STROKED LONG (41 page)

My feet propel me forward, my heart hammering in my chest, my palms sweating profusely. Fuck, she makes me nervous.

“Hey.”

“Pervert!” She startles and screams, pulling her lipstick out of her purse and holding it in my direction in self-defense. When her eyes focus on me, and she recognizes me, she lowers her lipstick and holds her chest. “Bodi, what are you doing here?”

I close the distance between us and take in her reddened eyes. She’s been crying. I couldn’t hate myself more.

“I, uh, want to talk to you.” Real fucking smooth, Banks.

“Okay,” she says hesitantly. Without another word, she unlocks her door and lets me in. She flicks the lights on and I’m taken back by the amount of knitted scarves that rest on her couch. She notices my perusal and says, “I’ve had some spare time.”

As I take in the sweet smell of her apartment, of her, and I hear the distinct sound of her lock being put in place. My stomach rolls. Fuck, does she look at me and think of that moment in the hotel? Does she even think of me as a man anymore?

Lauren’s words run on repeat.
Be a man. Love the fuck out of her.

A surge of confidence propels me. I turn and stand in front of her. I entwine our fingers together. God, she’s so warm, so soft. Just the small touch of her hand has my body filling with air. I speak my mind, not letting my insecurities run me scared. “I love you, Rubes.”

Her eyes search mine, her lip trembles, and in one blink of her eyes, tears are streaming down her cheeks. Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Why is she crying?

Does she feel guilty for not loving me anymore? Before she can turn me down, I make my case.

“I’ve lived a pretty bland life. Some might say I’m lucky that I have a talent that comes along every generation, that I’m one lucky son of a bitch, but I’ve never seen my life like that. I’ve seen it in black and white. I’ve seen routine, and I’ve seen results from that routine. I’ve kept my life simple, never letting anyone in it because it would put a hitch in my schedule. It was easy, but it wasn’t living.” I squeeze her hand, hoping she can feel my love. “Then you came along. The artist I never expected to fall for. You took your paintbrush and blasted my life with color in every direction. You turned my bland life into something of beauty, changing my routine forever. For the best, Rubes. You showed me what it’s like to live, to love.” I take a breath and step closer. “You once told me you were made for loving me. At the time I couldn’t believe you. I didn’t know how to believe you. But now? I know you’re right. You were brought to me to heal my heart’s scars. I told you I would fuck this up, that I would somehow hurt you. I begged you to be patient with me as I pulled my head out of my ass. I hate that I’ve caused you pain, Rubes.
I know I’m not easy. I still have a ways to go, but I’m working with my psychiatrist, Dr. Auburn. I want to share my story with you, Ruby. It might take some time, but I want to share me with you. Please tell me I haven’t lost you forever because I’ve been waiting so fucking long for you.”

The hand I’m not holding grips my cheek, her thumb runs across my newly grown beard. And the smile I have missed so much graces her beautiful face. “You sweet, man. You can never lose me. I’m yours forever.”

Holy fucking hell . . . she still loves me. My Rubes, she fucking loves me.

A single tear slips down my cheek. I
finally
understand pure joy. Her hand slips to the back of my neck and pulls, bringing my lips to hers. She’s a whisper away from me as she says, “I love you, Bodi Banks. I love you so much.”

I rest my forehead on hers, relief beating through me. “I love you, Rubes.”

As our lips connect, I vow I will be the man she deserves for the rest of my life.

I will cherish the fuck out of her.

I will spoil the fuck out of her.

I will worship the fuck out of her.

But most importantly, I will love the fuck out of her . . . until my dying day.

RUBY

“I’m finishing what I started when we get back home,” Bodi says, eying me from over the hood of his truck.

Home.

Yeah, Bodi wasted no time moving me into his place. Pretty much the next day he was packing up my apartment and making me a permanent fixture in his new routine. And you know what? I wasted no time in messing up that routine, of adding a whole lot of color into his life physically and metaphorically.

Task number one. Curtains.

I wanted hot pink, he wanted grey, so we settled on a butter yellow in a damask pattern. Let’s be honest, I used the pink to scare him silly only to pull the old, “Well, I guess the yellow will do,” when in fact, the yellow was what I originally wanted.

