“Yeah …” I lie down on his chest again.

“So does that mean you’re no longer mad at me?” he asks, petting my hair.

“Maybe,” I say. “But you’re still an asshole for making me worry about you.”

He grins. “Well, that’s partly your fault, as you’re supposed to look out for me.”

“Oh, bullshit.” I shake my head.

“So I guess you’ll have to make that up to me now,” he muses. “And I know just the way.”

“You dirty pig,” I say, but when he starts tickling me, I lose it.

I’m laughing like a crazy woman, cringing on his bed, wriggling like a snake, and I love it. I love every second that I can spend with this crazy bastard I call mine.

“So, does that mean we’re okay now?”

“I guess.”

“I can be with you without it being awkward?”

“It’s still awkward. You’re awkward,” I say.

He punches my arm softly. “Last time I remembered, you were the one always acting like you lost your damn mind.”

“No, I lost my heart,” I say.

He’s silent for a few seconds, and then he grabs me and hugs me tight. “I’m glad you say that … because the other day I found this heart lying on the asphalt. I thought I’d keep it safe in case you wanted it back, but seriously, you really have to take better care of yourself. You don’t want to lose your heart to some random stranger.”

I laugh. “But I’ll gladly lose it to you.”

He licks his lips. “Damn right. You lost your V-card to me too, so of course I’m gonna steal your heart, too.”

He pulls me closer and presses a hard kiss on my lips. Then he groans, twisting his body. “God, that leg hurts.”

“Don’t move too much; you don’t want to overdo it.”

“I’m still trying to get used to that damn cast,” he says. “Well, I guess that’s what you get for fucking up during a race.”

“I’m just glad you’re alive.”

“Yeah, me too. I lost that race, but there will be more chances, and I’ll surely win some of them,” he says proudly, and then his grin turns devilish again. “At least I finally got to race without blue balls because that fucking hurts on a bike. Just so you know.”

“Too much information!” I say.

“Lucky for the both of us that will never happen again,” he growls.

And then he grabs my shirt and hauls me toward him, kissing me full on the lips. My head spins, my heart bouncing out of my chest, as I feel free for the first time in my life.

“Fuck, I’ll never have enough of you,” he murmurs against my lips.

“Don’t stop,” I whisper. “I need to feel you.”

“Oh, you’ll feel me all right. And soon more than just on your lips.” The accompanying grin makes my heart flutter.

“Bring it on,” I say with a smile.

He bites his lip. “C’mere.” He kisses me again, and again, showering me with kisses, making me laugh. “God, I love that sound,” he says.

“I love you,” I mutter.

He stops for a moment and just looks at me as if he heard something funny from my mouth, which makes me blush even more.

“Say that again,” he says softly.

“I love you.”

He smiles, his hand cupping my face to caress my cheek. “I love you, too. I always have.”

“And I love you, Chris King.”

“Of course, you do.”

I slap him playfully. “You did not just say that.”

“Sure, I did.” He bites his lip. “You always loved me, even when you said you didn’t. You just hated yourself for it. And don’t you dare deny it.”

“Fine. I just couldn’t admit it to myself. But I’ve stopped hating you,” I muse. “Happy now?”

He grabs my face and pulls me toward him again with that same stupid grin on his face that I’ve come to love. “Yes.”

He smashes his lips to mine, warming my skin and my entire body. I kiss him back, equally desperate for more. I could do this forever. His kisses make me feel whole. I feel accepted for who I am. I feel like I could fly.

Chris is okay. I’m okay. We’re all okay.

And that’s more than I’ve ever been before.

I’m happy. So happy that he broke my barriers down and refused to give up on me. So happy that he’s here, and that he wants me, and that I’m fine with saying I want him just as much.

I’m happier than I ever knew I could be.

Epilogue

Chris

One week later …

In my wheelchair, I spin around my living room, seeing how fast I can go. I love to play around with it. It’s not as if I have anything else to do. I can’t race my bike, and I can’t get out of this damn wheelchair, so might as well make good of the situation.

On the plus side, I have Emily taking care of me real nice. She’s here day and night, waking me with sweet kisses and pancakes for breakfast. She’s a dream come true. If I had told my old self this was what would happen if only I’d persist, I don’t think I would’ve believed myself.

She finally wants me as much as I want her, and I’m making good use of that fact.

Just because I’m in a wheelchair doesn’t mean I can’t fuck my girl. There are plenty of ways to pleasure someone while bound to a chair. Speaking of which … whenever Emily walks past me, I smack her butt, making her squeal, which in turn makes me grin like a motherfucker. I’ll never be a nice guy, but the good thing is that I don’t think she wants me to be and I’m glad. I was never good at it. I’m a bastard and proud of it.

A temporarily handicapped bastard, but still.

The family has accepted our relationship quite well. I didn’t expect them to adjust to the new situation so easily, but it’s gone better than I expected. It makes it easier for Emily to cope with the fact that she’s in love with me. I don’t ever want her to feel guilty about her feelings again.

Of course, we still had to deal with the aftermath of our relationship getting out to the press. We figured that, since she works for me, they would find out one way or another, but it would be on our terms and with our story. All we had to do was make sure we fed the press the details slowly, so as not to portray me as some pervert, but more of a lost soul looking for love. Maybe we thickened it up a little with a few lies here and there, but most of it was true.

At first, people were at my door the entire day, wanting interviews, but we managed to get them off our backs by giving a simple statement. We wanted to be left alone in peace.

Emily enlisted Alyssa to catch any unwanted press releases and nip them in the bud before they blew up.

And after a while of just doing what we wanted, things settled down, turning back to normal within a few weeks. Except my horniness. That’ll never return to normal. Not since she’s in my house 24/7 with that ass bouncing around, picking up after things that I accidentally drop. Not so oops.

I’ll admit I’m a lucky motherfucker.

And I don’t take it for granted for even a single day.

“C’mere,” I say as she passes me, and I grab her waist and pull her onto my lap.

Her squeal makes me laugh as I nuzzle her hair and take in her scent. “You smell nice today.”

“Oh, only today?” she retorts.

“You smell nice every day, but today is particularly special,” I say.

“How come?”

“Because I just realized I haven’t fucked you yet.”

She blushes and hides a grin behind her soft hair, shaking her head.

“What?” I growl, pulling her closer to press a kiss to her lips. “I know you want it, too.”

“I still need to clean,” she says.

“Clean later.” I press more kisses on her lips, almost making it impossible for her to talk. I don’t want to hear any more excuses about why we shouldn’t do this. We’ve done that long enough. Now’s the time to enjoy what we have.

“But your house is a mess,” she mutters, hanging on my lips.

“And it’s gonna be an even bigger mess when I’m done with you.” I groan into her mouth before taking her with my tongue, probing her mouth eagerly.

“Oh, god …” she moans.