26. Chapter Twenty-Six

Dinner gets eaten, and dishes get done. It's maybe eight by the time we settle on his couch, coffee and slices of chocolate cheesecake on the small table in front of us. He's just finished telling me about his friend Angie, whom I remember seeing at the diner the other day. He seems to have endless stories about Angie's dog, Piper, who apparently used to enjoy getting into trouble when she was younger.

It's definitely a lighter conversation than the one we had just before dinner, and I'm glad he's been able to relax since then. I'm still trying to not feel guilty for dredging up all those memories of his that are obviously still so difficult for him to talk about. And for whatever part I'd played—not being there for him, him being so alone and struggling on his own for so long.

At least he'd had Mel and Angie.

But my heart hurts, knowing how much he'd really needed his best friend to be there for him, to not have abandoned him right before all that shit happened.

I pick up my plate of cheesecake, and he copies me as he scoots closer.

"The man at the bakery said this is the best cheesecake in town," I say, and Coop's silly grin tells me he probably already knows this.

"Mel made it." He scoops up a forkful and takes a bite. "It definitely is the best, maybe even in all of Nebraska."

"Is that so?" I lift my own fork, but I'm a little too distracted watching him as he licks the chocolate off his lips.

"I haven't really traveled much, so you should know better than me," he says, grinning. "Try it."

Oh, I definitely want to. I set my plate back down and move closer to him, and he seems to know where I'm going with this, so he meets me partway, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. Our lips meet, and his mouth opens for me, inviting me to taste him. I can't help moaning as I explore every crevice. It's sweet, and yeah, the chocolate is phenomenal, and—god. He leans over and sets the cheesecake down on the coffee table, and then he's somehow pulling me into his lap so I straddle him.

"God, yeah," I groan, and I come back in for another kiss.

"Yeah?" He smiles and kisses me again. This time, his tongue sweeps through my mouth, and his hands shift to my ass and pull my hips higher up on his thighs. He grunts and tears his mouth away from mine, then lowers his head to my chest.

"Yeah, yeah. It's really, really good cheesecake," I say, breathless.

"The best."

"Probably. I should taste it again, though, to be sure."

He laughs, then tilts his head up and kisses my neck before wrapping an arm around me, leaning forward, and grabbing his plate from the table. He's got that same silly smile—god, I just love it—and I'm grinning back as he takes another small bite of the cheesecake, licks the extra chocolate off his lips again, and sets the plate down on the table.

He doesn't say anything, but he pulls me even closer and lifts his chin, and we're kissing. Again. God, it's incredible. Heat spreads through my chest as I explore every inch of his mouth with my tongue.

"Mmm, god, this..." I can't finish my thought because he starts massaging up my thighs with sure, strong hands. My whole body's buzzing, and I groan again and tear my lips away from his as his hands slip under my shirt and then around to my back.

"Mm-hmm." He's agreeing with everything I didn't say, and then his lips are on my neck.

For a moment, I think I forget to breathe. It's so damn good. Especially when he does whatever he's doing with his tongue and when his hands rub up my back. God, they're warm. And I'm burning everywhere.

"I want you again," he murmurs, his breath hot against my neck. "I want..."

He trails off as he lifts my shirt, and I help him by pulling it over my head and tossing it to the floor. His hands shift to my hips, holding me against him, and his mouth is immediately back on my neck, then kissing a path downward. I'm not entirely sure what happens next, except that I end up underneath him on the couch, one of his knees wedged between me and the back couch cushions. His lips cover mine, and his hands are everywhere, trailing fire along my stomach and chest as they explore.

I moan as he presses his hips down into mine.

"Pants off," I say, although I think it comes out more like a plea than a demand.

"Mmm, yeah, yeah."

My hands are at his waistband, my fingers fumbling to undo the button to his jeans, but he's suddenly decided to slow everything down again. And god, I might not survive it. His tongue flicks across my nipple, and he takes it in his mouth and sucks. Slowly.

"God, Coop." I'm so distracted that I forget what I was doing, but it's the best kind of distracted. I'm throbbing with want. And I need my pants off.