Don’t judge. The man’s place is covered in grey, black, and white. I
needed
to add my feminine flair to it without offending his eyes right away. I’ve added hints of teal and green as well with picture frames, knick-knacks, and throw pillows. But my favorite piece in the condo is Bodi’s painting, which is over the top of our mantel, right next to two pictures of us. One of us at a baseball game, wearing our opposing team colors, and the other of us wearing all of Bodi’s medals together. It was a silly night we spent celebrating his wins, a night I will always cherish as a wonderful memory with the man I love.

Although we are madly in love, exploring each other’s body’s every night, and working together on divvying out money for the foundation—we made over fifty thousand dollars that night—we still have our struggles.

It hasn’t been all candy canes and lollipops. I would love to say we lived a fictional life where our problems just disappeared after an
I love you
, but life doesn’t work that way. Once a week we go to couple therapy with Dr. Auburn, the same doctor Bodi still sees every week on his own. We mainly talk about our progress as a couple and how Bodi can aid me and how I can aid him.

He still struggles with his OCD, and I don’t think that will ever go away. I catch him checking the locks in the middle of the night, and on occasion, he will call Eva at eight thirty, but she continues to miss his call. Secretly, she told me it kills her every time, but she refuses to go back to the way things were. I’ve noticed he does things in threes, such as washing his hair three times, wiping down the counters three times, stacking throw pillows three times. When I catch him, he flushes with embarrassment, but I reassure him that he shouldn’t be embarrassed but instead talk to me about why he feels the need to do his task again. It’s a tip I learned from Dr. Auburn.

Has he gotten better? Sure, a little. Will it ever make me love him less? Never. He suffered a horrific trauma when he was so young. That’s not something you
get better
from.

Even though he says he believes he didn’t kill his parents, I still see the guilt in his eyes when the topic is brought up. I don’t know if he will recover from such a horrifying experience or if he will allow himself to live guilt free, but what I do know is I will continue to show him what an amazing man he is every day to lessen that pain.

I meant it when I said I was made for loving him. There is no doubt in my mind that I was brought to him, to his sister, to help heal their family.

“Did you hear me? We aren’t done.”

I roll my eyes and shut my door. Bodi rounds the truck and links his hand with mine. One of the many things I love about this man: he has no problem showing any form of PDA. He’s actually one of those people you love to hate. You know, the ones that make you so insanely jealous because of the love he showers. Thankfully, I’m the one who gets to bask in it.

“When did you become so invested in knitting?”

“Since you started Naked Knitting Fridays.”

Yes, he knits. Mister Strong Olympian with multiple gold medals, muscles popping out of every orifice of his body, and a dick that makes angels sing, knits. He wanted to learn because he wanted to help knit for the athletes in Special Olympics, but when I started Naked Knitting Fridays, he became more invested in watching . . . as he puts it, “my tits bounce with each loop.” He’s insatiable.

“You’re impossible.”

“No.” He pulls me in and kisses my temple. “I’m just obsessed with you, especially you naked.”

That is the truth. If he had to be obsessed over anything, I’m glad it’s me, and I’m glad it’s me naked. I’m not going to lie. His ability to make me scream his name within four licks has me planted firmly in worship mode where he’s concerned.

“You like to see what kind of marks you can make on me with your beard.”

Yes, the beard has stayed. At first, I wasn’t too sure of it, but Bodi said since he started swimming he’s never been able to grow one out, and he kind of liked it. It’s only temporary. He has a few more months off, but once he gets back in the pool, it will be coming off. I look forward to the smooth skin to return.

“I’m not going to lie about that. But seriously, where do we stand with naked knitting?”

I laugh and knock on the door in front of us. “If you’re a good boy, I will consider it.”

Paisley opens the door and greets us with a giant smile. “Aww, you came!”

“Happy birthday!” I pull her into a hug and then hand her a card with a promise to treat her to a pedicure when her production schedule slows down.

“Thank you. Come in.” She pats Bodi on the shoulder. “Hey Bodi, glad you could make it.”

