8. Chapter 8

Iwake up sweating with an electric blanket strangling me.

It's Von.

He's wrapped around me as if worried I'll get away.

I don't hate it. Not. One. Bit.

If I had my way, he'd wake up, and I'd devour him.

Then the full impact of yesterday hits me. Madyson, my ex, Jayce, and Von. The end of the conversation with Madyson and Jayce is a blur. I'm almost positive I didn't take a swing at Jayce. Almost. I blacked out.

In most circumstances, I appreciate how protective he is over Madyson. But I'd never hurt her. I'm the person who's had her back since the day we met in middle school. It's not my job to explain to him all the ways he's an idiot for his possessive behavior when it comes to me and Mads. He can't protect her from her own actions.

She had no business hurling my past at me when I specifically told her I didn't want to hear it. We agreed a long time ago that the past stays in the past. I know she doesn't want me dredging up hers.

Today, I'm supposed to spend the afternoon moving art in the gallery, forcing us to talk. I know she had good intentions, but I'm not discussing it.

I wish I hadn't told Von the details of my past, but he's so easy to talk to. My nightmare loosened my tongue and everything that I was holding in spewed out. Not my finest moment.

I can't erase Von's memory of our conversation, so I might as well indulge in the view.

Miles of long legs tangle with mine. Von's muscles are well-defined. I'd asked if he played hockey, but he doesn't have the bulk of most players. Still, his body screams athlete. His T-shirt has ridden up to reveal carved abs that can't be accomplished without daily workouts. His quads are granite. Lightly tracing the curve of his muscle, I love his strength caging me.

His silky hair spreads out over both our pillows, and I play with a lock between my fingers. Blond hair will be in my dreams forever. Von's low brow is relaxed, so his entire face has a boyish quality to it. His eyebrows are so light they're shadows. He's so beautiful it's a relief to notice that his top lip is too thin. He has a physical imperfection. Of course his bottom lip is thick and begging me to bite it.

What would happen if I bit it? My mind plays out dirty fantasies until I picture him walking away from me in Pink Titanium. Part of me is embarrassed that he knows the shallow promise of a good time is my type. There's nothing wrong with finding pleasure in another person as long as we're both consenting adults with no expectations.

As much as my dick doesn't approve, maybe we're better off as friends.

My phone is filled with friends that I've never had a meaningful conversation with. Von pushes me into meaningful conversations, and I willingly participate where I wouldn't with other people. He's someone who could easily fit in my inner circle of friends.

Von left me when I wanted him but showed up when I needed him most, and I spilled parts of my past. He took care of me in one of my worst moments, but it was too easy for him to walk away. He's an oxymoron.

I mentally facepalm because he's not interested in me or even in sex with me.

Last night, we joked about his ability to keep secrets—he's not a man who reveals other people's business. My past came back to eat me alive, and I had to rid myself of it.

I don't normally trust people. Madyson, Cole, and his deceased husband Pax were the exception, but it's still hard. Shane's a friend, but trust is different.

I spent too much of my youth closeted and never knowing if someone would turn on me once they found out I'm gay.

Von may or may not like me, but I believe he's trustworthy. It's strange to want to fuck him so badly and care how he thinks of me. After my ex, I never cared if the guys I fucked liked me. At first, I was numb and looking to lose myself in pleasure, and now I never want to feel responsible for someone again.

Expectations are the downfall of relationships.

Von's right, I'm not responsible for someone else's decisions, but it's not that simple. I never want to emotionally hurt someone so they'd physically harm themselves or worse. It's less complicated to keep sex casual. The few times I tried to date were disastrous.

I'm not boyfriend material.

And I'm not willing to divulge all my past. I told Von more than most. Not a soul, living or dead, knows the whole story, and I don't plan on telling anyone.

I close my eyes and imagine Von on his hands and knees with his hair wrapped around my fist as I pound into him from behind. Stifling my groan, I let the pleasure-soaked daydream play out in my mind and let it go. For good.

Von isn't into me and maybe I need a friend more than I need another fuck.

Maybe he could help me process what happened a decade ago. I thought I'd gotten over it, moved on. The guilt and pain were just under the surface, and Madyson punched me right back to the night I found out my ex died. She should've kept her run-in with Jessica to herself.

Von's warm body is comforting. It's hard to extricate myself from the simple pleasure of contact. I can't remember being the little spoon. Ever. One more minute and I'll leave so we don't have to do the awkward morning after dance. Not that it's the same as after sex but still awkward. He's not a talker, so he could regret discussing his friend.

