There. It’s out. And I don’t think his eyes can possibly get any wider.
I hold my breath, wondering where the hell this conversation is going to go now that it’s back in his court.
Michael folds his arms. Not tightly, not defensively and not quite enough to mask the shiver that goes through him. I can’t tell if he’s repulsed, uncomfortable or…something else.
His voice is soft when he says, “Am I right in assuming you’re volunteering to be that man?”
There’s no point in backpedaling or sugarcoating, so I just nod.
He breaks eye contact and stares at the floor between us. Michael’s not easy to read, and right now, I have zero clue what he’s thinking. The creases between his eyebrows, the tension in his jaw and his shoulders—they tell me he’s deep in thought, but I can’t begin to guess what those thoughts are.
He lifts his gaze again. “So you want to sleep together until I can handle it again?”
“If you don’t want to, that’s—”
“I haven’t even gotten that far yet.” He waves a hand. “I’m still trying to figure out what you’re suggesting.”
“Fair enough.” I shift under his scrutiny. “The thing is, we’ve been together before. I’m not an unknown to you.”
He studies me but doesn’t speak.
I start playing with my ring again. “You know for a fact you can trust me in bed. Maybe that’ll get you past those walls that keep tripping you up with guys you haven’t been with.”
“But…what about…” He gestures at my hands. “What about Ian?”
My fingers stop with my ring just above my second knuckle. “This was actually his idea.”
Michael’s eyes are huge. “Seriously?”
I push the ring all the way on, then hook my thumbs in my pockets and hope that’s enough to keep me from being so goddamned fidgety. “His thought was that it might give you a chance to get your bearings before you find yourself considering getting into bed with someone new.”
This time, Michael makes no attempt to hide the shudder. “You guys want me to use you? For, what, therapy?”
I shrug. “If you want to look at it like that.”
“I don’t want pity sex.”
“It’s not pity any more than it was pity when you slept with me the first time.”
Michael chews his lip again. “That was different.”
“How? Because we were young and inexperienced?”
He doesn’t answer immediately. Shaking his head, he says, “Look, I don’t know about this.”
“Do you have any better ideas?”
Michael’s eyes flick toward me. Then toward the floor. “No. I don’t. And don’t get me wrong—I appreciate that you’re willing to do this. I really do.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I just don’t know. I have no idea what to think.”
“Do you think it could help?”
He seems to mull it over for a long moment, and then half shrugs. “Maybe?” He meets my eyes, and his are filled with equal parts confusion and pain. “Part of me wants to take you to bed right now because I know that for me, you’re the safest man on the planet. If I can’t handle sex with you, then I might as well stay celibate.”
My heart speeds up. “And the other part?”
He swallows hard, and he’s staring at the floor again. “That part is scared to death of breaking that illusion.”
It takes me a second to comprehend what he’s saying, and when I do, my stomach drops into my feet. “You’re afraid I’ll do something to make you feel unsafe?”
“It’s not rational. I know it’s not.” When he looks at me this time, his eyes plead with me to understand. “But that’s the half that can’t let go of the fact that I trusted Steve too.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I know you’d never hurt me, Josh. I know that. But there was also a time when I knew I didn’t really have Stockholm Syndrome, and that Steve really did mean well. It’s kind of like being on a strong hallucinogen. Once you start seeing shit, you can’t trust anything to be real.”
Steve, you bastard.
“How can I prove it to you?” I ask softly.
Michael shakes his head and doesn’t look at me. “If I knew…”
We’re both still and silent for a long time. Then I cautiously come a little bit closer. He flinches, but his feet stay planted.
Slowly, carefully, I bring my hand up, and he’s watching it, but he still doesn’t back away. He’s tense, and I’d bet money that the muscles in his neck are hard as steel right now, especially as I inch closer to his face.
“You can say no,” I whisper. “Say the word, and I’ll back off.”
Still eyeing my hand, he says just as quietly, “Duly noted.”
And he still doesn’t move. Not toward me, not away from me.