“You silver-tongued devil,” I teased. “So romantic.”
Gage wrapped his arms around my neck. “You like that, huh?”
“Mmm. It’s like if a stalker wrote Hallmark cards.”
He sighed. “My poetic genius is one of my best attributes and is sadly underappreciated around here.”
“Oh, I appreciate all your attributes,” I told him. I slid my hands down to cup his ass, which was firm and warm beneath the thin athletic shorts. “Some more than others.”
He gave an outraged squawk that might have been convincing if you weren’t close enough to see his teasing smirk or the heat kindling in his pretty, pretty blue eyes. Because I was, and because I could, I leaned in and kissed that smirk right off his mouth.
I’d intended it to be a quick kiss before we finished our conversation, but by the time I pulled back, we were both panting, and his eyes were unfocused.
“So… um. What were we talking about?” he asked breathlessly. His fingers crept up the back of my shirt.
I dipped my head and ran my tongue along the smooth, tan expanse where his neck met his shoulder. “Boston, I think? Something about that? I don’t know.”
“Right. Yes.” He tilted his head to give me better access and rubbed his growing erection against my hip. “Fuck yes. Okay. We should… we should talk about that. Decide about that. Because if you… if you have dreams and…fuck, yes, do that again… and things you want to do in life… you tell me. Gage’s Dream Fulfillment Service. Limited clientele, open 24/7.”
There were all sorts of serious, mawkishly sentimental thingsI could have—and would much later—say in response to a statement like that, but at the moment, I couldn’t remember them.
“Come to think of it, there is one thing I want to do,” I growled instead, cupping him through the thin fabric. “And I think it will be very fulfilling to me, personally.”
“Yeah?” Gage’s hand slid up to the back of my neck, pulling me closer. “Tell me all about it.”
The invitation in his eyes was unmistakable, and I crushed my mouth to his, backing him against the wall beside the fireplace. His arms wound around my neck immediately, his body arching into mine like it had been more than a day and a half since I’d last fucked him.
Our kiss was a little bit desperate, a little bit relieved, and a whole lot devastating.
“Bedroom,” he gasped between kisses.
But I shook my head. “Too far. Seizing this dream right here.”
Gage’s laughter turned into a moan, and he thunked his head back against the wall as I dropped to my knees. “Oh, fuck. What has gotten into you, boyfriend?”
“You,” I said. One brief tug and his shorts surrendered to gravity. “It’s always only you.”
I took him into my mouth without preamble, loving the way he inhaled sharply and tangled his fingers in my hair. The salty, addictive taste of him, the breathy sounds he made, were familiar but more intense than usual, like every fucking sensation had been dialed up to eleven.
Apparently, a night on the couch was a powerful aphrodisiac.
“Fuck, Knox,” he groaned above me. “I need… I need…”
I knew exactly what he needed—and didn’tthatmake me feel ten feet tall, knowing I knew exactly what this beautiful man needed?—so I released him just long enough to retrieve the lube we kept in the side table drawer. Within seconds, Iwas on my knees again, working him open with my fingers and driving him crazy with my mouth until his abs were clenched and his thighs trembled.
“Oh, shit,” he breathed. “Shit. Knox, please?—”
I pulled off him just long enough to meet his gaze, the blue of his eyes so lust-bright it burned me. “You can take it, baby. Do it for me. Gage’s dream fulfillment service, hmm?” I tapped his dick against my tongue, and he whimpered. “Don’t come until I tell you.”
I lowered my head again, taking him deep and swallowing around his length while he muttered curses and obscenities that only fueled me. Because one ofmyfavorite pastimes was figuring out exactly how to make the man I loved come apart on my tongue, on my dick, and in my ass.
When I was satisfied that he was right on the edge, exactly where I wanted him, I rose to my feet. His eyes were glazed, his cheeks red, his chest sweaty, like he’d been fighting a hard battle.
“So good for me,” I whispered, touching his cheek. Then I turned him and pushed his palms flat against the wall.
The sight of his tanned skin against the cream-colored paint he’d chosen when we’d first moved in—“I don’t know why it’s called Milkmaid White, Knox, and donotmake it weird, okay?”—did things to my stomach. Things that were beyond lust, and wanting, and even beyond the love I’d felt for him all those years ago.
Gage was part of my soul now. The very best part. The fine, golden threads of him were woven so inextricably into the fabric of my family, my world, mylife, that I couldn’t pluck them out if I tried. He was it for me, forever. There would be no moving on, no matter what happened. And maybe I wasn’t the best at telling him that in words—he was the serial-killer-poet of the two of us—so I needed him to know it now.
