Code Word (The Atrous Series Book 3), page 19
“The rest of my life,” I replied quietly. His eyes met mine and I smiled for him. “Every day for the rest of my life, Luke. It’s yours if you want it.”
His smile was sweet and shy, and he blushed. But he began to strum his guitar before morphing into a haunting melody.
Long and lonely nights
Flights to I don’t know where
It’s three a.m. and your head’s on my shoulder
I wanna stay like that, like that forever
I’m dreaming with my eyes wide open
Wishin’ this was real
You’re in hotel rooms sleeping
I’m in city streets walking
Trying not to think of you
Tokyo lights
Sao Paulo sights
City streets walking
Trying not to think of you
Midnight in London
Walking in the rain
Hiding the tears falling
Hiding the pain
When you’re in hotel rooms not sleeping
And I’m in city streets walking
Trying not to think of you
What it is you do
When you’re not sleeping and I’m out walking
Trying not to think of you
New York City in winter
Tell me you remember
When you fell asleep, your head on my shoulder
He stopped strumming and let out a teary laugh. “That’s all I’ve got. I can’t finish it without crying.” He laughed again. “Fuck. Do you remember New York? It was so fucking cold, and you had on that big black coat, and you wrapped me up in it?”
“I remember,” I whispered.
His eyes were glassy. “It almost killed me. You were so warm, and you smelled so good. I was so fucking tired, and you held me so tight. But then you left me and went and hooked up with some chick.”
Fuck.
I swung my legs off the lounger, and trying to not use my stupid leg, I scooted over to his chair, collected him up in a hug, and lay back down with him in my arms.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, kissing the top of his head.
“It’s not your fault,” he mumbled. “I have ten years’ worth of these songs, ten years of stories just like that. It’s not your fault if you didn’t know. I was too chickenshit to tell you.”
“You weren’t chickenshit about anything. You were being strong, dealing with all of that on your own. And dealing with being bisexual while Maddox copped all that queer hate, and then Jeremy figured his shit out. You must have felt like you were so alone.”
“I felt like I could never come out, like I could never admit it,” he whispered. “Because of what they went through. I never said anything, and then the longer it went on, the harder it was. I tried to ignore it. I really did. I tried to pretend that part of me didn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters,” I said, holding him a little bit tighter.
“I was drowning in guilt,” he added. “Being with Vana when I was so in love with someone else. And to see you with Becca. I felt like I was losing my mind. And then you and Bec went away together and, I dunno, something in me broke. I lost it. All I could think about was you with her and how it should have been me, if I hadn’t been so fucking scared.”
I squeezed him and kissed his head. “No, baby.”
He laugh-cried. “Then you came back and wanted to take me to the cabins, and my god. I thought I could do it. I thought I could handle it, but . . .” He groaned as if he felt ill. “Sleeping next to you that night, it almost killed me. God, I was dying inside.”
“See? Dying. Gaunt, pitiful, and dying. I told you it was a thing.”
He snorted, and I pulled back so he was on his back, me on my side so I could see his face. I kissed him softly. “Never again. I’ll never make you cry again. Or feel sad or so bad you feel like you’re drowning. Never, Luke. I swear it. I love you.”
He smiled, teary-eyed. “Happy tears, okay?”
“I’ll allow that.”
Smiling now, he scanned my eyes. “I love you so fucking much.”
I kissed him again, lingering a little longer before it got the better of me. “Okay, so disclaimer. I said I’ll never do a lot of things, and I mean that. Never is a promise, and I don’t break promises. But there’s a good chance I probably will make you mad at some point. But as my best friend, you know what you’re getting yourself into, right? I’m sure there’s a mea culpa clause or something.”
He laughed and put his hand to my face. “Believe me, I know exactly.” He pulled me in for a kiss. “Now, I do seem to recall something you said earlier about maybe watching some porn.”
A jolt of something hot and delicious burst through my blood—
“Hola? Hello? It’s just me,” Alma called out from inside. “I cooked you some dinner.”
