Four

FOUR

H e didn't rent a car, he hired a car service, so we were picked up from the hospital in a town car and then driven to my apartment.

"You couldn't just rent a Toyota or something?" I teased him.

The look I got in return was priceless.

"You have no idea about normal people and their bills, do you?"

"No," he told me, "but you don't know everything about being rich and staying rich, so shove your righteous attitude right up your ass."

"You know I––"

"Stop trying to pick a fight with me," he snapped irritably. "I went and got the chocolate syrup for you that you like to put in your milk because the regular chocolate milk is too sweet."

"You did?"

"Yes." He turned from the window to look at me. "So try and not be such a total prick, okay?"

I would have yelled at him, but he took that moment to lace his fingers into mine. He wanted to hold my hand, and since he had spoiled me for other men, because he was so touchy-feely, I shut up and let him.

When I walked into my bedroom twenty minutes later, I was surprised by all the additional pillows.

"What's all this?"

"So you're comfortable."

I smiled at him. "I was okay before."

"You're hurt, Evan. You need to take it easy."

I looked at him.

"Sit," he said quickly, passing me a clicker for a new enormous TV that was now mounted to the wall above my chest of drawers.

I looked at it as I sat down on the bed. "Why did I need a new television?"

"Because the old one was tiny," he informed me. "You needed binoculars."

"I see." I smiled at him. "That's very thoughtful of you." I didn't argue or tell him to take it back. Dixon didn't work that way. Gift giving was his love language, and I knew that. I wasn't about to break his heart over a sixty-five-inch smart TV.

"Thanks," he murmured. "What can I get you to drink?"

"Nothing."

"You wanna watch a movie?"

"No."

"Okay," he replied, and then he left the room.

I put the controller on the night table and watched him go. He got very busy coming in and out, carrying stuff, and asking me if I wanted or needed anything each and every time. I understood then that I wasn't the only one who was a little weirded out. Over the next hour it made me tired just watching him hustle around the apartment. I reached out and took his hand the hundredth time he passed by me.

"Yes." He smiled down at me expectantly. "What can I get you?"

"Nothing," I answered, looking up at him. "I just wanna lie down."

"Oh." His brows furrowed slightly, like he was worried. "You need help?"

"No. I want you to lie down with me."

He chuckled. "I don't think so."

"Why?"

"Because you'd end up getting attacked, and you're not up for that," he said firmly, squeezing my hand before he let it go, about to turn and leave me.

I grabbed his wrist before he could take even a step away. "I'm not?"

"No."

"How do you know?" I asked. I was actually feeling pretty good. My orgasm the night before had absolutely sealed the deal on my need to bed the man. I was more than ready. And even though I was concerned that my body and my heart were still a little too closely entwined where he was concerned, I wanted him too much to worry about it.

"Ev," he said with an indulgent sigh, "I haven't slept with you in forever, and all I wanna do when I look at you is…." He trailed off, and I saw his jaw clench hard.

"What?" I asked, releasing his wrist.

"Never mind," he snapped out, forcing a smile even though his voice was full of sand. "Quit buggin' me. Lie the fuck down."

"I'd rather lie down with you."

He took a step away from me. "Ev, you're hurt, and I already feel crappy enough about what I did to you yesterday, and you've been through this huge ordeal that I don't even know how to… I'm so lucky that you––"

"You're a mess."

He raked his fingers through his hair. "You have no idea."

"You were really worried about me," I stated.

"Yes." He nodded, and I saw his gaze turn soft.

"Come here."

He just stared at me.

"Why don't you want to be close to me? You didn't have any trouble in the hospital."

"It was different in the hospital." He cleared his throat. "I couldn't––we couldn't do any more than what I…." He swallowed hard and then cleared his throat. "Here's the thing. I wanna make love to you so bad that it's just––"

I laughed out loud. "Make love to? That's a bunch of shit. Since when?"

He wiped his eyes roughly, smiling slightly. "Yeah, right."

"Say what you mean," I demanded, my voice flat.

He nodded, eyes on the floor before they flicked up to mine. "I wanna fuck you."

"Then do it," I told him.

He smiled at me like I was five. "Honey, you don't get it," he said indulgently. "You don't have the stamina to take what I––"

"If I ride you, like you said before, it'll be fine."

