Page 61 of These Wicked Hearts

“Atlas, I can’t picture you being a villain even if you really tried.” He’s too sweet for that. Whatever happened is weighing him down, and if he doesn’t want to share, that’s fine. I shouldn’t care anyway. Whatever it is, though, it hurts him.

“I bet wearing tights sucks, though. My balls would be smashed up into my stomach, I just know it.”

I snort. And we’re back to ridiculous. Although this time it calms me a bit. A little sliver of who he is. I don’t like the sad, depressed version of this obnoxious boy. Not because he can’t be sad. Everyone gets upset. It’s because there’s so much light in him while he’s smiling, and I don’t like to see his shine dull.

“Atlas, you’re weird. You know that?”

“You say that a lot.”

He lifts his head to me and some of his features seem to have softened.

“I mean a good weird.”

“Mm, living the dream. Thanks.”

I pat his arm. “Anytime, Atlas.”

Silence settles between us once again. His arm is slung over my waist, and he’s crushing me a little, but I don’t have the heart to tell him to move. Who needs air? “Sorry about tonight. I know this isn’t exactly the arrangement we had in mind.”

I rub his arm. “You don’t have to apologize for having a bad night. You don’t owe me anything. Not even a good mood.”

I stare up at my ceiling for a moment, neither of us speaking. I feel Atlas’s fingers slowly trace the tattoo on my hip. He’s laying most of his weight on me, but even still, he feels small like this in my arms. His warm breath puffs against my chest.

“Atlas.”

“Yeah?” His head picks up, and even in the darkness of my room I can faintly make him out. I don’t push him. I just shift a little by instinct, cupping his face.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

I feel him nod in my hands. “Can I kiss you?”

The question settles someplace deep, burrowing into my chest. “Yeah,” I answer. “Please.”

Atlas moves a little before I feel his lips on mine, gently at first. I don’t lead or push. I let him take whatever he needs from me right now. For the first time, I let him lead. It’s not rushed or desperate. It’s warm, like a gentle hug.

It’s . . . real.

My fingers trace up his spine, and I let him deepen the kiss slightly. His tongue doesn’t come out to play, and his movements don’t heat up. He just stays like this, kissing me softly in the dark.

When he finally pulls back, he rests his head back down on my chest and settles back into the quiet of the room. “Good night, Gage.”

I smile quickly before wiping it free a moment later. “Yeah, good night, Atlas.”

FOURTEEN

Gage

I’m sweating to death.

I pop my eye open and remember why. I don’t even remember falling asleep. Atlas snores next to me, his lips so close to my ear I can feel his warm breath. I go to push him off, but I just look at him instead.

So much ridiculousness in one large body.

His arm is slung across my chest, one hairy leg thrown over my thighs. He’s hugging me to death, clinging like his life depends on it. My fingers have a mind of their own, reaching out and dragging across his arm. I think back to last night with his friends.

Who were they talking about? Who’s Grey? An ex? I don’t think so. I know I’m the only man he’s slept with. Or maybe, right? Who knows, he could have lied. As soon as I think it, I wave it away. Atlas isn’t one to lie. Avoid and change the subject sure, but he’s not a liar. Somehow, I know that.

What I do know is that as soon as that giant man said his name, Atlas’s demeanor shifted and I wanted to get him out of there.