Pretty Boy (Perfect Boys #1) - K.M. Neuhold Page 0,62
when I was sixteen like I wanted to. Let’s fuck now.”
For some reason, this is funnier than it should be. I giggle a bit at the stern, concerned look that would no doubt be written all over his face. It only takes a few seconds for the giggles to turn to a sob, a few more tears falling as I think back to that night, holed up in the bathroom with a pair of kitchen scissors clutched tight in my hand, taunts I’d heard all day long at school filling my head. They said if they looked like me, they’d kill themselves, and at the time I thought maybe they were right. What did an ugly boy like me have to live for?
I wrap my arms around myself and take deep breaths until I manage to stop crying quite so hard. At the time I thought I was a coward when I lifted the scissors to my wrist and didn’t manage to do nothing with them. But maybe I was strong. They said they’d’ve killed themselves if they were me…well, maybe I was stronger than any of them. I was strong enough to keep going.
That realization settles over me in a thick, heavy blanket, comforting part of my soul that needs soothing the most and mending a few parts back together that’ve been badly cracked.
I set the book down and stand up, pulling my shirt up to wipe my face clean of all the tears before going in search of Barrett.
Barrett
It’s obvious Sterling’s been crying when he shuffles into the living room to stand in front of me. I reach for the remote to turn off the tv, so I can give him my full attention. My heart aches at the sight of his puffy, red eyes and tear stained cheeks. I want to pull him into my arms and tell him he doesn’t have to come up with a compliment; he doesn’t have to do anything that’s going to make him cry like this. I want to kiss each tear away individually and replace them with my favorite look of shy joy, like he’s not sure he’s allowed to be quite so happy.
“I thought of somethin’,” he announces, holding his head up high and surprising me with a look of confidence I haven’t seen in his eyes before. Defiance, sure, but not confidence.
I pat my lap, and he doesn’t hesitate before climbing on, one leg on either side of mine, his hands braced against my chest. He sniffles, and I lean forward to kiss one damp cheek and then the other.
“Tell me, sweetheart,” I encourage him, putting my hands on his thighs to ground him, so he knows I’m right here for him.
“I’m strong. I coulda given up a long time ago, but I kept fightin’.”
I squeeze his thighs and kiss his cheeks again and then his forehead. “You are strong,” I agree. “And beautiful and smart,” I add. “Even though I know you can’t say those ones out loud just yet.”
He shakes his head and clenches his eyes closed. He’s trembling just enough that it almost feels like he might come apart at any second if I don’t hold him together. So, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Sweeping him into my arms, I stand up from the couch, carrying him out of the living room and up the steps to our bedroom.
He hangs on tight, burying his face into the crook of my neck and making muffled, sad little sounds that grow slightly more frantic until I feel his lips against my skin. He kisses the side of my neck, my throat, the hard edge of my jaw, my chin, and finally my lips. I can taste the salty tears on his mouth as I part my lips to kiss him back, soft and needy at the same time, keeping one eye open so I don’t run into a wall on my way to the bedroom.
Sterling makes a breathless sound against my lips as I lower him onto the bed, my muscles barely straining under the weight of him. He’s my perfect boy in every way—petite enough to carry, but sturdy enough not to break, sweeter than hell but with a sassy mouth and set of claws when he needs them, needy in just the right way. I couldn’t have dreamed a more perfect man, and yet here he is in my arms, in my bed, moaning Daddy against my lips as I deftly unbutton his