His moan was loud and deep, filled with need. "Ev, I… I would be all over you, and I would really try and be gentle if I got in bed with you, but maybe I wouldn't be able to stop or be gentle or––"

"Yes, you would," I assured him. "And I'm in better shape than you think."

He looked so pained.

"So what, then, if you don't trust yourself?"

He blew out a quick breath, clearly relieved that I was dropping it. "We'll just wait until you feel better."

"And what if the spell wears off by then? What if I tell you to just go home without me?"

"You already did that."

"Well, what if this is your one and only shot? What if me saying ‘Dixon Bain, please let me feel your cock buried inside me' is the only offer I'm going to make you?"

"I would rather never fuck you again than hurt you right now."

"Then maybe you should just go," I said, because I was committed to the line of conversation at that point. I couldn't back down or show any fear. He had to think I didn't care one way or another.

"No, thanks." He shook his head. "I can't do that. I'm just gonna torture myself and stick around."

"Torture?"

"Yes, this is torture for me, but I deserve it, so that's okay."

I sighed deeply because it was time for my confession. "I didn't fight."

He moved and sat down beside me on the bed.

I shrugged, but my eyes never left him. "I mean, I didn't fight for you. I just got up on my high horse and was like, if I'm not good enough for him, then fuck him."

His eyes were locked on mine.

"I could have fought with you, for you… I could have made you let me talk to your father, and everything would have been cleared up ten years ago instead of us losing so––" His sharp intake of breath cut me off. "What?"

He cleared his throat. "You were saying that we lost a lot of time, and so that means that maybe you want that time back, and if you do want that time back, then maybe you want some time now."

"Your mind is really scary."

"Don't I know it."

"You think just because it's Christmas that I'm gonna be overly sentimental."

"Where I'm concerned, I would be really pissed if you weren't at least a little sentimental."

I nodded before leaning in close to him.

"Quit," he warned me. I kissed where his jaw muscle was flexing. "You need to stop." He tried to smile, shifting to get up.

"No."

"Evan."

I reached for him, my hand slipping behind his neck as I drew him toward me. I kissed him slowly, and I heard his breath catch before I parted his lips with my tongue, slipping it inside his mouth. The moan was full of agony, and I smiled as I leaned back to look at him.

"You're trying to kill me."

I took his face in my hands and eased him back to me. I kissed him with everything I had. He had to know how much I both wanted and needed him, at least for the moment.

"What?" I asked him after ending the kiss.

"You gotta quit."

I leaned in and kissed him again, long and hard and heated with more of my tongue. Finally I let him go, but only when he was panting for air.

He took a deep breath, his face flushed, his breath catching, his bottom lip trembling. "You listen really well, Kano."

I smiled lazily, the effect I had on him obvious. "Yes, I know."

"Christ."

"What?"

"I crave you like a drug," he said matter-of-factly, and I noticed that he didn't look at all happy about it. "I have since I was nineteen fuckin' years old, and it hasn't changed one little bit. What the fuck is that?"

I chuckled.

"Baby, please." He looked like he was in pain. "Just lie down and––"

"Shut up." I grabbed a handful of the long-sleeve T-shirt he was wearing. "Take this off."

He just stared at me.

"You want me to beg?" I asked him, stroking his throat with the back of my fingers.

He pulled it off roughly and threw it on the floor.

"Lie down."

"Ev––"

"Quit," I grunted, cutting him off. "You talk too much."

He did as I asked, throwing pillows off the bed as he moved. I watched the muscles in his arms cord, admired his ass in his tight jeans and the way the sunlight caught all the gold in his hair. He was so sexy and beautiful, and it seemed like, if I wanted, if I just said the words, that he could belong to me all over again. I ran my hand over his back.

"What?"

"Nothing. Lie down."

He lay on his back, and I stretched out beside him, propping myself up so I could look down into his beautiful eyes, careful of the angle so I wouldn't rip the stitches in my chest.

"Evan, what can I do to help?"

"You've already done it," I told him. "Who knew that this Christmas I was finally getting closure? That's quite the gift, Mr. Bain."

"Could you just cut the shit? We both know you haven't been pining away for me for––"

"You don't know anything," I confessed, staring down into his eyes. The green was so dark at that moment, so clear. "You were my first everything. First guy I ever slept with, first guy I ever lived with, first guy I ever loved. Everyone that came after has been compared to you, and the way it ended… I never saw that coming."

