“Mine,” I whisper into his neck. “All fucking mine now.” “Jesus Christ, Nate,” he whimpers my name, curling his fingers around the sheet. “What?” “Nothing, I just…I never thought this would happen,” he admits. “Not in a million years.” “But you wanted it to,” I point out, remembering all the times I caught him staring at me while he’d be hanging out at my house, the looks he’d give me when I passed him in the halls at school. “You’ve always wanted this, haven’t you, party boy?”
