And right there, on the brick patio outside of Drip, Ian kisses me, his lips hungry and urgent. Pulling back, he traces the line of my jaw. “I’ve always been yours, Booker. I just lost my way for a minute. But I never stopped loving you.”
“You know that sickness you were telling Mel about? The kind that’s gonna keep us locked in my room for the foreseeable future? I think I’m catching it, so we need to get back to my place as soon as possible.”
“My car is in the lower lot,” he says, linking his arm in mine as I follow him down the path. “You’re going to let me give you a proper apology, right? Going to listen while I explain all about my savior complex, and how I promise to never be such an asshole again?”
“You weren’t an—ok, you were. But I get it. It hurt like crazy, but I understand,” I tell him.
“Booker,” he begins, stopping our progress down the path. “I need you to know—”
I stop his words with a finger to his lips. “I know. And you can explain all you want. There’s not much I love more than listening to you. But before the groveling stage, comes the fucking stage.”
He fakes shock. “Booker Zabek, such language!”
“My mouth is gonna get a lot filthier after you fill it with your cock. So take me home, Ian,” I say, and for once, my boyfriend says nothing. He just does as I ask.
* * *
The driveback to The Chapel takes forever. Okay, it probably takes less than three minutes, but it feels like an eternity. Finally, we’re up the stairs and walking into my room. Vaguely, I hear hellos and cat calls from my crew, but they can wait.
Getting Ian naked can’t.
He leans into me and kisses me soundly, his hands roaming all over my body. I melt into his arms, savoring the feel of his body on mine. I’ve missed it so much. I peel his t-shirt off, revealing beautiful, freckled skin. I kiss every inch before he moans and pulls back, unbuckling his belt and tugging his jeans down.
I do the same with my shorts and t-shirt as he pulls back the covers. I open my bedside drawer to grab the condoms and lube. My cock throbs in agreement, and I stroke myself.
“Hey,” Ian says, “I think that’s mine.”
“Yeah? Then come and get it,” I tease, lying back on the bed, palming my dick, and waiting for him to join me. Soon, we’re gloriously naked and tangled up in each other on my bed. Our hands and lips are everywhere, and it’s not enough. I breathe him in, needing more of his skin on mine. He takes us both in his hand and I gasp at the pleasure. Breaking our kiss, I pant, “God, Ian, I need to fu—” But before I can finish my thought, there’s a knock on the door. Ian stills in my arms, and I turn my head to see my best friend in the doorway.
“Oh, hey, I don’t want to interrupt, but I just wanted to make sure Ian tells you we tried to help. And I offered to make t-shirts.”
“Yeah, cool. Uh…I’m naked and so’s my boyfriend, so can we maybe talk later?”
“Sure. Yeah, no. Totally. Sorry.” He’s gone for about three seconds before he pops his head back in. “Hey, look, I know you’re busy. I don’t wanna keep you, but when you have a sec, I want to talk about your prostate.”
“What?”
“Well, notyourprostate, specifically. Mine. I hear it’s like this magic button and I just want to know if—”
In my arms, Ian grumbles, and I stifle a laugh. This is my life now.
“No problem, buddy, but later, ok?”
“Yeah, no worries,” Whit assures me, still standing in the doorway. “I just—”
“Whit,” Ian calls, “unless you want a visual on the fucking bliss of getting your prostate dicked, you should go now.”
This does not deter my best friend in the least. “Not gonna lie, that’s pretty hot.”
Ian growls, and Whit beats a hasty retreat. “You know what? Later works. Later’s good.”
“Shut the door!” Ian yells.
We hear footsteps, and then the click of the door as Whit closes it soundly.
Turning back to Ian, I smile. “Damn, I like this possessive streak.”
Ian kisses me. “Yep. I’m possessive. And apparently, I like being a hero. And like I warned you months ago,I’m not bossy, I’m just the boss. Is any of that going to be a problem?”
