He’s close to finishing. As his legs start to shudder, I take him out of my mouth but keep working his length. He reaches down and palms my breasts, squeezing them, relishing them. It’s my turn to shudder as the pressure between my legs builds. We lock eyes and he moans, spilling his warm seed all over my breasts. The sight of it tips me over the edge and I come too, shuddering and squirming from pleasure.

“That was so damn hot,” he says. He pulls me up and kisses me deeply, not caring that he was in my mouth just moments ago.

He presses his forehead to mine, slowing his breath, then runs the shower head over me, soaping and cleaning every inch of me.

Elias is taking his time; this is no longer anything sexual. He’s caressing every part of me, treating it like it’s made of glass.

I thought touching would never be a love language for me, but his touches spread warmth all over my body, no matter if it’s a tap on the shoulder or a gentle squeeze of my thigh.

“I want to take art classes,” I say suddenly. It’s something I’ve thought about a few times lately. It’s out of nowhere, but I want him to know. It’s a big step toward achieving my goal of doing something with my own talent. I’m pretty good at it and it gives me a dream to chase. Just like Elias.

He smiles down at me. “I think that’d be good. Maybe you could teach others one day, too?”

The suggestion warms my insides. I gaze up at him. I’m loving the idea of helping others on a road that was difficult for me to walk. Drawing is challenging, like anything else you love to do, because when you love something, you put your whole heart into it. If it starts to feel like that isn’t enough, you quit.

I’d love to look at art therapy in the future, too. People could learn techniques for drawing and painting, and at the same time, work on themselves.

Excitement lights up my features, and Elias nods, a grin taking over his beautiful full lips.

“I’d love that,” I confess.

He lowers and brushes his mouth over mine, making me quiver at the sweet tenderness of his kiss. His phone rings again. We break apart and he groans.

“I’ll be right back.” Elias gives my cheek a peck before stepping out of the shower to grab it.

“It’s Dad,” he announces before answering, and puts him on speakerphone as he dresses. “Hi Dad, what’s up?”

I turn off the shower, grab a towel, and join him in the bedroom. I can hear his Mom crying in the background and Tom is sobbing quietly.

My brain feels waterlogged, clouds and murky thoughts taking over. What the hell is going on?