“I know. I was so fucking horny for you I couldn’t let you touch me without getting a hard on.”
I grin wider as I keep working. I move down to his low back, and he instantly jerks and lets out a hiss when I hit a tender spot. “Mmmm, you’ve got a trigger point here,” I tell him. “Breathe in and try to relax while I loosen it.”
He does, though he’s still a bit tense, and I decide to ease up on the pressure, which seems to help.
“Ooh, that’s good,” he murmurs. “You can go a little harder again.”
I do, and the knot in his back loosens gradually, making him sigh. I can’t describe how happy it makes me to take care of him this way.
By the time I’m finished and moving his underwear down just enough to press a soft kiss to his ass, he’s boneless, and I swear he’s asleep until I hear, “You kiss all your clients on the ass?”
I chuckle. “Just the cute ones.”
He huffs. “I better be the only cute one.”
“You are,” I promise, pressing another kiss to his shoulder. “Sleep. I’ll be right back.”
I move into the bathroom to wash myself off, and then climb back under the covers, scooting close to share Alex’s pillow since Marble has managed to confiscate mine.
“Bentley?” Alex says, startling me.
“I thought you fell asleep.”
“Sing to me,” he says. “I haven’t heard you sing since Peyton’s party and you’re so sexy when you sing, so sing me to sleep.”
I chuckle and pull him close, his head resting on my chest and my finger sliding up and down his back. “As you wish, darling,” I say. I start singing one of Gram’s favorite songs, “Hallelujah” by Leonard Cohen, and Alex is snoring softly moments later.
Chapter Twenty
Alex
Several hours later we’re sitting around my parents’ dinner table with Tommy and Pierre, eating the arroz con pollo that Mom and Dad made, talking and laughing.
“Alejandro, your brother tells us you and Bentley are dating,” Mom says, and then gives me a withering look. “Why did I have to find this out from him and not you?”
I grimace. “Sorry, Mom, it’s fairly new and I just hadn’t gotten around to it, yet.”
“Hadn’t gotten around to it,” she repeats, and Dad shakes his head, grinning. “I gave you life and this is how you treat me.” Her words are stern but her gaze is playful, and I know she’s not really upset. “Well, if you decide to get married I hope I find out before the wedding day.”
“Mom,” I say, flushing, and glancing at Bentley who’s doing the same. “We’re nowhere near thinking about marriage.”
“The two of you would look so handsome wearing tuxes and standing under a beautiful archway,” she croons.
“She’ll have names for your children by the time dinner is over,” Dad says, and she smacks his arm.
“Oh, you are all horrid,” she says. She thankfully changes the subject then and I let out a sigh of relief. I’m crazy about Bentley, but we haven’t even been dating for a month, and while I want to get married someday, I’m sure not ready to walk down the aisle just yet. Though I have to admit, when I picture my future–one, three or even five years from now, there’s no one I’d rather have in it than him. Building a life with him, a home, sounds amazing.
Pierre tells us how his college courses are going, and how busy he is with final exams coming up, and I notice he seems happier, despite the conversation Tommy and Cyrus had at the bar last night.
When the meal is over and the table has been cleared I take a moment to ask how he’s doing, and he smiles at me, gripping Tommy’s hand. “Still figuring things out, but I’m hopeful,” he says.
“We’re hopeful,” Tommy says, giving Pierre’s hand a squeeze. I still can’t get over the effect Pierre has on my brother. No one can melt Tommy’s heart like his husband can.
When Mom and Dad emerge from the kitchen once more they’re carrying pina coladas for everyone, and a virgin one for Pierre. We move into the living room and visit some more while we drink, Mom and Dad regaling Bentley with stories from my childhood and embarrassing me to pieces by breaking out one of our old photo albums. Mom is so excited about it she practically shoves me aside to sit next to Bentley and opens the book on both of their laps.
“He was such a beautiful baby,” Mom gushes as she flips through photos of me from when I was an infant, making me groan. Bentley has the biggest smile on his face though, and I can’t complain when he’s so fucking happy.
He laughs when he sees a picture of me at age eight, in a dress and shirt from the 1860s, holding a book in my hand and smiling widely.
