Page 11

Chapter Eleven

Travis

I awoke 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’d just 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.

His lamp’s illumination barely lit the space.

And eventually we’d turned it off. Although fumbling with condoms in the dark had been fun, I felt less confident now.

He could see me. All of me. Even with his blinds closed, a lot of light filled the room.

No hiding in the shadows . One of the reasons I chose dark bars and why I kept my apartment so shrouded.

If guys couldn’t see me properly, maybe that made it easier for them.

“Hey.” He advanced quickly to my side, sitting by the bed and grasping my hand. “Whatever you’re thinking, I want you to stop.”

I blinked.

Gently, he extricated Mamba from her grasp of my hair. He put her on the floor.

She meowed her displeasure, but still headed out to the living room.

“I can see it. In your eyes. You’re hurting. I don’t know why, and I don’t have the right to ask, but I want to take away that pain. If I don’t miss the mark, we had a pretty good time last night.”

“We did.”

“Then why not continue today? I know you don’t work, and I’m completely free. I want to watch the replay of last night’s game—”

“And teach me rugby?”

He grinned wickedly. “Among other things. I’m a very good instructor and big on positive reinforcement.” He squeezed my hand. “What were you thinking about?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I hadn’t wanted to know. The truth is I want to know everything about you. Your past, your present, your dreams for the future…all of it.”

I snickered. “You don’t want to know my dreams for the future, Mallow. Because I don’t have any. Well, staying alive would be good. Retiring with a bit of money in the bank twenty years from now would be okay as well.”

“Those are great dreams.” He telegraphed his movement as he raised his hand to my cheek.

Slowly, I nodded.

He stroked his hand down my cheek.

I nearly broke on the spot. No one—absolutely no one—had ever touched my face. It just didn’t happen. Even if people weren’t repulsed, they would never dare.

“Do you…?” He cleared his throat, even as he continued to caress me.

“Do I what?” I closed my eyes and leaned into his touch.

The bed shifted as he moved closer.

I leaned in. Where I expected a kiss, though, he pressed his lips to the scar.

Then, as the pain in my chest expanded to the point where I almost couldn’t take anymore, he pulled me into a bear hug.

Into a Mallow hug.

The big bear who was just a teddy bear inside.

We stayed that way for a long time.

Finally, I opened my eyes and pulled back. “What were you going to ask?”

“Have you…” He cleared his throat. “I don’t want you to think I’m not incredibly respectful and in awe of what—”

“Just spit it out.”

“Do you want…I don’t know…a safer job? Somewhere you’re not putting your life at risk every day?”

I bit my lip.

“Say it. I promise I won’t judge.”

“Yeah…” I drew in a deep breath and let it out. “What I didn’t tell Cassandra is I eventually went back and earned my high school diploma. And I’ve even taken a few construction-management courses.”

“Which would lead to…?” His excited expression couldn’t be overstated.

“Like, I dunno. Maybe a foreman’s job. Or an assistant something. I’m learning how to read plans and shit.”

“That’s…that’s amazing.” His dark-brown eyes softened. “I mean, I care about you anyway, you get that, right?”

I frowned.

“Just…I don’t want you to think that I don’t respect what you do—because I totally respect what you do.”

“Yeah, okay. I get it.” And I did. He would be happier if I wasn’t doing such a dangerous job. “Foreman is a tough job.”

“Then who better to do it? Someone who knows what the men are going through?”

“And women.”

He cocked his head.

“We have a couple of women on the crew. I swear they do ties faster than the rest of us.” I winced. “But they face a lot of shit.”

“Misogyny?”

“Yep. Some of the men I work with are assholes.” I could think of two right off the top of my head.

Guys I gave a wide berth to. Guys I wouldn’t want to run into in a dark alley at night.

They knew I respected the women. I would’ve defended them—if they’d asked.

They’d made it clear, though, they were capable of taking care of themselves.

Didn’t mean I didn’t watch out.

Didn’t mean I wouldn’t intervene if necessary.

“As long as you don’t feel that way—”

“I don’t.” I nearly spat out the word.

He appeared completely unperturbed.

I scrunched my nose. “My mom always taught me to respect women. And I listened. Probably helped I wasn’t interested in getting into their pants.” I shrugged. “I mightn’t have been as respectful with guys at first. But that evolved.”

“After your mom died.”

I both hated and loved how he was coming to know me so well. “Yeah.”

“She sounds like a good woman.”

“I didn’t…I wasn’t the man she’d tried to raise me to be.”

“But you are now.” He tapped the end of my nose in a way I found weirdly endearing.

Special.

“Food needs to be reheated. You like tomatoes?”

I nodded.

He clapped his hands. “Great. I made bacon, tomato, and mayo sandwiches. I can add lettuce if you want.”

“Uh, no.” I smiled. “I can’t remember the last time I had a BLT without the L. A long freaking time.”

“Well, then we’re good.” He rose. “You do what you need to do, and then I’ll serve you breakfast in bed.” He wore an oversized T-shirt and track pants and looked fucking sexy.

“Uh…are my jeans dry?”

“Nope. Still damp. Guess you’ll just have to stay here until they dry.” He pointed to the television across from the bed. “We can watch the game in bed.” He sauntered out of the room.

And so we did. Well, we tried to. I was a terrible student, because all I wanted was to learn about him. What turned him on. What made him tick. What made him come as hard as a freight train.

I was pretty sure his ass was sore by the time my jeans were dry and I made my way home. I was also pretty certain he was damn happy about it.