walk with him by my side instead of striding out in the lead.
He’s patient, just waiting. There’s no rush, no hurry, no persuasion. He doesn’t awkwardly withdraw the gesture, doesn’t push it either, letting me know any decision made will be mine.
Gingerly, I place my smaller palm in his, feeling the warmth of his skin gently cradling mine. He doesn’t squeeze, doesn’t trap me.
When I start moving, our paces match. We reach my room, he drops a step back, allowing me to open the door, then follows me inside. He looks around, and I know he’s noticing the room is as basic as his. Sure, there are a few more of my belongings around, but no ornaments, no pictures. Everything personal I keep in my house. If I sell it, where would I store all my shit? It’s too much to keep here.
“You’re tidy.”
I wince at his observation. “Habit. I’m just going to use the bathroom.”
“Ah, I’ll pop back and use mine.”
“Road, you can take a piss here. I don’t care.”
He grins. “Forgot my toothbrush, so I’ll use it while I’m there.”
I pass over the key to my room so he can let himself back in, then proceed to do what I was going to, multi-tasking by sitting on the loo and cleaning my teeth at the same time. I’m back, dressed in a fresh pyjama set and under the sheets when Road returns. He climbs onto the bed fully clothed.
“You can’t sleep like that. Take your clothes off, Road.”
Grimacing, he shakes his head. “If I strip down to my boxers, you’ll see just how much I want you, Swift. And that’s not what tonight is about.”
I want him too, why deny it? An orgasm might help me switch off. “Why not? A fuck will help us both sleep.”
“Uh-uh.” Again his head moves side to side. “When I give you my cock, you’re not going to be half dead to the world or…” he breaks off and his eyes narrow. “Have you taken your painkiller, Swift?”
I swallow, and tentatively ask, “Have you?”
“Nah. I want to be fully alert, and the pain’s nothing I can’t deal with.”
“Same here.”
But he gets up, walks to my bedside table and empties the paper bag I left by the bed. He nods when he checks there’s an antibiotic missing, then reads the other packet, and pushes out two tablets into his hand. He passes them to me with the bottle of water I’d left there.
“Road—”
“Take them. I’m here, Swift. You’re hurting and tired as fuck. You haven’t slept for forty-eight hours. You need to switch off and let your mind and body heal. It doesn’t make you weak, Swift, it makes sense.”
Maybe it’s because I’m so bloody tired, but I don’t have the strength to argue. A painless deep sleep sounds pretty good right now. “You promise you’ll stay?”
His hand makes the sign of a cross over his chest, then he gives a quick boyish grin. “Devil’s honour.”
“Then take off your clothes.” Some illogical part of me thinks he’s less likely to leave if he has to get dressed again, while really I know that I’ll have better dreams if the last thing I see before going to sleep is him naked.
When he gets up to obey me, I know I should turn away, but I don’t, instead I shamelessly watch. Noticing, he makes a show of removing his cut and then his shirt, pumping his hips and rotating them.
I chuckle. “I see you’ve learned some shit from those strippers.”
“You better believe it, babe.” He winks. Then slowly, he pops the button at the top of his jeans, and circling his hips once again, slides that zipper down. I put my hand over my mouth and laugh when he turns his back, then glances at me over his shoulder as again he offers an exaggerated wink, drops his pants and boxers to reveal his ass, and pulls them up again. Then he does a repeat. I wish I wasn’t so tired as he taunts me with his firm glutes.
Finally, he pushes his jeans all the way down, having returned to my room barefoot, there’s nothing in the way to impede them. His boxers though, well, they remain. I see his back tighten, as he presumably takes a breath, then he turns around. His jeans and t-shirt lie where they’ve fallen, while I’ve tidily put my discarded clothes away.
Sitting up, I beckon with my hand. When he steps closer to the bed, brazenly I hook my