Page 79 of Flare

I wanted this to work far more than I should, but weweremaking progress. We’d been able to add to the ‘yes, please’ side of my list as my body became accustomed to Beck’s presence and a sense of familiarity and trust started to build.

His arm around my waist from the side? Yes, please. From the back still had mixed results. If I knew he was there, great. If not, it was a big no—cue a major freak-out in the kitchen of Flare when he thought I’d heard him coming only to find himself slammed into the wall. Another bruise, another apology. But his hand on my cock through my trousers, face to face? Yes. On my arse? Yes, fucking please—a big step up from Nolan. Beck called it our desensitisation project, laughing that he was the spider to my arachnophobia.

I loved that he was so easy with it all, and as much as I tried not to get my hopes up, tried to keep things in perspective, my heart was doing a happy dance in my chest with every bit of progress and imagining things it had no right to. Feelings bubbled that were too soon, too strong, and although we were making progress, I’d been there before. Nolan hadn’t minded the novelty either... at first. But like with Nolan, Beck and I weren’t in any kind of formal Dom/sub relationship, and I sure as shit didn’t want one. Which meant what we were doing would eventually get old.

Beck wanted his hands on me, and I wanted that too. I wanted his arms around me. I wanted to be pushed up against a wall and owned. I wanted what I saw other couples had, that easy freedom with each other’s bodies. I was vers and I hadn’t been fucked in over seventeen years, and that had been little more than awkward teenage fumbling. I could only dream of how it would feel to have a man like Beck inside me.

I hated the all-too-familiar furrowed brow Beck wore whenever he got close and his mind started rifling through the list to make sure he didn’t get things wrong, his instinct to touch me, to make love to me, to own my body—all on strict lockdown. I hated it with a miserable fury that was slowly eating away at that cautious happiness.

When Beck was near, I felt this surge of joy, but always with an anchor of fear, and also anger. Fear he’d leave me. Fear I wouldn’t be enough. Anger at my shitty past, at the men who’d done this, but mostly anger at myself and my stupid fucking body that wouldn’t behave. And I realised something.

With Nolan, I’d only wanted to try and give him enough so he’d maybe stay.

With Beck, I wanted more. With Beck, I wanted to change. I wanted everything.

With Beck, I was greedy.

* * *

“So, what are you going to do about it?” Hunter flicked me an amused look from the other side of my draughting table after I’d pretty much landed the whole sorry package of confused feelings in his lap.

“I was looking for advice,” I grumbled. “What’s the point in tellingyouif I have to answer my own damn questions?

He returned to studying a page of thumbnail images until he found what he wanted. “Here’s your cover. Tell me what you think.” He handed me the magnifier. “You’re a big boy, Rhys. You don’t need me to tell you what you need to do.”

I rolled my eyes. “Why am I even bothering to look at these? If I don’t agree with the shotyoulike, you’ll just bully me into it anyway.”

He snorted. “True. But this way I can pretend I gave you a say.”

“Fuck off.” I flipped him off, then took a look. “Dammit. Okay, it’s great. You captured a ton of movement on Alec’s spin—the way the coat flies up, the blue of the shoes matching the inner jacket lining—you’re a fucking genius. Is that what you want to hear?”

He beamed. “It’s a start. You may bow to my awesomeness.”

I threw a magazine at him instead. “You’d be lost without my designs to actually shoot, you do realise that, right? And with that in mind, refer to above. Fuck. Off.”

He laughed. “I will admit your clothes add something to the final shot.”

“Oh, that’s generous of you. Alec looks great in these. Not bad for a first proper shoot. I hope I’m not pushing him.”

“You’re not. And the way he looks? It’s not exactly a hardship shooting the man.”

“But there’s a ton of guys out there with looks, right?”

“Yeah, but only a few have that special something. And Alec has that in spades. I’ve worked with enough to know.”

“Shayne isn’t impressed.”

Hunter snorted. “Shayne is an arsehole, even if he sells. Plus, he’s just smelling competition. Give Alec a year and Shayne will be fighting him for a place in all the big shows. And you still haven’t answered my question.”

I sighed and bundled Valentino’s silky black body off my chair before slumping in it. He sulked his way across to the bay window and settled in his favourite spot on the sill. “You want me to keep that stupid appointment I made with the new therapist, don’t you?”

“Do I?” He batted his eyelashes. “I’m pretty sure that dropped fromyourlips, not mine. Although, it begs the question of why the hell you’d want to cancel it unless you’re running scared.”

“Dick,” I grumbled and sank further in my chair. “And okay, maybe. But I also seem to be coping so much better this time.”

“Aha.”

“We’re managing to do more and more, and I haven’t freaked out... yet.” I winced. “Not badly anyway.”

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