Free Carry the Ocean: The Roosevelt, Book 1 by Heidi Cullinan Page B

neck and arms were tight with tension, and he screwed his eyes shut. “I’m angry. I promised I wouldn’t get angry.”
    I felt hot and cold, as if someone had put poison in my heart and it had spread into my arms and legs. “Why are you angry? At me?”
    “Yes. Please leave me alone.”
    I didn’t know what to do. I felt sick—this was pretty much my worst fear, that I would upset someone I cared for but I wouldn’t know why, that I would upset Emmet and I wouldn’t be able to fix it. I could feel a panic attack coming, which would make things worse, but I couldn’t stop it. I went to the other corner of the hall, sat down and curled my knees to my chest with my forehead on my arms while I tried to breathe.
    His hand fell on my back again.
    “Jeremey, you can’t have a panic attack right now.”
    It was such a ridiculous statement I almost laughed, but it was too hard to breathe. It got easier, though, when he rubbed my back. The touch was hesitant, as if he didn’t know quite how to do it—but I still liked it. Emmet had a way of cutting through my fog, and I leaned into him.
    He let me. He doesn’t always want to be touched, but he was touching me now. He kept a heavy hand on my back, and then fingers brushed my hair. He crouched beside me, and he stroked me. Awkwardly, but he did it.
    It was wonderful. It made me, as the panic attack ebbed, a little aroused. And when he leaned into me, my leg against his groin—I realized he was aroused too.
    I looked up at him—and froze.
    He had his eyes shut, his fingers tangled in my hair and his erection pressed into my leg. His expression was still flat, but very focused.
    He was beautiful.
    Eventually he opened his eyes and looked down at me. His gaze was heavy-lidded, and for once he didn’t look away.
    He touched my lips with three fingers, and I shuddered.
    He kept his fingers there, tracing the outline of my lips. His gaze was off to the side, but somehow I could still feel him looking intently at me.
    “I need to tell you something important.”
    I nodded, trying not to dislodge those fingers.
    He rubbed the underside of my bottom lip. “I’m gay.”
    My heart flipped over. I’d figured as much, given the erection against my leg, but it was still a rush to hear it out loud.
    His fingers stilled, and I looked up at him. He kept his gaze on my mouth. “I’m not supposed to ask if you are.”
    I laughed—that was Emmet. Asking a question by saying he couldn’t ask it. Well, I could tell him, obviously. But it was still difficult to say the words. I made myself speak anyway. “I am too.”
    He smiled—again not meeting my gaze, but it made him so beautiful. “Good.”
    I touched his arm tentatively.
    He jerked away. “No light touches. But you can touch me harder.”
    I put my hand on his arm, a heavy touch.
    “Yes.” His hand on my back tightened. His erection against my leg grew as he leaned farther into me. “Jeremey, I’m attracted to you.”
    The words thrilled me though they didn’t tell me anything I hadn’t been able to figure out for myself. They let the feelings I’d been holding back come forward, made me bold. I gripped his arm. “Let’s…go to my room.”
    But he pulled away. “I can’t go into your room. It’s too messy.”
    Too…messy? I blinked at him. “You’re angry because my room is messy?”
    “Yes. I wanted to come see you, but your room is a disaster. I can’t be in there. No wonder you’re nervous. Nobody could feel okay in that room.”
    I didn’t know how to respond. It was true, my room was messy. The worst part was I’d picked it up before he came. In fact, I’d worked quite a long time at it. It had taken me all morning, and I’d had to take a nap afterward.
    I’d done my best, and it wasn’t enough. It might never be enough for Emmet.
    We could never live together, be together, because I was too messy. I was a mess.
    My breathing came sharp and fast, and I wanted to cry. Then I felt stupid for