“You can trust me,” I say, securing the metal teeth on the bandage.
“It’s a lot to ask.”
“So is keeping your secrets.”
“You don’t know my secrets.”
“I know what I think I know, and that’s plenty.”
“And what do you think you know?”
The last few hours I’ve been staring at Sean’s ceiling sorting through his subtle teachings of the last six weeks. He incorporated the ‘club’s’ beliefs into our courting and did so in the most effective of ways, spoon-feeding me until I knew what they collectively stood for, without directly coming out and saying it.
“That you’re high up in an organization of backroads’ misfits who do bad deeds to carry out good ones.”
I’m not at all surprised when my answer is silence.
“So, what happens now?”
He reads my question, and it has nothing to do with tonight’s discovery.
“I’m not Sean.”
“Meaning?”
“I don’t do these talks.” He drains his beer as I secure the teeth a little tighter on his bandage. “But I could use a shower.” I’m not sure what he’s implying. He clearly needs my help undressing due to the injury, but I’m unwilling to go any further until I figure out what I need to.
He stands and awkwardly grabs another beer from the fridge. He uses the edge of the counter to pop off the cap and downs it like water before moving toward the stairs, and timidly I follow. Once inside his room, I glance around taking advantage of the peek into his world. Hundreds of books line the shelves next to his fully loaded space station with giant monitors. Next to it on a small table are three charging laptops. The pained grunt echoing from the next room deters me from taking more of a curious look around, and I meet him where he stands in the bathroom toeing off his boots. He bends to rip his sock off and loses his footing, his beer bottle clinking against the counter as he tries to brace himself. I laugh, steadying his hips with my hands, and between our efforts, he remains upright. He gives me a lazy half-smile, his eyes going glassy. “Fuck, my left hand really needs my right.”
“I’m sure the alcohol you sucked down didn’t help. We should have iced it first,” I free him from his other sock.
“It can wait until morning.”
“It really shouldn’t.”
“Cecelia,” he expels a breath that’s more like a plea, and I concede. I’m just as exhausted and wish my mind would let me sleep.
Moving in behind him, I unfasten his skinny jeans and tug them down his muscular thighs along with his briefs, before I circle him to remove his T-shirt. He gazes at me wordlessly and I turn on the shower, holding my hand in the spray, he snakes his good arm around me, lifting my shirt to stroke the skin of my stomach.
“Thank you. I’m good now. If you want to go.”
The touch is sensual, sweet, and in reply, I lift my T-shirt off. His eyes flare as he drinks me in bare. It’s our first time being alone and naked since we had sex, and I can’t tear my eyes away. But I have to, so I turn my back on him and rest my head in the crook of his shoulder as the water warms. Once it’s ready, he releases me, and we step inside. I tilt the faucet head, so most of the water pours over his body. I’ve already had my shower.
With another man, Cecelia. His roommate and best friend.
This cannot and will not end well. Unless I believe Sean, unless I believe them both. Too many wheels spin in my head and I decide to let them fly off, along with my lingering questions about the meetup as I suds up his loofah and begin to wash him from head to toe. Taking my time, I start at his chest and work my way down, unable to avoid the sight of his dick when it springs to life. My core begins to ache at the memory of our earlier exchange in his Camaro, my nipple in his mouth, his head slowly working as I clutched him to me.
“Sean was my third,” I look at him pointedly. “That makes you my fourth. Before the two of you, I was in two separate and monogamous relationships, which may seem boring to you, but…” I shake my head. “Anyway, my point is, I don’t sleep around. And that day…I’ve never done anything like that. I’ve never been in this position. I’m a one at a time type of girl.”
Silence. The bastard is not going to make this easy on me.
“I know it seems hypocritical, but if you are sleeping around, I can’t,” I gesture between us. “I’m not…I don’t think I can do this.”