"Evan––"

"It's okay." I grinned down at him. "We're both at fault: you gave up and I didn't fight. We're both idiots."

He put a hand through my hair and trailed his fingers down my throat. "I don't want to be an idiot anymore."

"It's too late," I teased him.

The pained expression on his face made me realize that we were talking about two different things. "Oh no, Dix, I mean that it's too late because you're already an idiot." I smiled and nodded for emphasis.

It took a second for my words to filter into his brain, but when they did, he scowled at me.

I let out a deep breath, and he lifted, rolling me to my back, moving so he was over me. He slipped his leg between mine and leaned down and kissed me. His hands on my face were caressing, tender.

"Dix––"

"Here, let's take this off," he said, his voice deep as he gently eased my T-shirt up and off.

"You know I––"

"Evan, honey," he said gently, sliding down my body, careful not to put any weight on me. "We're gonna be so careful with those stitches," he promised, kissing where it hurt.

I felt the tears sliding down my face, and I wiped at them.

"It's okay," he whispered, brushing them away, kissing my eyes and then my mouth. I could feel his growing urgency and my own desire for him.

"I don't expect this to be any more than––"

"For fuck's sake, Evan," he grumbled at me. "You think you're the only one who was there for four years? You think you're a saint and I'm just the fuck-up that lived with you?"

"No, I––"

"I was there because I wanted to be," he insisted. "I loved you, I still fuckin' love you, and I never stopped. And the whole time that you've been comparing guys to me, I've been doing the same exact thing. Do you have any idea what it's like to know that you fucked up the only shot you're ever gonna get?"

"Yes, honey," I soothed him, my fingers trailing through the short thick hair. "I do."

"Jesus, Evan," he groaned, "just… just say it already. Say it's okay. Say you forgive me for being a coward, for running, for putting anyone before you."

I sighed. "It's funny, you know. I mean, you're one of the most selfish people I know, and the one time I was counting on you getting what you wanted, instead you gave in to the pressure from other people—or what you perceived to be pressure at the time."

He looked startled, and I laughed at him.

"Oh shit, I did." His eyes were huge. "I never even thought of it that way."

"Because it's a fucked-up way to look at it." I chuckled.

He moved quickly, rising to his knees, straddling my hips at the same time he arched over me, hands on my face. "Baby, please, please just gimme another chance. Come for Christmas, come look at my life and see if you like it. You can help me be a better man and still save the fuckin' world."

"You wanna take me home like a stray dog for Christmas?"

"You're not a stray dog. You're the love of my life, you idiot."

He said the sweetest things.

"Dixon." I breathed his name at the same time I reached out and put a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down to me.

"What?" he asked, just the corner of his mouth curling.

I trembled hard.

"Tell me what you want."

I felt the tears slip from under my eyelids because the feelings were suddenly overwhelming. I had never needed him so badly. "Please."

The second his lips touched mine, I parted them for him. I heard the noise in the back of his throat as he tilted my head back, his tongue tasting me, his mouth hungry and rough, the kiss deep and wet. I arched up into him as his hands slid under me, over my ass. I grabbed him, arms around his neck, tight and clinging, holding him there, making sure he couldn't get away. He yanked me to the edge of the bed and unbuckled my belt. He checked my face, and when I smiled, giving the okay, he went to work on my jeans. He peeled them and then the briefs underneath off my legs.

"If I forgot to tell you yesterday, Ev, you're still fuckin' beautiful."

I trembled as his hot gaze raked over me. He opened my legs and wrapped them around his narrow hips. I felt his hands on the inside of my thighs. Chills of pleasure rolled through me, and I broke the kiss because I couldn't breathe.

"Look at you needing me."

There was no question.

"Is the stuff in the nightstand?"

I nodded.

He shifted over, one hand on my hip, the other rustling through the contents of the small drawer. I smiled when I felt him cup my ass.

"What?"

"You never could keep your hands off my ass."

"Because it's round and firm and perfect," he assured me. "The first time I ever saw you walk into the locker room in your jeans, I was in love."

I was going to banter with him, tease him, but he chose that moment to wrap his fingers around my needy cock. "Dix."

