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Their mother comes for a visit.

She understood that I wanted to work for the money myself, so she decided on this instead. It's pretty nice of her if-"

"Are you on her side?" I glared at him.

Those sparkling eyes glance over at me and he flashes a smile to tell me I am foolish. "No. I'm just grateful, is all."

The rest of the car ride was pretty silent. No, I wasn't upset, and neither was he. More like I was just content and tired and ready to be home. Back to my normal life with Troy and Jesse. Sure, there's a lot of work I need to do as part of recovery. It isn't just rehab, then I go home and life is perfect. I'm not dumb enough to think that-but today I just want to enjoy my first day back. That's all.

We park next to my truck, which had probably sat in that same spot the entire time I was gone. Man, it was good to be back! The familiarity of everything is so welcoming to me. When we walk into the apartment Troy isn't there. "Where's the fuckface?"

"I don't know," he says, in a tone I cannot decipher. How odd.

"Well," I walk to the couch to put my bags down and he goes into the kitchen for something to drink. "Do you work today?"

"I . . . took the week off. I didn't want you to be alone very much."

"Troy will be here. What, you think I can't be alone? The addict will relapse the second he isn't being supervised?" I snap.

Once again, Jesse just smiles that knowing smile and walks toward me. "Someone is awful crabby. Oh come on, I'm joking. You know Troy has school. It's not like I think you need to be supervised." His playful demeanor trickles away, and he looks genuinely hurt by my remarks. "I just thought you wouldn't want to be alone . . . I know I wouldn't. I can imagine you need someone to lean on to avoid those temptations. You know, now that you have all this freedom."

I let my ass fall onto the couch and with a smack of the lips I apologize. "You're right. I'm just on edge today, I don't know why."

Jesse sits beside me and faces my direction. I smell his sweet scent and salivate. The glass from the coffee table clinks as he sets his drink down. He is sitting so close that not looking at him would be weird. "I've missed you."

I swallow but nothing is there. "Really?" I croak.

His right hand finds itself around the side of my neck-which is now scalding hot-and he ever so softly thumbs my cheek. The other hand holds a weak grasp on my jeans and I can just feel his hand touching my thigh. My eyes close and he leans in, brushing his nose against mine. Teasing me, making it so hard not to fucking beg. How I have waited for this-needed this. To taste him is my wildest dream. Our lips haven't even met and already I am so happy that if I died right now I'd feel I lived a full life.
Then there it is, and my lashes dampen. The softest, yet most passionate kiss I have ever and will ever have. People think passionate means tongue and aggression, right? Real passion is this: when lips can part and barely meet at all-yet still hold more emotion than any other thing on the planet ever could.

So much emotion, in fact, that I let out a small, inaudible moan of joy and heartache. The beauty of this moment hurts me; it is so much more than I ever imagined it. When I think it can't any better, the kiss deepens. His hand, which rested so gently around my neck, grabs at the back of it in desperation, and the one clutching my jeans now tugs at them-all working to achieve the common goal of getting me closer to Jesse.

Mouths open wider, soft tongues intertwining and dancing together in unison. I don't know how he does it, but he is the best kisser on the planet. Possessing such control-such dominance-all while being so insanely tender. I've never had a kiss so deep in my fucking life. When I think it can't get any deeper, he tilts his head and it does. Just like that. Take my word for it: this shit is crazy good. All I have the power to do is grab at his shirt and hang on as best I can.

The soft smacking sounds drive me insane, and my dick hardens so quickly.

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