He does it again, rasping his tongue over me, and then moves to the other nipple and does the same thing. All while his hand starts stroking me through my pants.

"Fuck, you're hot," he groans. "I want..." He doesn't finish again, but this time, he moves with a bit more urgency, his fingers easily unbuttoning my jeans. He's still careful as he shifts and slips them off, and he quickly stands and finishes what I started, taking off his pants too.

I expect him to settle back on the couch with me, but he just stands there for a moment, his eyes dark with desire as they wander my body. His tongue darts out to wet his lips.

Yes. Yes, please. My dick throbs again, wanting something I've never had.

I scoot back a bit so I'm sitting up partway, leaning against the couch's armrest, and I start to slip my boxer briefs off, but he shakes his head.

"Let me. Please." His voice is low and husky, and there's another rush of heat to my groin as he starts to move back onto the couch.

I nod, because there's nothing else I think I'm capable of, and he grins. And then his hands are back on my thighs, caressing upward. I screw my eyes shut and let out a shuddering breath. His fingers reach my hips, and I lift myself up off the couch just enough as he tugs my briefs down. Then he's trailing up my inner thigh with hot, wet kisses, and his hand closes around the base of my shaft.

"Ahh, god, that's... that's good. That's—" Hot. I'm hot all over. And there's this intensity to everything as he pumps his hand slowly up and down, his kisses getting closer and closer.

My hands find his shoulders, and I squeeze gently and open my eyes halfway to look at him. He's poised above my dick now, watching his hand stroke me, and his tongue is out again, licking his lips in anticipation. He looks up at me questioningly as his thumb brushes over my slit, spreading the drop of precum.

God, I want it. I want his mouth on me. And he's so close and ready, his eyes asking me. I can feel his hot breath against me, and I'm a little worried I might come just as soon as his mouth touches me.

"Can I . . . ?"

Vaguely, I wonder why he's even asking at this point, but I don't need to question it. I think I nod, and I manage something that might be a rough "Please."

There's a glint in his eyes, and the corner of his mouth twitches up in a small half-smile. His gaze doesn't leave mine as he lowers his head and presses a light kiss to my tip. God, it's just... so sexy. And there's another of those rushes—a jolt of heat and want and pleasure.

I groan and close my eyes.

It's all so much—this intense arousal coursing through me as I feel his tongue, warm and wet, swirling slowly around me. I somehow force my eyes back open again, because I want to see him, and he takes me in his mouth and sucks and—

"Oh god, oh god, oh—" Yeah, eyes closing again. Everything is so much. I throb in his mouth, and he slides back up my length and then down again. "Ahhhhhh, god—god, that's—"

I moan some sort of nonsense, and I can't finish a sentence or think or feel anything but where he's touching me—his mouth so hot and tight as he sucks on me again, one of his hands resting on my thigh, pressing into me. God, I might just come right in his mouth right now.

He pulls his mouth off of me, and I open my eyes to watch as he takes my dick in his hand again and then licks all the way up from the base to the tip before plunging me back into his mouth, so deep this time that I feel the back of his throat. He does it again and again, more confidently each time, his hand following the motion. There's more pressure building in my groin and just this tightness, and then—

"Ahh, Coop, I'm—I'm—ahh, godddddd—"

Everything tightens more and then crashes in these intense waves of the best pleasure and relief. And god, it's so, so good.

I don't even realize until the last throb of my release that my hand is gripping his on my stomach, and his other hand is stroking my inner thigh with this gentleness and love. And it's overwhelming all over again.

He lets me slip from his mouth, and then he sits back and somehow pulls me up into his arms. His lips are on mine and then on my cheek, and he's saying something, but I can't really understand him over the buzz and tingling that's still spreading through my body.

There's something I need to tell him, though. And it's important. And I need to kiss him again. That's important too.

My hands find his face, and I draw him in for another kiss. He's breathing hard, like I am, and he feels so warm. He tastes so good. He deepens the kiss, and it's intoxicating.

"That was incredible. You're incredible," I say as I pull back to look at him. His cheeks are red, and his eyes are half-closed. His chest still rises and falls rapidly. Some intense emotion flares through me, and I kiss his lips again. "I love you."