Luke shot up so fast—like we’d just been busted by our mothers—that I almost fell face-first onto the lounge chair.
“Oh, hi,” Luke said, going inside to meet her. “You didn’t have to do that . . . Oh wow, it smells amazing.”
“How’s Blake’s knee?” I heard her ask.
His knee would feel a lot better if we weren’t interrupted just now.
I got up and limped to the door, trying not to put too much weight on my knee. “Hi,” I said. “My knee’s okay. I just have to take it easy for a day or two. It’s not that bad.”
“Oh good, good,” she said. “You use that ointment, okay?” She didn’t give me time to reply. She turned to Luke. “You make him use it. I won’t keep you. Just wanted to make sure you were both okay.”
“Thank you, Alma,” he replied. “You’re too sweet.” He walked her to the door, and she whispered something to him, and they both chuckled before she gave me a wave and left.
Luke came back in, grinning. “She’s so lovely. Even if it does kinda feel like Mom’s right next door.”
“Did she really cook something for us?” I asked, limping over to the kitchen. “That is super sweet.”
“Take it easy on your leg,” he said, brushing my arm as he walked past. “I’ll just tidy up out here.”
He brought the tray in first as I was about to sneak a taste of the queso fundido. Instead, I held the fork out for him, and the smile he gave me . . .
It made me want to do things for him all the time.
I found some plates and dished up his dinner first, as he brought his guitar and phone inside. “So I was thinking,” I said as I began plating up mine. “Dinner first, because this is amazing. Then I’m gonna tackle those stairs, take a shower, and if you’re still interested, we could maybe check out some porn.”
Luke laughed. “Fuck yes, I’m interested.”
I walked gingerly back into the bedroom, wearing boxers, my knee bandage in hand. Luke was there, lying on the bed with his laptop and his phone, looking a little nervous.
And hot.
I wasn’t sure when that started to happen, him being hot. He’d always been good-looking and sexy, but now he was hot. I was attracted to him.
Maybe realizing that what I felt for him was actually love was when I started seeing him in a different light . . .
“You okay?”
I hadn’t realized I’d zoned out. “Oh, sure. Just trying to remember exactly when I started thinking of you as hot. Good-looking, yes. Funny, yes. Smart, talented, yes. But hot? Hot is new.”
He laughed and patted the bed. “Park yourself and I’ll wrap your knee.”
I sat on the bed, resting against the headboard, and Luke fetched the ointment.
“Ugh, really? Not sure that smell is conducive for porn-watching.”
He chuckled but proceeded to rub it into my knee. “It helps with healing, though.” Then he carefully wound the bandage around my knee, his touch gentle but firm. “How does it feel after the stairs? Need a pain pill?”
I shook my head. “Nope.”
He smiled before he crawled off the bed. “Need to wash my hands.”
He kept the bathroom door open so I knew he could hear me. “What were you watching?” His laptop screen was paused, two men frozen on screen. They were shirtless, jeans far too tight. “Is the tall guy really a plumber or is that a wrench in his pocket?”
Luke stood in the doorway, drying his hands, smirking. “Why do I feel like this is going to end badly?”
I gestured to the screen. “Is this the first thing you found, or is it bookmarked? Do you have favorites? Do you have a plumber fetish?”
He tossed the hand towel into the bathroom and walked over. “Shut up.” He crawled up the bed to sit beside me, resting against the headboard. “I have a few favorites, but I thought I’d start you off on something for beginners.”
I snorted. “Beginners?”
“I didn’t want to scare you off.”
“I’m not scared of plumbers.”
He elbowed me with a laugh, then pulled the laptop onto our laps and pressed play. “If you wanna stop watching, it’s totally fine. If it’s not for you, it’s no big deal. I don’t want to rush you.”
“Shhh.” I put my finger to my lips. “The plumber is telling him which pipe needs fixing. The plot is very important.”