"You're crazy about me," he said as his lips opened on my collarbone and his fingers tightened, stroking, tugging gently. The shudder tore through me, the hoarse moan uncontained.

"Dixon," I called his name, hands in his hair, on his neck, down his back, clutching him to me.

"Tell me."

"I need you."

His lubed fingers slid inside me, and I rocked up into him, vaguely aware of the jingling of his belt buckle, the crinkling of foil. He was ready to sheath himself inside of a condom.

"Wait… you don't––you showed me your last test on your phone this morning, and there's only ever been you without," I panted, my breath shuddering.

He froze, his eyes locked on mine. "Me too… I never, I would never… you trust that?"

"You… always." I looked deep into his eyes. "With my life."

The muscles in his jaw and neck tensed, and I saw his pupils dilate. I trusted him, and the fact that I did, that it was total and implicit, all of it tied up with how he saw himself, had turned him on big-time. I knew him, knew his heart, and I had given him the piece that no other man could. He didn't have to convince me of who he was. I knew he was the good guy.

"Please," I breathed into the side of his neck before I bit him. He smelled so good, and his skin tasted even better. I licked and sucked and nibbled and knew from the shiver that ran through him that he was just as far gone as I was. "Dixon… need you."

He grabbed my legs, locking them back around his hips, and eased himself inside me, so slowly, so gently, filling me, his eyes never leaving mine. I watched his eyes drift closed, his head fall back as my name was whispered over and over. He had never felt so good.

"Jesus, Dixon," I moaned, my legs wrapped around him so tight, my hands fisted in the sheets. I had missed him, the way he filled me and stretched me, and my body shuddered in celebration that he was home.

"Baby," he growled, before he pulled out slightly only to thrust back in so deep, so fast that I yelled his name.

He froze, and I saw the fear wash over his face.

"No." I laughed, and only with him could I ever laugh in the middle of sex. "Don't stop. Please don't stop."

"I don't wanna hurt––"

"Dixon," I murmured, my hands running over his hot skin, gliding over the rock-hard muscles, the chiseled abs, and delighting in the feel of his body against mine. "I missed you so bad."

He drove deep inside me, and I was lost, mindless, the only thing that mattered was the man in my arms. My muscles clenched down on him, my body was hot and flushed, and the rolling wave of orgasm swept me up and drowned me. I screamed his name.

He thrust into me over and over, not worried, knowing that as hard as he could was what I wanted. It was overwhelming, because I knew his body as well as my own, knew when he wanted my legs as tight as they could be, holding him as he slid in and out of my now slick heat and kissing him fiercely, my tongue buried in his throat. He shuddered in my arms, my name breathed into my mouth as he released himself inside me, filling me. The kiss deepened, slowed as he slanted his mouth over mine, his arms holding me tight against his heart. When he pulled back, he stared into my eyes, and I stared right back.

"Christ, Ev, you feel so fuckin' good."

"You too." My voice caught, sounding ragged. My hands were still buried in his hair, my legs still wrapped tightly around his hips.

"Shit," he groaned, his arms tightening, making sure I couldn't get free.

"Is there something wrong, Mr. Bain?" I teased.

He let his head fall forward, and I chuckled, lifted it so I could kiss his forehead, down the bridge of his nose, run my tongue across his swollen lips.

"Stop." He moved his head, his eyes clouded.

"What's wrong?"

He eased out of me, rolling me sideways, away from him so he could spoon around me.

I caught my breath. It was his favorite thing, to lie with his groin pressed against my ass, his thighs plastered to mine, his face in my hair, my head pillowed on his bicep. From the first time we had ever been in bed together, he had curled his larger frame around mine. And I had loved it and I had missed it, never being comfortable enough with anyone else to even ask.

"What are you thinking?" he asked me. "You're a million miles away."

I pushed back, wiggling my ass against him.

"Stop moving," he ordered, tightening his hold.

"Dixon, you––"

"I want more than this."

"What?"

"I don't just want to screw you for my Christmas present."

The snort of laughter came out of me before I could muffle it.

"It's not funny."

It was hysterical, was what it was. I rolled over to face him, my head still on his arm.

"I want you to come home with me."

"For Christmas, yes, I know."

"No, not just for Christmas."

"For New Year's too?"

He growled at me.

"To keep? You wanna keep me?"

