“I don’t know if you know this or not but there won’t be any guns blazing or things catching on fire and blowing up inPride and Prejudice,” I inform him.
He smirks at me. “I'm aware.”
“You’ve seen it?”
“Seen it and enjoyed it.” I raise my eyebrows. Why does that surprise me? It really shouldn’t.
“You like chick flicks?” I ask.
“Not many. But this one, yes.”
“What are the others?”
He smiles. “You know if you don’t stop talking we’re going to miss it.”
I smile back and nudge him. “They have these fancy things now called remotes that let you rewind, you know. Just tell me.”
“Runaway Bride,You’ve Got Mail,Ever After,While You Were Sleeping,Thirteen Going on Thirty, and this one. There might be a few more but I can’t think of them right now.”
I nod, then rest my head against his shoulder as the movie plays. The warmth of his body seeps into me, and for the first time in a long time I feel at peace.
ChapterSix
PAUL
Charlie falls asleep on my shoulder while we’re watching tv. It makes it a little awkward when I have to get up and use the bathroom, but I manage to slide out from under him and rest his head on the couch while I go do my business. I sit back on the couch when I return to the living room, lifting his legs and sitting down with his feet in my lap. I don’t think I ever noticed how dainty his feet are, and the thought of his cute little toes being painted makes me smile. I don’t have any nail polish in the house but I’d be more than happy to get some for him if he wanted it. Hell, I’d kneel at his feet and paint his toenails for him. All he’d have to do is smile at me. Shit, this boy has me wrapped around his little finger already.
My fingers ache to touch his feet, his toes, massage them with my hands. Then I think of having his toes in my mouth, licking and sucking on them, making him moan and look at me with his eyes glazed over, his mouth parted, and oh god, I’m getting hard. Shit, I can’t have an erection with his feet on my lap. Fuck. I bite my lip and close my eyes, willing myself to think of something vile and disgusting.
Then I hear a groan, and Charlie shifts. I don’t even think, I just shove his legs away and leap off the couch like my pants are on fire. If he feels me being even a little bit hard against his feet I will be mortified, and fucking hell, so will he.
“Papa Bear?” he says, rubbing his eyes and then gazing up at me all sleepy and adorable. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I lie, my chest constricting. “Just, uh, gotta make dinner now.”
“I didn’t realize it was that urgent,” he says, giving me a sassy smirk, and of course my cock twitches when I’d just talked it down. Fuck, why does he have this effect on me? I fucking hate it. And I fucking love it. His sass is just as sexy as the rest of him. Fuck, I can’t think that. I can’t. He’s a kid. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Papa Bear?” he says again, his brows furrowed. “You sure you’re okay?”
No, no I’m not. I'm a forty-six-year-old man having completely inappropriate thoughts about a boy who’s barely legal, and it shouldn’t affect me like that when he calls me Papa Bear. But I love it. It makes me feel like I belong to him, and he belongs to me. And I love that idea more than I should.
“Besides,” he says, pulling away the blanket he’s been under and standing up—he stretches his arms over his head and I get an even better view of his abdomen when his crop-top rides up. “I’m making dinner, remember?”
Oh, right, I guess I forgot that in all my horniness and guilt. “Yeah, right,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “I’m gonna go take a shower, then.”
I head down the hall and into the bathroom. I strip and turn the water on, then step under the shower head.
I have to use every bit of self-control I have to not jerk off to thoughts of that boy.
* * *
We eat our dinner in relative silence and I feel like it’s my fault. He’s done nothing wrong, but I can’t figure out what to say and I worry he knows why I’m acting so differently. Maybe I should have jerked off in the shower, because now I’m grumpy and horny instead of just horny. I took a cold ass shower to try and make myself calm down, which worked until I came back out and saw Charlie in the kitchen. Those jeans accentuated his ass so perfectly, and the few inches of skin I got to see due to his crop top, oh god. It was even better when he stood on tiptoes to reach something from one of the high up shelves and his shirt rode up a little bit more, his stomach sinking in. Every part of me wanted to race over there and drag him into my arms and press my lips to that pale skin. He looked so fucking pretty. Apparently my dick thought so too, because it perked right back up, and I’m trying to hide my hard on while we eat.
My suspicions are confirmed when he says, “Did I do something wrong?”
He sounds more angry than hurt. “No,” I tell him, trying to sound casual. “Of course not.”
He returns his gaze to his food but he doesn’t eat, just picks at it with his fork. Honestly it’s delicious. Just spaghetti and meatballs, but they are the best I’ve ever had. “You’re lying,” he says, and I jerk my head up to face him again.