He trembles as his arms wrap around me and hold me to him. And his lips graze my cheek before he buries his head in the crook of my neck and lets out a long, shuddering breath.

I'm not sure what he's feeling right now. Probably completely overwhelmed. Today has been a lot. Shit, the whole week has been a lot.

"Coop . . ."

I rub his back lightly, and he tenses and twists his neck sideways a bit with a grunt.

"Ah, fuck, I . . ."

"More Advil?"

He laughs lightly and then groans again. "Yeah, I think so. But it's not—I mean, it's not from the, uh... It was starting to hurt again before I—"

He runs a hand through his hair a little nervously, and I shake my head and press a light kiss to his lips. "Yeah, your last dose probably wore off by now. I've got that bottle out in the car. Just give me a minute, okay?"

His arms loosen from around me, and he frowns as he looks up at me. "You—you don't have to—"

"I'll do even better than that. Hang on one minute."

I push myself up off him, stand, and throw my clothes on. Then I jog outside to Brenna's car—damn, it's cold, and the wind's picked up, bringing with it little drops of stinging rain.

I'm quick to grab the Advil, which is in the center console, and then I pop the trunk to get the massage cream from Brenna's duffle bag of physical therapy supplies. As I start to rummage through the bag, my mind wanders like it hasn't had the chance to all day. I've been so focused on Coop and all these new feelings and experiences, but for the few moments I'm out here alone, going through the trunk of Brenna's car, I'm reminded of her. There's this intense pang of sadness that hits me square in the chest, and it's enough that, for a moment, I forget to breathe. The sadness is quickly replaced by gratitude for all she's given me. Even with everything I've put her through—this upheaval of everything in her life—the last words she'd said to me yesterday were to tell me how happy she was for me. And that just means so, so much.

I let out a slow breath and close my eyes for a second. Then I pick up the tube of massage cream, slip it in my pocket, and close the trunk. A minute later, I'm back inside, the Advil in my hand. I shut the door behind me, shrug my coat off, and then open up the bottle and shake out four of the 200-milligram pills.

"Here, take these. And then . . ."

Coop's still sitting on the couch, his expression a little tight, and he looks up at me as I hand him the pills.

"Then?"

"We're moving back to the bedroom."

He narrows his eyes at me but quickly pops the pills into his mouth and swallows. Then he grabs my hand and pulls me closer. His hands find my hips and his fingers inch under my shirt, teasing along my skin. He rests his head against my stomach, and I run my fingers through his hair.

"We didn't finish our cheesecake," he says quietly, but I can tell he's not really complaining. And when I step back and offer him my hand, he takes it and lets me help him stand.

"We'll have more cheesecake later. Right now, I'm going to show you one of the benefits of having a physical therapist for a, uh..."

. . . boyfriend? Are we—is that what we are?

Damn, this is all happening so fast. Even if it's really not. I've had these feelings for him... forever. I've loved him for so long. I've just been hiding—from myself, from him, from my father. I had to. To stay safe. Or at least that was how it started.

But, god, I was so wrong. Letting the lies persist for so long. Lying to myself, long after my dad was no longer a threat.

And what Coop's showing me today—this love—it's so much better than I'd ever imagined. I feel real and alive and safe—actually, really safe—for maybe the first time in my life. It feels so good. So right.

He's watching me with a kind, quiet expression, and his face reddens as he reaches up and touches my cheek. "In case it wasn't clear earlier, you're my first—my first, um, everything. It's always... only been you." He pauses and then blinks and looks down for a second. His hand squeezes mine. "And I'd be really, really fucking happy to find out all the benefits of having a physical therapist for a... boyfriend."

It is right. It's right and good and everything I want.

I set my free hand on his bare chest, feeling his heart racing under my palm. And then I nod and stretch up to kiss him.

"You'll feel better when I'm done, and then, we can pick back up where we left off." He groans as my hand slips down and caresses over the bulge still constrained in his briefs. "Sound good?"

"Ahh, yeah, yeah. Fuck, yeah."