Page 128 of Tangled Hearts

He giggles. “Brain’s all quiet. So quiet. Just you.”

That makes not a single bit of sense, but it sounds like a good thing. He burrows deeper into my arms, and I wrap myself around him, pulling him tightly against me. I play with his hair while he comes down, soaking in the feel of him and the warmth of his body.

Everything’s a damn mess—between his makeup and our cum—but if he’s not worried about it right now, I’m not going to pull him out of his headspace and make him worry about it.

Eli hums, snuggling closer. “Did you have sex like this with Leo?”

Well, that came out of left field. “Like…” I say, trying to figure out exactly what he means.

“Likethis,” he grumbles.

“Did I dress him up and play with him like a little doll?” Eli growls a bit under his breath, making me smile, but I guess I’ve got my answer. “No. I did not.”

“What was it like? Were you like this with him too?”

I’m not sure where these questions are coming from, but honesty is probably the best policy. “Our sex life was fine. Notreally like this. You just bring something out in me that no one else ever has. Make me want things I’ve never wanted from anyone else.”

He’s quiet for so long I’m sure he’s fallen asleep, but then he sighs. “I love you.”

“I love you too, my perfect little doll.” I kiss the top of his head, and a few minutes later, his breathing has evened out, his body slumping as he falls asleep. I know he won’t want to wake up like this, so as soon as I’m sure he won’t wake up if I move, I work my way out from under him and get a washcloth to clean him up.

He doesn’t even stir, and when I climb in beside him, he finds his way right back into my arms.

I hold him close, closing my eyes and breathing in his scent—sex and sweat and something that’s just Eli. My perfect doll, right in my arms where he belongs.

Chapter 40

Eli

I’m alone when I wake up. I have to admit, it’s not my favorite, but since it’s still the middle of the night, it’s also a bit concerning. “Nic?” I whisper, looking around the room in the dark.

There’s no response, so I jump out of bed and throw an oversized t-shirt on. The door is shut, which is strange to me. If Nic was going to the bathroom or something, why wouldn’t he just leave the door open? When I step into the hallway, the bathroom door is also closed, but the light is on. I knock. “Are you okay?” I hope he’s not sick.

There’s a loud crash, then a muffled noise. “Yeah.”

“Are you sick or something?”

For a few minutes, he doesn’t say anything. In fact, there’s no noise at all. And then it almost sounds like he’s choking. “I’m coming in.”

I give it a second to see if he’s going to tell me no, and then I push the door open. I’m not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t for him to be sitting on the floor against the wall with his face buried against his knees. I drop beside him. “Nic?”

His back rises and falls with a heavy breath, then he looks at me. His tear-stained face has my heart clenching painfully. “What’s wrong?” I whisper, panic rising in my chest.

He shakes his head, then clears his throat. “I’m just… sad. I don’t know.”

My heart squeezes. “Why are you in here?”

“Well…” He shrugs, turning his gaze from mine. “I, uh—didn’t want to bother you.”

I sit on that for a second, mostly because my initial reaction is to be snappy. To assume it’s because he doesn’t think I can handle it—to think the worst—but he’s proven to me time and time again that I don’t have to do that. “Is there a reason you didn’t think you could talk to me about your feelings?”

Nic sighs, toying with the material of his sweats. “No. It’s—well, it’s my job to take care of you, not the other way around. You asked me to take control, and I can’t be in control if I’m a fucking mess.”

“That’s bullshit.”

His gaze snaps to mine. “What do you mean?”

“I give you control because I like how it feels, Nic. I trust you with that because… I—I justdo.There’s something so safe about you. But I’m also a grown man. I can handle hard things. I give up control to you because I enjoy it. Not because I’m incapable of handling things myself.” His eyes widen some, likely worried he’s offended me, but I’m on a roll now, so I don’t even slow down. “If you’re sad or mad or afraid, I want you to share those things with me. I don’t—” I glance around the bathroom. “I don’t want you hiding out all on your own to deal with it yourself. It’s my job to take care of you too. For us to take care ofeach other.”