Page 95 of Dear Mr. Brody

I scooted closer, resting my cheek on his chest. My hand splayed over his abs, my load drying on our skin. “You didn’t say too much. I’m processing.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

I gently slapped his stomach and he laughed. “Let me think. My brain is all fuzzy. I just came harder than I ever have in my life.”

“Really?”

I pinched him this time and he swore. “Yes, really.” It was quiet and I would have bet money if I sat up, I might’ve seen Van’s first-ever smug smile. I took a deep breath and tried to assemble everything I wanted to say. “That big feeling…” His fingers trailed over my skin and along my spine. Back and forth. Lulling me into a place of contentment, a place of safety I’d never had before. “I have it too. In so many ways.”

“How do you mean?”

“I’ve never really had a serious boyfriend before. A serious anything. You’ve given me that. All of it. Today, when I met with Anders, you know what he said?”

“What did he say?”

The tips of his fingers continued to move, mapping every line, every sharp edge as I spoke. It made it easier to be honest. “He told me I was too green. That my prose was all over the place, and that at times I could be over the top.”

“Shit. Parker, I—”

“No… listen. He told me I had a lot of growing to do, but underneath all the chaos… I was a shining light.”A shining light. My throat felt thick. “He told me I had more talent in one sentence than some authors have in an entire novel, but I had to learn how to craft a story. He told me…” I inhaled the scent of Van’s skin, loving how it mixed with the smell of our sex. “He told me… You believe in me… and that it was rare for you to put yourself on the line like you have for me. He told me that he trusts you. And that he wants to help me meet my potential.”

“He said that?”

I raised up onto my elbow and stared down at him. I cataloged the curve of his lip, the dip of his nose. “He did. And it terrifies me. I want to be everything you think I am, Van. I want to be worthy of your trust. And it might sound stupid, because it’s just sex, but it felt like you trusted me. It was more than a promise of words.”

“Youareworthy.” He cupped my cheek, and I leaned into the touch.

“Am I? Everything since I’ve met you feels unreal.”

“You are… When I told Anne about you, she said she’s never seen me this happy. She’s a kid, but she sees it, sees us.”

“Anne is pretty smart,” I said, smiling like an idiot.

“The smartest.” He touched and traced my lips. “You don’t have to be everything, Parker. You’re already amazing. You’re enough, as you are.”

“As I am.”

“Yeah.” He sat up, holding his weight with his palm as he kissed me.

It was tender and rough and overwhelming. Everything between us spun, all the pieces we’d handed to each other. It was immense and surreal, but underneath all the chaos there was a shining light. Me and him. And I was enough. I was enough.

Donovan

We both smiled at each other in the mirror, toothpaste covering our lips as we brushed our teeth. The morning sun filtered in through the bathroom window, muted by the opaque glass. Getting to wake up next to Parker after last night had made for one of the best mornings of my life. His warm skin under my palm, the soft golden hair on his arms beneath my fingertips. I’d thought I’d been dreaming, thought everything that had happened, everything we’d shared had been something I’d conjured up. But he was here. Here with me in my bed, his smell on my sheets. Here with me in this bathroom, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief as we both stood there unapologetically nude. Our reflections explicit. His skin marked by my teeth, mine by his nails. We’d fucked again this morning, half-awake and groggy in the shower. Parker had given himself to me, given me his trust and his patience, and God, I was falling. Falling for him. For this. The idea of sunny mornings, and eager lips, and shared glances. I wanted this. I wanted to give myself to him, even if it scared me, even if I wasn’t sure if I could take it. I wanted to try. For him.

“Stop it,” he said, his voice muffled around his toothbrush. He leaned down and spit into the sink. Raising his eyes, he stared at me through the mirror as he turned on the faucet. “Stop thinking so hard or you’ll ruin our postcoital buzz.”

“Our what?” I asked, leaning down. I spit into my own sink, chuckling as I turned on the faucet. “I swear, some of the things you say…”

We both rinsed and spit again. It was all very domesticated. It made me smile.

He rested his hip against the counter and faced me. I tried, unsuccessfully, not to look at his dick. When I lifted my gaze, I was met with a self-assured smile. He ran his hand over his abs, his stomach muscles contracting, and if he didn’t have things to do today, I’d never let him leave this house. Or get dressed. His body was art.

“Now Ihaveto know what you’re thinking,” he said, and I rubbed the back of my neck.

Of course, my face flushed.

“I wish you didn’t have to leave so soon.” I took a step toward him. “If I could, I’d figure out a way to keep you here all day.” One more step and my hand was on his hip. I couldn’t get enough of the way his skin seemed to make my own tingle. Smiling, I said, “I liked waking up next to you.”