asleep? The thought of him curled in my bed, dark curls tousled against the pillow, made something clench in my gut.

“Get it together, old man,” I muttered to myself. But even as I tried to focus on my book, my mind kept circling back to Boaz. His quick wit and expressive eyes, the way his face lit up when he laughed. Christ, when was the last time anyone had made me feel like this?

A soft creak from the bedroom door upstairs drew my attention. I glanced up to see Boaz shuffling down the stairs and into the living room, looking adorably disheveled. His dark curls were a wild mess, sticking up in all directions, and his eyes were still heavy with sleep. He’d thrown on one of my flannel shirts, which hung comically large on his slender frame, the sleeves rolled up several times to free his hands.

“Morning,” he mumbled, voice rough with sleep. He ran a hand through his hair, somehow making it even messier. “Shit, I’m sorry for sleeping so late. I totally crashed.”

An affectionate chuckle escaped me. “No need to apologize. You clearly needed the rest.”

Boaz gave me a sheepish grin, his full lips curving upward. “Yeah, I guess I did. This place is so…peaceful, you know? I can’t remember the last time I slept that well.”

I set my book aside, rising from my chair. “Hungry? I made oatmeal.”

“Real oatmeal? Not the stuff from a box?”

“Of course it’s the real thing.”

“God, yes,” Boaz said, his eyes lighting up. “I’m starving. But you don’t have to?—”

I waved off his protest. “I want to. Go sit by the fire and warm up. I’ll bring you some milk too.”

As I heated his oatmeal, I was hyperaware of Boaz’s presence. The sound of his occasional yawn, the rustle of fabric as he shifted on the couch all seemed amplified.

“This place is amazing, Ellery,” Boaz said, his voice carrying easily in the open space. “It’s so quiet out here. No traffic, shouting neighbors, or constant buzz of…everything.”

I smiled to myself, a warm feeling spreading through my chest. “That’s why I love it out here. It’s a good place to clear your head.”

I carried a bowl of oatmeal and a glass of milk to the living room, handing Boaz both and settling beside him on the couch. As I watched him take his first bite, his eyes closed in appreciation, a surge of satisfaction floated through me.

“God, this is so good,” Boaz mumbled around a mouthful. He swallowed and continued, words tumbling out rapidly. “You know, I didn’t realize how stressed I was until I got here. It’s like…I can actually hear myself think for once. My brain isn’t constantly buzzing with a million things.”

I nodded, taking a sip of my black coffee. “The quiet has a way of doing that. Slowing things down, putting things in perspective.”

Boaz’s spoon paused midway to his mouth. “Yeah, exactly! It’s like… I don’t feel the need to fill every second with noise or activity. And waking up, I had some amazing ideas for new art. I’ve struggled to find inspiration lately, but it came to me now.” He glanced at me, a hint of sheepishness in his brown eyes. “Sorry, I’m rambling again, aren’t I?”

“Don’t apologize. I like hearing your thoughts.”

A pleased smile spread across Boaz’s face, and I had to look away, hyperaware of how close we were sitting. I could smell the woodsy scent of my soap on his skin, could feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“I wish I could stay here a little longer,” Boaz sighed, then his expression fell. “But I guess I should start packing soon. My reservation at the motel ends today and my flight will leave tomorrow.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I’d known, logically, that Boaz couldn’t stay longer, but hearing him say it made it real. The thought of him leaving, of returning to my solitary existence, left an unexpected ache in my chest. “Why are you heading back already? Do you have plans for Christmas?”

He shook his head, his eyes even more sad. “My dad and Hawk are back in Texas, and I can’t afford to fly in since I’m heading there for their wedding in a few weeks. So I’ll be on my own.”

“Your mom?” I asked hesitantly, uncertain if that was a touchy subject or not.

“She’s working. She’s the manager of a large resort in Miami, and they’re always booked for the holiday season, so she can’t take off.”

Before I could think better of it, words were tumbling out of my mouth. “You could stay here if you want.” I cleared my throat, meeting Boaz’s wide-eyed gaze. “Until after Christmas, I mean. If you’d like. We could celebrate Christmas together.”

The offer hung in the air between us, sincere and warm. My heart pounded as a myriad of emotions flickered across Boaz’s expressive face—surprise, disbelief, and then something that looked a lot like hope.

“Are you serious?” Boaz asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’d really let me stay?”

I nodded, feeling oddly vulnerable. “Yeah, I would. No one should be alone for Christmas, and…” I trailed off, searching for the right words. “It’s nice having you here. Really nice. And you could see Forestville’s Winter Festival, which is tomorrow. It’s supposed to be a lot of family-friendly fun. And we could maybe go snowmobiling if you’d like?”

Boaz’s eyes glistened, and for a moment, I worried I’d overstepped. But then a brilliant smile broke across his face, lighting up the entire room. “Ellery, I… God, I don’t even know what to say.” He ran a hand through his curls, something I’d noticed he did when he was overwhelmed. “Thank you. Seriously, thank you so much.”

The pure gratitude in his voice made something warm unfurl in my chest. I reached out, clasping his shoulder. “It’s not a sacrifice, kid. I love having you here.”

Boaz leaned into my touch, and I felt a jolt of electricity at the contact. Our eyes met, and a reflection of my own growing feelings was mirrored in his gaze. There was a deepening connection between us, and he felt it too.

“I promise I won’t be a bother,” Boaz said. “I can help with chores, cooking, whatever you need. And I’ll try not to talk your ear off too much, though I can’t make any guarantees there because, well, you know how I am, and?—”

I chuckled, squeezing his shoulder. “You’re not a bother. Just be yourself, all right?”

He nodded with a sheepish grin. “Right, sorry. It’s… This means a lot to me. More than you know.”

As I looked at him, flushed with happiness and gratitude, I realized it meant a lot to me too. More than I was ready to admit, even to myself.

I had a whole week with Boaz…and I was determined to enjoy every second of it, even if it would break my heart to see him leave again.