“Happy birthday,” he says a little awkwardly. We’re still working on how to interact in social situations. He’s had to learn new skills, ways of interacting that he had shied away from earlier. With the support of our friends, he’s becoming more confident. They make it easy on him.

“Thanks. Reese is by the pool, grilling some meat, and there are drinks in the coolers. Help yourself. I hope you brought your suits.”

“Wearing them,” I smile back, loving that Paisley decided on a pool party for her birthday. I don’t mind spending the afternoon ogling some hot men in swim trunks, especially the one beside me who, despite his consumption of Double Stuf Oreos since the end of the games, still has a well-defined six-pack that makes me weak in the knees. Damn you, kale. Damn you. *shakes fist*

We make our way to the back of the house where Reese is talking to Hollis, a beer in his hand, wearing only a pair of swim trunks. Yup, Paisley is a lucky girl, but not as lucky as I am. Hollis doesn’t seem to be paying attention to Reese and his story; he looks more pensive wearing swim trunks that rest so low on his waist I’m pretty sure if he turned around, I would see his butt crack. His gaze is fixed on the pool, never wavering.

Floating on a giant inflatable pretzel, is Melony, and I think back to when I met Hollis for the first time.

Hot sex. The “term of endearment” still makes me giggle. I wonder what’s going on between them.

“Do you want something to drink?” Bodi asks, leaning in to place a kiss on my cheek.

“Yeah. That would be great. Anything but water.”

“I wouldn’t even dare bring you a bottle.” He winks and takes off toward the coolers where he greets the men. I saddle up next to a lounge chair and strip my dress off over my head, revealing the same vintage-style bathing suit I wore for my “swim lesson” at the club. The same one I gave myself a moose knuckle in, yup, I have no shame. Compared to Paisley and Melony who are wearing tiny bikinis, I look pretty covered up even though I’m wearing a two-piece. A miniscule of insecurity flashes over me.

That’s until Bodi approaches me. His eyes eat me up with one glance, lust in his eyes, lust for me. He licks his lips and sets our drinks on the lounge chair. He grips my hips and says, “You fucking owe me big time.”

“What’s that?”

“Do you really think you can parade around in that sexy-as-fuck bathing suit and not get in trouble for it?”

“What about you? You’re about to go shirtless, do you think that’s easy for me?”

“It’s different.” He pulls me closer, a smile on his face.

“How is it different?”

“Because this is torture for me.”

Once again, I roll my eyes at the love of my life. “This relationship is so one-sided.”

“I’m just a horny bastard with eyes for only you. Sorry, Rubes, but you’re screwed.”

“I guess it could be worse.”

“Could be way worse.” He leans in and kisses me just as there is a loud splash in the water. We both turn to see Hollis pop up from the water as well as a drenched Melony.

“You fucker,” she shouts.

“Oops, were you trying to stay dry, hot sex?”

“Don’t fucking call me that!”

“Make me.” He pulls on her arm, forcing her closer only for her to palm his face keeping them at arm’s length. Talking through her hand, muffling his voice, he says, “I love it when you fight dirty, hot sex.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

He laughs and says, “Right about now, I would take any kind of attention from you. Kill away, baby.”

I turn to Bodi and smile. “I wonder what’s going on there.”

He shrugs. “Whatever it is, looks like the poor bastard has it bad.”

“How can you tell?”

Without even looking toward Hollis, he says, “Because you can see it in his eyes. He looks at Melony the way I look at you. He’s completely at her mercy.”

“When did you become so smooth?”

“No fucking clue.” He chuckles. “I’m just glad it works on you.”

It works on me in more ways than one.

As he bends down and softly kisses me with an open mouth, not caring who watches, I thank my lucky stars for bringing this sweet, powerful, yet broken man into my arms. I may have changed his routine, introduced color into his monochrome life, reduced his kale-dependent diet . . . marginally . . . but he’s added so much to my life. So, although he tells me constantly how lucky he feels that he found me, I am the lucky one. He told me the other week that he plans to
cherish the fuck out of
me,
spoil the fuck out of me,
worship the fuck out of me.
What more could any woman want than that?

THE END

Thank you for reading STROKED LONG. I hope you enjoyed it!