Some of the tension in Dawson’s posture eased.
“You’re not an experiment,” I said. “I don’t experiment. That’s…kind of the whole point, I’m starting to understand. But I want you—all of you. Seriously.”
“It’s still a big omission,” Dawson said. “You’ve always been so—so open, about everything, it just really shocked me. Everyone else seemed to know what you were talking about. Like I’d been intentionally excluded.”
“I get that now,” I admitted. “I didn’t think about how it could seem to you, and I’m sorry for that. The guys slapped some sense into me.”
Dawson’s lips curved into a small smile. “That seems to happen a lot.”
“Well, they’re good at it,” I said. “The guys only knew because they’re the ones that encouraged me to consider my sexuality at all. I’m not sure I would have figured it out on my own—I thought I was just sort of broken.” I shrugged. “I thought I wasn’t going to feel desire for anyone ever again. At least until I met you. And then I was so afraid to push you away with… with how seriously I felt about you, especially at first, that I went too long without telling you about my sexuality at all.” I swallowed around the sudden tightness in my throat. “I’m sorry. But at the end of the day—you being my first guy doesn’t matter to me. I just want to be your partner.”
Dawson met my eyes, wide and a little awed. “Still? Even after…” He raised the beer. “After this?”
“Yeah. I’m on your side. And that’s not contingent on something as normal as you having cravings.” I shrugged. “Like I said, I still have them, too. Recovery’s not a straight line. But even though you were tempted, you didn’t drink. You waited it out. And if you’re committed to recovery then… I’m committed to you.”
“Jeez,” Dawson said, like he couldn’t quite believe it. “You just… I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t showed up.”
I was pretty sure, deep in my gut, that he would’ve been fine. He was strong, and if he’d sat outside Tempest and held a cold beer in his hands, without breaking, he could’ve ridden out the craving without me.
“Where’d you get this?” I asked, without judgment. Just curiosity.
He sighed. “I stashed it,” he said. “Before you and Brennan helped me clean all the booze out of the house. Not because I thought I’d want it, but because I wanted to test myself, I guess. I wanted to prove to myself that even if it was there, I wasn’t going to crack. That I didn’t need it.”
I nodded. “A way to feel like you were still in control.”
“Exactly,” he said, with a familiar small sigh of relief.
“What’s the verdict?” I asked. I wasn’t going to tell him to chuck it—I wasn’t even going to tell him not to open it. It had to be his decision. He was in control, even if he sometimes didn’t feel that way.
Dawson set the beer aside. “Between a drink and a future with you? Not even a question.” Finally, he folded his hand over mine, and then leaned close enough to kiss me. It was a gentle, sweet kiss, and when he pulled away, it was with some hesitation in his eyes. “But…”
“But what?” I asked, carefully not letting any of the anxiety I felt into my voice.
“I just want to make sure…” He trailed off again, then wrinkled his nose and huffed in frustration.
“What?” I asked. “You can ask me anything. Seriously.”
“I just want to know I’m not a… a poor replacement for Sienna,” he said, cringing even as he said it. “I know how that sounds, but I have this fear that you’re just waiting to meet another woman like her. Especially since you haven’t been interested in men before.”
I started. I’d never even considered that. Dawson and Sienna were so different—their greatest similarity was the fact that I loved them both. I cupped Dawson’s face in my hands and kissed him.
“Not a chance,” I said. “I loved her. And I miss her. But you and me, we’re building something together. I want to build a future with you.”
Dawson nodded, his eyes fluttering closed. His expression was soft, corners of his lips downturned, like he’d known this was true but needed to hear me say it.
“Sorry,” Dawson said. “I know. I want that, too.”
“Don’t be sorry.” I kissed him again. “You can always talk to me about this. About anything. And I promise not to keep stuff back from you anymore, even if it’s things I’m still figuring out. Especially then.”
The kiss deepened, and Dawson sighed into it, his posture softening as he leaned closer to me.
“Let’s go inside,” I murmured against his lips.
He nodded in agreement, but didn’t break the kiss, and arousal curled low in my gut. God, I wanted him—I was so proud of him, and so relieved that we were really on the same page now, through and through. I wanted to show him how much I cared for him, and how much I trusted him.
“Will you make love to me?” I asked, even as my cheeks heated.
Dawson started, then pulled back a little. His mouth dropped open. “You want me like that? To top you?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Have you ever?” Dawson asked.
“No,” I said. “You’ll be my first.”
Dawson kissed me again, hard, then stood up and tugged me to my feet.
And maybe, I thought to myself, my only.
DAWSON
I tugged Nix into my house and caged him against the door, kissing him hard and hungry. He laughed a little into the kiss, immediately winding his arms around my waist to pull me close against him.
I’d been through a fucking hurricane of emotions today, and somehow, that only made my desire for him more intense. I finally understood why Nix hadn’t told me about me being his first experience with a man. He just didn’t experience attraction the same way I did—the way most people did. And now that I understood it, instead of making me feel like I was an experiment, or a phase, it made me feel… even luckier. Even more desired. He’d chosen me for the connection between us, and now, after our conversation on the porch, I felt even more secure in that connection.
He wasn’t going anywhere. And neither was I.
And now, he’d asked me to fuck him.
I slid my arms around his waist and grabbed his ass hard, digging my fingers into the firm muscle of his ass. Nix gasped into the kiss and his hips bucked forward.
He’d asked me to fuck him, and no one had ever fucked him before. No one had ever touched him like I was going to touch him. And—a fierce, possessive part of me insisted—no one else ever would. Heat flared in my gut at the thought.
I loved getting fucked, especially by Nix. We hadn’t really talked about dynamics in depth, and I’d just been going with the flow, with whatever Nix wanted to do. I’d let him set the pace. But I liked fucking, too. And after learning that Nix hadn’t even kissed a guy before me, I was even hungrier to fuck him. To make him feel as amazing as he made me feel—to make him feel like no one ever had before.