Page 56 of Maybe We Can Fake It

I kiss him harder and rock my hips experimentally. This earns me another groan and his grip tightening on me, so I do it again. And again. My hands come down to explore the contours of his chest over his T-shirt, and his hands move down to grab my ass, pulling me flush against him and keeping me there.

No complaints from me.

That is, until I try removing his shirt but can’t because there’s no room. I whine until he lets me move back enough to get it off him. Then before he can pull me in again, I yank my own shirt off my head with zero finesse, almost knocking my glasses off, and throw it on the floor.

Travis sucks in a sharp breath, and I experience a moment of self-consciousness. I know my body isn’t sculpted like his, but I didn’t think it was that bad,sheesh.

But then I realize he’s staring at my side with a look of awe on his face, not disgust. Ever so slowly, his fingers trail up my ribs, the touch so soft it tickles.

Oh.

“You have a tattoo,” he says, not taking his eyes off the large piece of art that covers my side.

“I do.”

“I didn’t know.”

I laugh softly at the way he sounds mesmerized. “Guess I don’t run around town whipping my shirt off.”

“Does it mean something?” he asks, using the tip of his index finger now to trace around the curved lines of the flowers.

Of course, it does.

I squirm slightly away from his touch, even though I love having his hands on me, and his eyes finally come back up to meet mine. His gaze is unsure now, concerned, like he’s wondering if he did something wrong. But he didn’t. He couldn’t have known why I’d rather not talk about this while I’m trying to make out with him. Orever, preferably.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

His hands fall away from my body, but I quickly grab one and bring it back to my waist. “No, it’s okay. It’s just...”

Despite my fear of needles, I got the large and very painful tattoo a year after April died. After my first year of being May’s father. Of course it means something. It’s just something I don’t normally talk about. But I feel safe with Travis.

Sliding his hand up to cover the top flower, I tell him, “This one’s a daisy. It’s the flower for the month of April. It’s also a symbol of motherhood, and new beginnings, and rebirth.” I move his hand down to the flower below. “And this is lily of the valley. It’s the flower for the month of May.”

He squeezes my side gently, his warm brown eyes full of understanding. “They’re beautiful.”

I nod, choking back the tears that threaten to come. He must recognize my need to not dwell on this topic, because he slides his other hand into my hair and pulls me into a deep, slow kiss. I let the pain of missing April melt away as I lose myself in his lips.

His forehead bumps into my glasses, knocking them askew, and he pulls back. When he reaches out for them, I expect him to fix them or quickly get rid of them so we can resume kissing.

Instead, he carefully removes them from my face and frowns at them. “These are so dirty.”

“Who cares?” I reply. Becausecome onnn.

Ignoring me, he blows hot air on each of the lenses and grabs his shirt off the couch beside him to wipe them off. When heholds them back up for inspection, he frowns again. “How can you even see out of them?”

Huffing in frustration, I take the glasses from him and toss them with minimal care onto the table. “Problem solved.”

He gives me a scolding look and opens his mouth like he’s about to lecture me, but I grind roughly against him, which makes him let out another wonderful groan instead.

Now this is more like it. No more distractions.

We resume making out, and he’s rougher now, nipping at my bottom lip a few times until I whimper. Then he sucks my lip into his mouth and licks across it, soothing the sting. Pulling my mouth away from his, I kiss along his sharp, scruffy jawline and down his neck. I suck hard on the skin there, and he thrusts his hips up once, then goes for the button on my jeans.

I helpfully lift my hips so he can get them down past my ass. But I have to climb off him in order to remove them completely, which sucks.

Resisting the urge to hop back on his lap immediately, I take the time to get his jeans off him too. And when I straddle him again, I decide my effort was totally worth it, because now there are only two thin pieces of cloth covering our hard cocks as we rut against each other.

His finger dips below the waistband of my briefs, skimming along the top of my ass cheeks, and it’s all I can do not to beg him to fuck me right now. It’s been a while, and Travis is all rough and muscular. I’ve had thoughts of topping him before, but in this particular moment, he’s making me desperate to bottom.

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