Pieces of Us (Missing Pieces #3) - N.R. Walker Page 0,45

is amazing.”

I laughed at that.

“You were inside me, after you finished, and you got me off,” he added.

I kissed the side of his head. “I know what you like, baby.”

He went to move and had to unpeel our skin. “Uh, we’re stuck.”

I laughed. “Shower time.” I got out of bed and helped him to his feet. “How do you feel?”

“I feel good. Tired, but that’s nothing new.”

“How about a hot shower, toasted sandwiches for dinner, and we hit the couch for whatever’s left of the footy?”

“Sounds good.”

After a quick scrub clean, Juss made toasted ham and cheese sandwiches, I stripped and remade the bed, and we caught the last twenty minutes of footy. Well, I did. Juss was asleep about ten seconds in.

Justin did improve over the weekend. He took it easy, never pushing himself, and every day since his most recent hospital stay, he got stronger. By Monday, he was feeling pretty good. He’d spoken to his sister a few times about their mother, and Becca was totally cool with Juss’ decision to cut their mother from his life. Actually, Bec was one more snide comment from cutting her out too. It wasn’t as though their mother was a huge part in their lives anyway, but Bec was sick of the toxicity as well.

It had been a long time coming and helped Juss feel better about the whole thing. He adored Bec and she him, and even though she lived two hours away, her support was an important part of his overall recovery.

Not just his recovery from his stress-induced meltdown, but his recovery overall.

And so was work. After a week off, he was itching to get his hands dirty. Monday morning he came out wearing his work overalls and boots, grinning. “Hey, boss.”

I chuckled into my coffee, because Juss never smiled in the morning. “Keen to get back to work?” He was only going to do a few hours, just to see how he felt.

“Keen as mustard.”

I snorted and handed him his coffee. “Toast?”

“Let me make it for you,” he said, sipping his coffee, then threw some bread into the toaster.

He really was in a good mood. “Thanks, baby.”

He came in for a long hug while the toast cooked. “It’s gonna be a good week.”

“I think so too,” I said. God, I hoped so. “The guys won’t recognise the office.” I’d spent most of the weekend cleaning and clearing shit out. Juss helped but mostly just sat on the desk and supervised.

“And Toni starts on Wednesday?” he asked as he buttered the toast.

“Yep.”

He slathered on some Vegemite and handed me a piece. “And the hoist rep is coming today?”

“Yep.”

He grinned. “It’s gonna be a good week.”

My God, it did ridiculously crazy things to my heart to see him so happy. “In case I haven’t told you enough lately, I love you.”

He laughed as he ate. “You have, but you can keep telling me. Love you too.” He sipped his coffee, still smiling. “And because I’m feeling good, and if things stay good, you get to dick me properly.”

I almost choked on my coffee. I coughed and spluttered and he patted me on the back, that cheeky grin in full effect. “The doc said a week, and you promised.”

“I promised?” I didn’t recall a promise.

“Yesterday, when I had your dick in my mouth, you said you couldn’t wait to fuck me. I said, ‘Promise?’ And you said, ‘Promise.’”

My mouth fell open. Okay, I think I remembered that conversation, but God help me, I would have said anything when he was teasing me with his tongue. “You can’t use anything I said under duress. That’s not fair.”

He laughed. “You promised, Dall.”

I pinched his chin and drew him in for another kiss. “You don’t play fair.”

He smiled as he finished his toast. “It’s gonna be such a good week.”

The sales rep with the hoists was a guy named Connor. He was a decent sort of bloke, a bit confident, but he knew his stuff. He brought with him two types of hoist, one standard model and one higher-end. He showed us all the bells and whistles and explained work safety and ergonomics and all that salesman spiel.

“If you’ve got a bike we could demonstrate with . . .” he said.

The two client bikes we had in store were both on stands, one without a tyre and one without its handlebars. Not that I would have been comfortable using a client’s bike anyway.

“What about mine?” Justin said, nodding to his bike in the