“Sage…”
I went to pull away, to give my poor eyes a break so I didn’t have to stare at a face and body I couldn’t love, no matter what he had to say about it.
“Sage…” He turned me around much more slowly now, searching my face for reasons for the change in mood he could no doubt smell in my scent, because there was no hiding anything from these men.
But that didn’t mean I had to say anything.
“Sage, what’s up?”
I reached up and tugged his head down, sure I could distract him with my mouth, and he kissed me back, but not for long.
“Sage…?”
I moved my hands, unbuttoning his shirt in a series of quick movements, getting only quicker as he kept calling my name. Then my fingers hit his bare skin. He was so hard, so taut, so not the stereotypical IT guy. Of course he wasn’t. I watched the muscles of his abs crunch, delighting and feeling a little devastated at the sight of them. They were so fucking beautiful, and I—
“Sage.”
No question now, his tone was all command, and when I didn’t respond, he reached up and tipped my head back, forcing me to meet his eyes. He was seeing me, really seeing me, those pale blue eyes seeming to observe everything, but I couldn’t have that. I dropped my hands, going for his belt and undoing it to the sound of his protests, which died the moment I thrust my hand inside his now open fly.
“Fuck, Sage!” He pressed his forehead to mine, panting as I slowly, carefully swivelled my hand down his length. He was big, thick, and perfect, just like each one of them was.
He couldn’t know what I felt. That had two parts to it. I didn’t want to reveal my still unresolved body issues to him. Women of all sizes had insecurities about their bodies, but having a bigger body? It felt like the dating pool, the medical community, the whole damn world was there, confirming all of your worst fears and then piling more on top of them.
Until you were drowning.
Looking like him, feeling how big, hard, vital he was in my hand, he couldn’t know what it was like. Even if somehow he’d been relegated to being the ‘lesser’ Lockwood, he was still smoking hot, that boyish reticence all the more charming, especially when it was shoved to one side and this Max rose.
“Sage…” He chanted my name, his hips bucking in time with my strokes and right now, I wanted him to come. I wanted the validation of having a hot guy’s cum spilling over my hand. I wanted to distract him from whatever he saw in that mirror, to hide the turmoil roiling around inside me.
Only he killed that idea dead.
“Sage… Baby, please…” His hand went over mine and stopped my brutal strokes, squeezing my wrist before pulling it free.
Fuck, he didn’t even want this? That fear seemed confirmed when he tucked himself away and zipped his pants up.
Oh.
“I’m sorry—” I started to say.
“I’m not.” He gave me a kiss, then another. “Your hands feel so small and soft, I just want to fucking rut into them.”
Yesss, I thought furiously.That. Just that.
More kisses came, slow, sweet, and drugging, trying to lull me into a sense of complacency, but I couldn’t make that leap. I just couldn’t.
“But your scent, it changed.” He paused then, his head hovering over mine, as if he would kiss me, and I leaned up to offer my lips for just that because I didn’t want to hear what came next. “When I called you beautiful, your scent soured. Something changed when I forced you to look into the mirror.”
He paused, his eyes bright blue now, staring down into mine.
“What did I do? How did I fuck things up?”
Oh.
I swallowed, then blinked, only seeing it now. I’d been too caught up in my own insecurities to see his, until now. It was in the tense clench of his jaw, the way his stare demanded answers, his muscle tensing as if anticipating a hit and bracing himself for it. My brows creased a little, and he stiffened further until I set a hand on that beautiful bare chest and trailed a single finger down the centre line.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I said.
“No, Sage, you can tell me. I can’t fuck things up this time. I can’t—”