Free Wildflowers by Fleet Suki Page A

through now, but the room is warm. He’s studying me, and I’m letting him. I don’t want to hide anything. I’ve never enjoyed being studied before but I want him to know me, to touch me like no one else.
    “Lie down with me,” he mouths, his fingers fumbling with the buttons on my jeans. “Be with me.”
    “You want to make me come?”
    A fiery blush stains his cheeks and he glances away, thick lashes dark against his skin. So beautiful.
    I reach across him so I can make a pillow of my shirt for his head, and we lie on our sides next to each other, awkward and uncomfortable, and yet somehow even this is perfect too.
    After bringing his hand to my mouth, I kiss his fingers before letting go and shifting so that I can push my trousers roughly down my thighs.
    The way he strokes himself and stares at my cock makes me hard as fuck. Smiling, I bat his hand away and trace swirls across his ribs, circling his nipples—teasing him. He watches my every movement through half-lidded eyes and arches into my touch as though all he needs is more, more, more.
    “Tell me… what you want,” I whisper, pausing between my words to lick along his jaw.
    But instead of telling me, Sam murmurs incoherently, touching me, pulling me close.
    I lap at his pulse point, drop lower to drag my teeth over his nipple. I bury my face in his armpit and feel his body quake and squirm. This is what I want. I want all of him.
    Squeezing my thumbs slowly back and forth along the ridges of his erection, I watch for clues of how close he is. But his mouth is open, his head back, his eyes squeezed shut tight, so I keep working him with both hands, meeting the tiny thrusts of his hips, and letting him fuck into my fists, the pressure so tight it must be a little painful. Sam gasps in breath after breath and then stops breathing entirely for a few seconds as warmth squirts into my hands over and over.
    He opens his eyes and smiles dopily at me, his hips still moving. My fingers are slick with his come. I want to rub it all over him—I want to rub it all over me.
    Keeping his gaze on mine, he takes hold of one of my sticky hands.
    “You,” I say, and he just smiles as he slides our fingers together, too relaxed to be embarrassed now. I bring our joined hands to my cock, loving the slipperiness, loving the feel of him sleepily jerking me off. I don’t try and make it last. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I don’t even watch our hands; holding eye contact with Sam is kind of doing me in. Fuck, this is intimate. I dip my head, not breaking his gaze for a second. I open my mouth against his, breathing his air, feeling connected to something basic and necessary and blindingly bright. Oh , I think. Oh fuck.
    After, we curl up together in the shower. Sam traces patterns through the mess on my stomach and I run my fingers up and down his spine. The shower drips raindrops on his hip in a hypnotic rhythm.
    “That has got to be the best sex in the worst place I’ve ever had,” I say eventually, and Sam snorts softly, his breath warm against my stomach.
    As soon I see him shiver just slightly, I suggest we clean ourselves up. I wrap him in the thin hospital towel the pretty nurse gave him and pull on my soaking clothes. I realize my excuse of somehow falling in the shower is not going to fool anyone, but I’m past giving a fuck. So, so past it.
    I’m past halfhearted gestures and I’m past denial. I’m embracing what I’ve got—even if all I’ve got is a chance.
    A chance is all any of us have, and I’m so fucking thankful I have it.

Chapter Sixteen
     
     
    TWO WEEKS pass. Sam grows stronger. Strong enough to take short walks. We go outside and walk around the weedy hospital garden. There are no wildflowers here, but there is sky and sunshine and the scent of summer drifting by. We stay out as long as we can. Sam likes being outside. He watches the birds.
    At half past two this afternoon, he’s seeing the consultant. We sit on the garden’s only