I nuzzle his chest and inhale for the last time. He smells fresh like sea air and something I can't distinguish but is comforting.

"Did you sniff me?" His voice is full of amusement, and I refuse to look at him.

"Yeah, I'm thinking of making a new cologne called Viking, and I want to get it right."

"I better get half the profits," he says, and my mouth falls open at his joke.

My head is still on his chest, and I'm surprised he hasn't pulled away. Not that I'm complaining.

"Nah, on second thought, I don't think anyone will buy it. Who wants to smell like a sweating tower of stench." I scrunch my nose and angle my head so he can see me.

"Oh, in that case…" Von picks me up and pitches me onto the floor. "I don't share my bed with disrespectful dicks." He leans over the side, grinning down at me.

His blue eyes aren't icy today. They're a calm ocean, begging me to swim in them. Von only speaks when he has something to say. I already know there's so much more going on in his head than he's willing to share. The opposite of me but with the same objective. I use lots of words but rarely have serious conversations because I don't trust people with things they could use against me. But the playful side of Von fascinates me.

"I hope you don't ever have an old dick in your bed—you could break his hip." I make a point of rubbing my ass to deflect from the fact that his strength impresses me.

The sound of Von's laughter fills the entire room, tumbling down the back of my throat as if it's mine too. He has laugh lines.

Von has laugh lines. Never would've believed that. An excited bubble forms in my chest, uncovering this secret about him. The serious Viking smiles and laughs.

Von swings his long legs off the bed and over me. "Coffee?"

I'd intended to sneak out before this, but now I can't bring myself to leave. "I'll have what you're having."

"You asked for it." Von strides into the kitchen in his boxers and T-shirt. He said he has tattoos but I can't see them. It's not fair that he got to see my body, but I wasn't in my right mind to see his.

I'm overdressed in his hoodie and sweatpants, sitting at the island while he grinds the coffee.

"Coffee is life in Sweden, and it's an important part of the day to meet friends and enjoy a cup," he says, and his arm muscle movements are mesmerizing.

I must be broken, watching his arm muscles. That's such a sappy thing to be turned on by. No other guy can compare to him. Last night, I exposed my underbelly. I'm not giving him more ammunition with my attraction to him.

"I'm in it for the caffeine." Twisting on my stool to annoy him, figuring out a way back to our antagonizing banter so I don't do something stupid such as trying to sleep with him for real.

"You're in for a disappointment, then. We drink for flavor and friendship, not caffeine."

It takes half a lifetime for him to prepare the coffee, and the silence is killing me. Finally, he hands me a mug.

"I'm never going to Sweden. Caffeine's crucial for my winning personality." I smile at him over the mug, and he stares at me blankly for a few beats.

Von shakes his head. "Sweden would not know what to do with you."

"I'm sure a few guys could figure it out."

Von grimaces and I don't know what to do with that reaction.

"I'm not that complicated," I say defensively.

"I don't think you give yourself enough credit for your depth." Von takes a sip of coffee and groans. "American coffee cannot compare."

I'm tempted to make a joke about my depth or his, but the normalcy this conversation stops me. As though we're actually friends and I don't need to be embarrassed that the man had to rescue me from the rainstorm and the emotional storm raging inside me.

I have three and a half people in my life that I can count on. Maybe I'm up to four. Cole, Madyson, and Shane love me. Jayce is reliable because Madyson might castrate him if he ever left me hanging.

Von has a quiet steadiness to him that I believe he'd be a rock for me. So I stay, and we make small talk concerning the weather, the auction, his art, my tattoo shop, and whatever else pops into our heads.

I hear my phone in the other room, and according to the clock on the stove, we've been talking for a couple of hours. Light streams in through his floor-to-ceiling windows.

"I should go. I'm going to have to talk to Mads, and I'd rather do it before anyone else is there." I head to the bedroom for my phone. "Do you mind if I wear this today? I'll wash it and return it. My clothes are still damp." I nudge the soggy pile with my foot.

"Madyson will know you're wearing my clothes." He motions to the logos that I've never seen before. It's probably a Swedish brand that Mads has seen him wear.

"I won't kiss and tell." I laugh at the way his lips form a straight line. "I mean, if you don't mind."

"It's fine," Von says, his bitable lip taunting me.