Page 114 of Wicked Minds
My eyes snap to his, confusion and uncertainty filling me before I abruptly sit upright. “Do—Do you not want me to?” I ask, suddenly feeling exposed and hesitant as I take in his torn expression.
He’s gotten me off several times since that night at The Depot, yet I haven’t returned the favor even once. That doesn’t seem… fair.
Pushing himself upright, he slides one hand to the back of my head, his other keeping its firm grip on my wrist as he says, “Ry, you haveno ideahow badly I want to feel your lips wrapped around my cock again. Know what it is to have your walls squeezing every last drop of cum from me.” His hand wraps around my wrist directing my palm to his crotch, and I brush my fingers over the steel rod. “See how fucking badly I want you? Every inch is for you.Becauseof you.”
“But then…” My face scrunches as I try to understand why he’s putting a stop to this. It’s apparent that he wants this. “Is it—do you not trust me?”
“No. Fuck, no, that’s not it. It’s—I—” he sighs, teeth gritted as he searches for the right words. Unable to meet my eyes, he states, “I haven’t been with anyone in five years, and I don’t want to rush anything between us. I don’t want you to have regrets.”
One beat of silence. Two beats of silence. Then I croak, “What? How is that possible? You said girls are always throwing themselves at you.”
“They are.” He grimaces. “They were.”
“But… you were a football player,” I state dumbly. “The quarterback.” As if somehow being a football player and having regular sex go hand-in-hand.
Heaving out a sigh, his shoulders drop, and I realize he still hasn’t looked at me. I take him in, managing to stop talking for longer than two seconds.Trulytake him in. The defeated posture. The guilt in his eyes. The shame.
“Hey,” I soothe, cupping his cheeks in my hands and slowly lifting his head until those piercing blue eyes, darkened with the sheer weight of the scathing emotions bombarding him, burn into mine. “It’s okay. There’s no rush. No pressure.” I brush back a strand of hair that has fallen across his forehead. “We don’t have to do anything that neither of us is ready for... You don’t have totellme anything you’re not ready to discuss.” Something shifts in those steely eyes. Softens. A fragile tenderness peeking through. It loosens some of the tightness in me, and I relax a little, continuing to run my fingers through his hair in a gentle, soothing motion. “But for the record, there’s nothing I could regret with you.”
Surging forward, his lips meet mine in a desperate kiss. A thank you and a promise all rolled into one. His hand slides into my hair, and when he pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, his voice is hoarse as he says, “I promise I will. I’ll tell you everything. I just… I need a bit more time.”
I nod, understanding. “Take all the time you need. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here. I’ll listen.”
His responding kiss is tentative, gentle, scraped raw with tenderness, and afterward, we cuddle on the sofa until Logan arrives. That night, when I startle awake from a nightmare, the two of them cuddle me between them, and for the first time, I manage to get back to sleep, knowing they’re both there to keep the demons at bay.
35
GRAYSON
Riley’s face is all I see as I walk into Sunnyside Nursing Home that afternoon, with Royce’s words playing on repeat in my head.The way this is eating you alive… you need to find out if what your Gran said about your mom is true.
Gran’s room is my only hope. I’d debated it last time I was here, but it felt wrong going through her belongings without her knowledge. Now… Now, I just need to know.
She packed up her house before she came here, refusing to let me do a thing. Hell, if I’d had my way, she wouldn’t be here at all, but she wouldn’t hear of it when I offered to defer college so I could look after her in her own home.
I know she put some furniture in storage—heirloom pieces handed down from generation to generation—but she sold pretty much everything else. Which means anything of importance would be here… with her.
“Hey,” the nurse behind reception greets. “Your Gran is just finishing up an art class, but you can wait for her in her room.”
“Thanks,” I say absently, signing my name in the visitors' log before tracing the familiar route to Gran’s room.
Reaching her door, I pause with my hand on the handle, second-guessing what I’m about to do, but the sheer terror onRiley’s face drives me forward, and I slip into her room. With my back pressed to the door, I scour Gran’s room with fresh eyes. Nothing immediately stands out, so I first move to her bedside table, pulling open the drawers. Nothing but tissues and hand cream. Getting on my knees, I look under her bed, finding nothing there either.
I bypass the dresser, really not wanting to have to rifle through my Gran’s underwear and go to the closet next. There are a stack of boxes at the bottom and I flip the lids on each of them.
Shoes. Shoes. Sh?—
I pause at a box that doesnotcontain shoes. Instead, there is a small, black lockbox inside. With a wedge stuck in the back of my throat, I reluctantly reach forward and lift it out.
Trying the lid, I’m not surprised when it doesn’t open, and I stare at the metal lock before I recall seeing a small key on Gran’s bedside table. I hadn’t thought anything of it, but…
Walking over, I pull open the drawer and retrieve the key. It looks like the type of key that would come with a lockbox, and my hands shake as I insert it, my breath shuddering when there is an audible click as the box unlocks.
I can barely feel my legs beneath me as I sag onto the carpet, placing the lockbox in front of me as I stare at it for a long moment. Am I sure I want to know what’s inside? What if it changes everything?
Everything has already changed,I remind myself.If this box contains the answers I need, can I really continue living in denial?
Tentatively, with my heart slamming against my ribs, I reach out and slide back the lid.
