Page 32 of Unbound
Which meant Jesse's church would definitely organize a counter-protest. They always did.
I leaned back against my headboard, a fresh, predatory grin spreading across my face. I pictured it: Jesse standing across from our celebration, holding some hateful sign, trying to look righteous and committed while internally falling apart. Because after Tuesday, I knew exactly what was going on behind those carefully controlled blue eyes.
He'd be watching me. Trying not to, but unable to stop himself. Same as he'd done at the gym. And every time our eyes met across that divide, he'd remember the weight of that barbell, the heat of my body hovering over his, the way his gaze had helplessly traced my outline through grey cotton.
The thought sent a fresh pulse of heat through my spent body, my cock giving a traitorous twitch against my thigh like it hadn't just emptied itself moments ago.Christ.I dragged a hand down my face, fingertips smearing the remnants on my jaw—proof that even now, even after coming harder than I had in months, the mereideaof Jesse pretending not to watch me across that protest line was enough to wind me up again.
Let him stand there with his laminated Bible verses and his borrowed outrage. Let his church brothers clap him on the shoulder like he was some righteous warrior while his fingers clenched white-knuckled around that hateful sign. I’d see the truth in the way his throat worked when I licked my lips. In the restless shift of his hips when I leaned against the pride flag pole with deliberate, languid grace.
The thing was, he wouldn't even realize he was doing it. Wouldn't notice how his gaze kept finding me across that protest line, or how his carefully neutral expression would crack for just a second when our eyes met. He'd stand there, locked in that rigid self-control, while his body quietly rebelled against everything he'd been taught.
And I'd wait. Because that's what this had become—waiting for the moment Jesse stopped fighting himself long enough to see what I already knew.
This wasn't about conquest. It was about recognition. About being there when he finally understood that the wanting wasn't wrong, thathewasn't wrong. The physical attraction was still there—Christ, was it ever—but it was tangled up now with something more complicated. Something that felt dangerously like hope.
Hope that when Jesse finally let himself fall, he'd trust me enough to catch him.
Thisgot me harder than any second round ever could.
I typed back to Diana:
Working on the Jesse project. Making good progress.
Details?
Let's just say Tuesday was very educational. For both of us.
Phoenix wants to know if she should start planning the victory party.
Not yet. But soon. Definitely soon.
Because if Tuesday at the gym had taught me anything, it was that Jesse's resistance was already crumbling. All I had to do was keep pushing, keep showing up, keep being exactly what he couldn't allow himself to want.
Saturday would be another chance. Another moment where Jesse would have to choose between the comfortable lie and the terrifying truth.
And I'd be there, hoping like hell that one of these days, he'd choose himself…and me.
8
JESSE
The campus quad buzzed with activity as our group assembled at the designated meeting point. Father gripped his sign with white knuckles—"God's Word is Truth"in bold black letters against white poster board. Simple. Clean. Righteous. Mine read"Save Our Children"in Rebecca's careful handwriting. She'd made it for me the night before, sitting at my kitchen table with markers and poster board spread between us like we were working on a school project.
"Remember," Pastor Caldwell addressed our small cluster of twenty-three church members, his voice carrying the authority I'd grown up respecting, "we are here as witnesses to God's truth. We speak with love, not hatred. We are the light in darkness."
I nodded along with the others, my throat tight. The familiar words should have comforted me. They always had before. But something felt different today, like I was watching myselffrom outside my own body, going through motions that belonged to someone else.
"Jesse." Father's hand landed heavy on my shoulder. "You understand the importance of today. We're witnesses to God's justice. Someone has to tell them the truth about their sin."
"Yes, sir." The words came automatically, muscle memory from twenty-one years of saying exactly what was expected.
Rebecca stood beside me, her own sign reading"Jesus Loves You - Come Home."She'd spent extra time on the decorative border, tiny crosses marking each corner. Her face was set in determined lines, but I caught the way her eyes darted nervously toward the growing crowd on the other side of the quad.
Because there was another gathering happening today. A much larger one.
Rainbow flags dotted the campus lawn like wildflowers after rain. Hundreds of students milled around booths and tables, their laughter carrying on the April breeze. Music played from speakers—actual music, not hymns, but something upbeat that made people move their shoulders unconsciously. Food trucks lined the street, filling the air with the scent of grilled onions and funnel cake.
It looked like a festival. It looked like... joy.
