Flock

He shakes his head. “Today is about you.”

“Trust me. It would be for me. It’s okay to be selfish,” I reply breathlessly.

He stops the hand I reach for him with and kisses the back of it.

“Sean, I’m not i

He threads our fingers. “No, but you’re more. A lot more.”

“You truly mean that? Considering what you confessed earlier?”

“You took that the wrong way.”

“Meaning what?”

He peers down at me, cupping my cheek with a warm hand, sliding his thumb along my mouth. “Meaning with you, right now, I’m feeling a little selfish.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“It’s a very bad thing.”

“How so?”

He drops his head on my stomach and groans.

My heart blossoms when he lifts his head to peer up at me, and we exchange a look, the rawness in his eyes lets me know I’ve made as much of an impression on him as he has me. In exchange for his silent confession, I give him an ounce of my trust. No more words necessary.

It’s on the return hike back to his car, where he takes great care to lift me into his hold, stopping me here and there for a kiss, lulling me with deep strokes of his tongue that I know I could fall for Alfred Sean Roberts. And today, a small part of me does.