Precious - Roe Horvat Page 0,59

his belly. Why the grief? What did he lose? Did this ache mean he was in love with Travis? Or did he just mourn the inimitable ecstasy of heat sex and breeding orgasms? Did he truly want Travis to be his mate? Husband? How could he be sure after ten days?

One thing he knew with certainty. He’d never wish for any other man inside his body. Only Travis.

Impossible yet true. It didn’t make sense in his head. During the heat waves, he’d been certain Travis was the love of his life. When he’d asked Travis to breed him, he’d been sure to the marrow of his bones that he loved Travis and Travis loved him. Could he trust his feelings during heat? Wasn’t heat the most irrational, most confusing state of mind?

But what if the opposite was true?

What if his feelings during heat were a genuine outpouring of his heart? And now he was only muddling everything with pointless analysis.

More liquid trickled down his inner thighs, so he set the temperature and sat down on the shower floor. He stayed there until the twinges in his belly receded and the slickness was washed away.

When he returned to the guest bedroom, he found a white box on the nightstand. It looked like toothpaste, but when Micah read the inscriptions, he understood. As usual, Travis had thought of everything.

Micah lay on his back and parted his legs. Carefully, he smeared the cream over his sore pucker and dipped inside with one finger to spread it in his hole. Then he wiped his finger off on his discarded sweats and pulled the covers up his body. The relief was immediate.

He fell asleep again and didn’t wake until noon.

His things arrived two days later: his running gear, sweats and jeans, T-shirts and pajamas, a few nice shirts, a pile of socks and underwear, his favorite deodorant, and the shaving supplies he rarely needed. He was naturally almost hairless except for his legs and the flimsy tufts in his armpits. He also had his computer back and his e-reader, which opened a new realm of possibilities. Clive had even added a few of Micah’s old books, and Micah wrote him a message of thanks. Their housekeeper had been kinder to him than his father.

Micah was still too fragile to run, but he took walks and could sit on a chair without wincing. He slept poorly. Often he woke, searching for Travis in the middle of the night. Then he’d remember where he was. He hid in the guest bedroom with books, and in the afternoons, when the sun flooded the meadows behind the chalet, he stayed on the patio, writing notes and reading journal articles for his thesis.

Then he cooked. Sometimes Travis joined him in the kitchen, quietly typing away on his laptop. Micah looked forward to those meals, even though seeing Travis caused him pain just as much as it made him happy.

Five days into his recovery, Micah felt well enough to try going for a hike. He’d been looking for his hiking pants unsuccessfully for a few minutes, then checked the laundry room. He found the door open. On socked feet, Micah walked in and froze.

Travis stood leaning on the washing machine. He hadn’t noticed Micah. Holding a lump of clothes in his arms, he bent his head and buried his face in the fabric, inhaling.

Micah recognized his T-shirt and sweats from yesterday.

With a quiet sigh, Travis nuzzled the cotton, his eyes closed. He stilled, breathing deeply. He looked smaller, curled into himself, vulnerable. A visible shiver ran through him, and he gasped into the fabric, a soft sound of anguish.

Fighting tears, Micah backed away noiselessly from the door. He was sure Travis would never have wanted him to witness those few seconds of heartbreak.

He loves me. He truly does.

Micah could have turned back, pried the clothes from Travis’s hands, and kissed him. And just like that, he’d seal his fate. At a mere twenty years old.

Giving up on hiking pants, he took his jeans and went out. He walked the same trek he’d had with Travis last week and sat on the vista above the valley for an hour, trying to clear his mind. The image of Travis standing in the laundry room breathing in his scent obscured his sight.

Fifteen

Micah

In the end, it took almost nine days for Micah to feel at home in his body again. When he could finally go to the toilet without any lingering soreness, he figured he