"God, yes," he groaned, "please lemme keep you."

The crooked smile, the way the laugh lines in the corners of his eyes crinkled, his hand smoothing down my spine to the small of my back, all of it was making me dizzy.

"Please," he begged.

"We're different now."

"Just––just come and see and make up your mind later, alright?"

"You're just tired of dating, and I'd be convenient to come home to."

"There's nothing convenient about you. I think pain in the ass describes you much better."

I stared at him as he smiled into my eyes.

"You drive me fuckin' nuts. You always have. Ever since you were eighteen, you've been making me crazy."

I sighed, touching his face, marveling at the fact that with age the man had just gotten better looking.

"When you're around, I remember who I am."

The darkest, clearest eyes I had ever seen were looking at me like I was an angel straight from heaven. I could barely breathe.

"So, can I take you home with me to meet my family ten years later?"

I wrapped my arms around his neck and rolled gingerly over on top of him, easing him down under me, putting him flat on his back. I kissed him and bit him and sucked on his tongue. When I rose over him, straddling his thighs, I realized that he was ready for round two.

"Hey," he said as he shifted under me.

I smiled down at him. "What?"

"I slept with a lot of guys, all right?"

"Okay."

"Like, way more than twenty."

I nodded. "Am I supposed to be impressed?"

"No, I just want you to know."

"Now I know."

"And you?"

"Just three," I told him.

"Three."

"Yep."

His eyes didn't leave mine. "And?" he asked as his hands slid up my thighs.

"And what?" I sucked in my breath as he took hold of my rigid shaft, milking it gently, lazily. Everything he did to me felt incredible.

"And did any of them make you scream?" he asked as I lifted up, giving him time to shift under me, the dance we had perfected so long ago. As I sank back down onto him, taking him in, letting him fill me, impale me, I felt his body jolt under me, saw his bottom lip quiver even as his eyes remained locked with mine.

"No, Dixon," I purred, leaning down, angling him in deeper as I licked a line up his throat. "I only scream your name."

"Shit," he groaned out, his voice cracking. "You're so hot and tight."

"Yeah? I feel good?"

"Always… God, I missed you."

"Good," I said, raising and lowering myself on the quickly hardened shaft.

"I missed you," he said again, his hand on the small of my back as he rolled me over, lifting my legs so they were over his arms. "I'll be gentle. I don't want to hurt you."

"You've never hurt me, and please, Dixon… don't you dare be gentle."

The sound that came out of him was pained.

I slid my calves up the bulging biceps to his broad shoulders. "Please," I said, squirming under him, trying to get him to move. "This is me. Pound me through the goddamn mattress."

Oh my God, the growl before he tried.

I woke up to Dixon holding my hand. He was rubbing my palm with his thumb, and then he lifted it to his mouth and kissed it. I sighed contentedly, basking in his attention.

"I forgot how good you feel next to me," he said sleepily, his voice deep. I watched him lace his fingers with mine before turning his chin to look into my eyes.

"Hey, you." I smiled at him, moving my leg under the covers, draping it across his thighs. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay," he promised, brushing the hair back from my face.

"So why did you come see me?"

"You know why."

I just stared into the heavy-lidded eyes.

"I'm tired of screwing," he said gruffly. "I fuckin' hate it."

"Most men your age like screwing a different guy every night."

"Well, I don't. I want to belong to one guy. I want to belong to you."

"And?" I asked, smoothing my fingers across his right eyebrow that ended in a scar.

"When I talked to my father that day after I heard you were shot, I just… I thought, if I don't take a chance to see if things could be fixed between us… I had to just come see."

"I'm glad you did."

The muscles in his jaw clenched.

"And I will go home with you for Christmas."

He nodded fast, unable to speak.

"And New Year's, and we'll see what happens."

"Okay," he said hoarsely, smiling even as he caught his breath.

"Even if this doesn't work," I told him, and I felt the shiver course through his larger frame, "I love you."

He grabbed me, and I gasped because it hurt just a little, but love did hurt. Just a little.

"It will work," he promised me. "I deserve it, I've been good this year, and I need a little Christmas happy."

"Look at me."

He leaned back, his eyes locked on mine.

"Merry Christmas, baby."

And the scorching kiss he gave me let me know that I really was all he ever wanted.