Luke sighed and skipped ahead a few minutes and suddenly the two men onscreen were kissing. Mouths open and probing tongues, hands gripping, bodies pressed together.
“Oh, that escalated quickly,” I said. And then the plumber was pushing the client down on a bed and undoing his jeans so he could pull out his cock and start stroking. They never stopped kissing. They never stopped touching, their breaths fraught, their bodies desperate. It was slow and sensual.
It was intimate.
It was . . . hot.
Was I leaning a bit closer to Luke? Was I getting hard? Was he? I wanted to feel his dick in my hand, but for some reason, I was too nervous to move first.
Fuck.
He put his hand on my thigh, and without thinking, I grabbed his fingers and brought his palm to my dick.
“I’m really glad you’re not scared of plumbers,” he said.
“Shut up,” I murmured, trying to roll my hips, to feel more, needing more.
He understood and slid his hand under my waistband and wrapped his fingers around my cock. His grip was hot and hard and enough to wipe my brain, so it took me a second to realize that I should do the same.
I fumbled to get my hand in his shorts and around his dick, and he arched his back and groaned. “Fuck,” he breathed.
The head of his cock slipped through my fist, his slit leaking precome and slicking us both.
The guys on screen were now fucking, missionary, kissing and clawing, balls deep, and holy fuck, I needed . . . that.
I shut the laptop and pushed it off our legs, letting go of his cock.
“What are you doing?” he asked, panicked.
“I don’t want to watch them,” I said, getting up on my good knee. I pulled him down the bed, spread his legs, and planted myself between them. “I want to watch you.”
His breath left him in a rush, his mouth open, his eyes wide and wanting.
“You’re so fucking hot,” I whispered before I crashed my mouth to his. I needed to taste his tongue. I needed to feel his body, his touch, his strength, his everything.
His hands raked over my body, rough and strong, his blunt fingernails digging into my skin. His tongue in my mouth, the roll of his hips, the hardness of his cock. The way our bodies melded, pressed, and rocked together, the heat between us, the energy, the passion. Like if someone threw in a match, we’d burst into flames.
It was primal and masculine and so fucking good.
It had never been like this for me, not with anyone. I’d had a lot of sex with a lot of women—like, a lot—but this . . . this was so different.
It wasn’t because he was a man.
It was because it was Luke.
Because I loved him.
I broke the kiss and trailed my mouth down his jaw, down his neck. The stubble, his scent, his hands now in my hair. The sounds he made, obscene and guttural, lit me up like gunpowder in my bones.
“Oh fuck,” he whined. “Blake, oh god.”
The sound of my name whispered like that . . .
I leaned on one elbow and slid my other hand between us, finding his cock and sliding it against mine the way he’d done before. The jolt of pleasure was so intense, but it didn’t compare to watching his face—his swollen lips, pink nose, flushed cheeks, dark eyes, and heavy lids.
“So beautiful,” I murmured. “I want to watch your face when you come.”
His whole body trembled, and he pushed his head back, his neck corded as he arched up, his cock pulsing in my fist. The pleasure on his face, the intensity, the bliss . . . oh, so perfect.
He spilled come between us, his cock throbbing against mine, and he cried out.
Holy fuck.
Flames of pleasure ripped through me, hot and fast, consuming all of me. I came with just a few strokes, my seed mixing with his on his chest. The noise I made didn’t even sound like me.
I collapsed on top of him with a cry. My skin felt sensitive all over, my bones made out of sponge.
And my knee.
I could feel the ache start to kick in.
“You survive?” Luke asked with a laugh.
I still could barely speak. “No. Am dead.”
“That was so fucking hot.”
“Can’t talk. Am dead.” Jesus, I could barely lift my head enough to prop it up on my hand or keep my eyes open. “What did you do to me?”
He laughed again. “I was gonna ask you the same thing.”
“We definitely need to watch more of that plumber show. We didn’t get far.”
He chuckled and began to roll us over. “We need to get cleaned up.”
