Chaper 10 - Jesse

Should changing the dirty sheets after my fiancé fucked other people bother me? Probably. But the truth is, it didn't. I knew what Ash did for a living before I even walked through his door. I knew long before I'd struggled to ignore the scent of peppermint in his hair. Before I couldn't look away from the way his robe draped over his shoulders. Before he sat with me as I studied on lazy weeknights, his fingertips tenderly tracing my thigh. Before his soft gaze and easy smile somehow melted my anxiety when I began stumbling over my words as we spoke. I knew long before I fell in love with him.

I knew for a fact that I'd given Ash my heart, and that he'd given me his in return. I also knew that when he gave his body to others, it wasn't the same as it was when he offered it to me. Had I been in the room to watch how he responded to his clients' touch? Nope. Had I seen the way they arched and whimpered under his fingertips? Definitely not.

It didn't matter. It was simply a fact that it wasn't possible for his professional services to feel like it did between us. I knew he didn't lay on his back and offer his body and soul in the way he did with me. I knew they weren't able to make him tremble into pieces until he was a sweaty mess, incapable of stringing two words together the way I was. I knew that he wasn't able to bring them to the edge of reason simply by lying in their arms and whispering sweet nothings, rocking his body so gently that it was no more than waves lapping at the shore. I knew that to be the truth. If his services were anything like that, he'd have been able to retire a decade ago.

I had no doubt that what he offered them was far above average. I knew he was strong and flexible and capable. I knew they'd leave satisfied and anxious to return, but they'd never know him the way I did.

They'd never see his eyes light up simply because they walked into a room. He'd never let them know he was afraid he wasn't enough. He'd never be theirs.

So no, changing his dirty sheets and taking payments from clients that arrived at my desk with stubble scratched necks after their sessions didn't bother me.

Nothing about Ash's job bothered me. I didn't accept him despite his profession. His profession was a large part of his identity, and I loved every piece of him, even that.