We reach my car. “I’m really proud of you, though. It’s awesome that you’re going forit.”
“Well, I am kind of awesome,” he says, full of conceit, reminding me of his father. He offers that friendly smile he pulls off so well, his left brow raised, strutting with just a little too much confidence, which makes melaugh.
“You arrogantbastard.”
As our laughter settles, Ty adds, “The guys aren’t giving you any grief over being with Eric, arethey?”
I’m surprised by the question, but as I check his expression again, I can see his genuineconcern.
“Because if they are, I can find something to give them hell about.” He shares another wink with me, like he’s being playful, but I can tell he’s serious. He wouldn’t stand for any of the guys giving me a hard time overit.
“No, they’ve been really good tome.”
“I’m glad to hear that, because if anyone gets to give you shit, it’sme.”
It’s apparent he’s trying to defuse the tension, but I don’t doubt for a moment that if anyone said something to me, Ty would come to my defense. It’s more than I deserve, and I wonder if Ty knows how much I appreciateit.
He changes the subject quickly to a podcast we both listen to, and we discuss the previous episode, one I’m not caught up on yet, so he spends some of the ride back to his place sharing this bit about a cult in Washington State. After dropping him off, I head home. Well, to Eric’s condo, which feels like it’s somewhat become myhome.
These days, I spend most of my timethere.
With Eric Westright—the love of my life, the man who, like a hurricane, slammed through my heart and wreaked havoc on my world. We made such a mess together, but there’s something so beautiful about standing in this pile of rubble together. After the past few months, I’m more confident than ever that we’re going to find ourway.
When I reach his unit, I slide my key into the lock and turn it, then push through thedoor.
I’m eager to see his face…to see my Eric in all hisglory.
As I round the corner, I catch him walking through the short hall, from the master bedroom into the living area. With a towel around his waist, his dark locks soaked, he’s a vision. Every time he steps out of the shower reminds me of that first time we met, when he was equally soaked, looking all rugged, fierce, and brimming with confidence. He’s tall and stacked with thick muscles, the ridges of his abs clearly outlined under the fluorescent kitchen lights as he walks alongside the main bar. The light illuminates the colors in his sleeve tattoo across his left arm and pec. He struts as though he knows how beautiful he is, not in general, but specifically tome.
He doesn’t wear the stoic expression he did during that first introduction, though. He’s all smiles, the way I must surely look right now as I head towardhim.
He runs his right hand through his nearly black hair. I love when it’s damp like that, especially when we’ve worked hard in the bedroom to get it thatway.
I notice the bulge shifting beneath the towel as he approaches, and I appreciate the movement in my own pants as well. It’s always been this way. As soon as we enter each other’s sights, we’re rock-hard, ready to go. I keep wondering when the thrill will subside…when we’ll just be this couple who’s worked out all the sexual tension and fucked until it becomes the most mundane thing in the world. Certainly hasn’t happened yet, and I’m not sure how it could ever happen with myEric.
“Hey, stud,” he says as we meet halfway. He hooks an arm around me and pulls me close to him, flush against his body. His skin’s still warm from theshower.
As his lips capture mine, I relax into his kiss, appreciating the way his scruff rubs against my face, the way his tongue awakens a familiar hunger within me as it slides into mymouth.
He guides me back and to the side until I’m up against the column beside the kitchen, and I’m delighting in the moment, letting my nerves relish the thrill he’s aroused withinme.
2
Eric
Islidemy tongue across his. Between the warmth of his body and his scent, desire radiates through me like white fire searing across my flesh. I bask in each breath he takes, each moan he offers as he surrenders to me. Each sound he makes is a song filling my soul withlife.
“Oh, Jesse,” I say, breaking our kiss for a moment before planting my mouth firmly back against his. When I pull away from his lips, his eyes are still closed, his mouth hanging open in eager anticipation of anotherkiss.
His dark hair is slightly disheveled, the way it tends to be after he’s hung around his guys. He’s got a slight tan from playing in the park with his buddies throughout the summer, looking a few shades darker than he did when we firstmet.
As I take in his beauty, his eyelids flutter, allowing me to see those chestnut-brown eyes, and the edges of his lips curl into his dimples. He’s grown a bit of a goatee over the past fewweeks.
“I like this,” I tell him as I lift my hand to his face and run my thumb through the hair across his chin, taking a moment to enjoy the sensation of the dip in thecleft.
“Really? I was thinking I might need to shave it. Some of us can’t grow this impressive amount of hair all over ourfaces.”
Surely I’m glowing from his compliment. He has that effect onme.
