Page 27 of Hot Rucking Canadian

I believed him.

So I closed my eyes and let go.

Chapter Eleven

Travis

Iawoke to the distinctive smell of coffee and bacon. The way every good Canadian should, as far as I was concerned.

Orienting myself took mere moments as Mallow’s firm mattress cuddled my rumpled self. With a cat wrapped around the top of my head, gently kneading my scalp. As long as she didn’t pull my hair, I had no plan to dislodge her. Letting sleeping dogs lie and all that. Cats, dogs…what difference did that matter?

Memories of the previous night flooded back. The blow jobs. The fucking.

I hesitated.

Okay, maybe not.

Well, the first time we’d come together, it’d been violent in all the good ways. He’d implied he wanted me to drill him into the mattress—which I’d happily done.

After that—our second and third joinings—had been tender. Almost magical in a way I’d never encountered before. He’d wanted gentle. Whether he’d actually said those words, or I’djust interpreted them, I couldn’t be certain. But he’d wanted something more than pure fucking.

And I’d willingly given it to him. Hell, I’d do anything he asked.

Plus we’d exchanged blow jobs.

Had to say, the man had a talented mouth.

Man?

Lover?

So much shifted last night. I hadn’t felt like a guy who abused his body all day long and who sat with heating pads at night. I didn’t feel nearly over the hill. Knowing, if I took care of myself, I could have a good long life didn’t change the fact some days I felt old. Decrepit. Needing to find more energy.

And wow, my refractory period last night had been a fraction of what it normally was.

One look from Mallow—one simple crooked finger—and I’d been ready to go again. Anything to please him. Anything to bring him pleasure. Anything to enjoy him over and over. My pleasure, as it did with all my partners, took second place. He, whomever he was, needed to come first. I’d done selfish in my teens and early twenties.

After Mom’s death, I’d taken a hard look at myself in the mirror—scar, tattoos, and all—and decided I’d be more considerate. I’d try harder. I’d find a way to be a better person.

Despite everything, I wanted to believe I had.

That she’d be proud of the man I’d become.

The look Cassandra had given me last night, as I’d relayed those tough years, assured me she understood. Perhaps in the way only an innocent, yet knowledgeable, child could. Not with pity, but with compassion. She’d understood why I’d shared the story. Why I told anyone who would listen.

I didn’t want them taking the same path I had. If one young person chose better, then my life would’ve been worth it. The pain would’ve been worth it.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

Mallow’s gentle voice pulled me from my musings. From the inner turmoil I so often faced.

“May I bring you breakfast in bed?” He offered a shy and charming smile.

I winced. “I have to pee.”

“Then you can crawl back into bed. I haven’t had my fill of you yet.”

Last night, in the near-darkness of this room, I hadn’t hesitated.

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