“Wait, my knee,” I said, trying to get situated, favoring my stupid leg while he untangled us.
“Oh shit. Is it okay?”
“Mm, it’s okay,” I said, kinda holding my leg up a bit. “Totally worth any subsequent pain. Zero regrets. Will definitely do again.”
Luke laughed, pulled his shorts up, and rolled off the bed. “I’ll get a washcloth.”
He came back a few seconds later with a warm washcloth and cleaned me up while I lay there feeling all blissed out and heavy. When he was done, I pulled him down onto the bed and into my arms.
He fit so perfectly, his head on my shoulder, his arms around me.
“Sleep,” I murmured. “Just like this.”
“M’kay,” he whispered.
I closed my eyes, the happiest I ever remembered being.
SIXTEEN
I woke up half expecting Luke to be out of bed. But he wasn’t. He was on his stomach, arms splayed, the sunrise casting beams across his back, golden skin, and tousled hair.
His eyelashes, stubble, and pouting lips . . .
My heart bloomed at the sight of him. Utter perfection.
It made me feel giddy. Which was the most ridiculous thing ever. And I had the burning urge to hold him, snuggle in, and never let him go.
I wanted to touch him forever.
He opened his eyes, barely, saw me watching him, and cracked a smile. He mumbled something I didn’t quite catch. So freaking adorable.
“Stay here,” I said, leaning in to kiss his forehead. “I’m gonna cook us breakfast.”
I don’t know why I suggested that. I was hungry, sure. But I had a sudden and strong urge to do things for him. All the things. Everything.
I wanted to make him happy.
I got out of bed, testing my knee. It was actually pretty good. So I took a pit stop in the bathroom first, pulled on some boardshorts, then took the stairs one careful and slow step at a time.
I made us coffee first, found some eggs and bacon, and opened the patio doors to let in the fresh morning salt air and the sounds of birds and waves.
Is this what love is?
I felt so ridiculous. Like a freaking Disney princess. Except I was a Disney princess that sucked at cooking. The bacon was a bit too crispy, the sunny-side-up eggs became scrambled eggs in the pan, and the toast was mistimed.
But Luke came down, walked straight up to me for a hug. He was still sleepy and so fucking cute. “Smells good.”
“I wanted it to be perfect,” I said. “But—”
“It’s all perfect,” he said, picking up a piece of bacon and biting into it.
I held a piece of toast up to his mouth and he bit into that too, smiling. Then he sipped his coffee and studied me for a second. “What?” he asked. “You’re looking at me weird.”
I shook my head, feeling all kinds of stupid. “I fucking love you,” I said. “It’s absurd, being this happy. Like honestly, what the fuck.”
He laughed, his cheeks pink. “It doesn’t feel real.”
“Well, it is,” I said with complete certainty. “Now, eat your cremated bacon and cold toast.”
He snorted. “Ah, there’s the reality.”
We ate between shy smiles, and damn, if that giddy feeling didn’t go away.
“What did you want to do today?” he asked as we finished cleaning up.
“I want to sit out on the patio and write songs with you.”
He grinned, his gaze holding mine for a beat. “Sounds good. How’s your knee feeling?”
“It’s feeling a bit better. Another day of rest will do it good. Maybe we could look at some real estate websites.”
He nodded slowly; a flicker of uncertainty flashed across his face. “Here or back home?”
I shrugged. “Both. I dunno. I want to have both. With you.”
Now he smiled, heading to the stairs. “Okay. I’ll get my laptop.”
“Can you grab my phone too, please?” I asked. “It’s . . . somewhere up there, I think I plugged it in.”
I was carrying his guitar out to the patio when he came downstairs. I planted myself on the lounge chair as he dumped his laptop and our phones, his notebook, and pen.
“Thanks.”
He went for a quick swim in the ocean and came back with wet hair and droplets of water running down his skin. He was a sight to behold.
I was strumming on his guitar, and he grinned as he fell onto his chair.
