“Things are fine with Ronan,” I answered quickly. “They’re always fine with Ronan. He is the least of my concerns.”
"What then?” he pressed.
“We’ve been trying some new things…”
“He hasn’t hurt you, has he?” Colton was quick to ask.
“Never.” I closed my eyes and rubbed the bridge of my nose. “I wish you would stop asking that. It’s been a year, Colton. My life choices have got me this far, they’re not going to fail me now.”
“I just don’t get how you let someone make decisions for you.”
I started to interrupt him, to tell him I didn’t let Ronan make decision for me, that our relationship was a partnership and we both had a say, but that hadn’t exactly been true lately. I’d agreed to try the 24/7 thing, agreed that maybe I might have some submissive tendencies, and maybe it was okay for Ronan to explore those a little bit more. Yet another thing I didn’t know how to quantify or explain to my best friend.
“My relationship is fine,” I said instead.
“Okay.”
“You sound condescending,” I told him.
“No, I don’t.”
“You do. You sound like you’re trying to placate me.”
Colton groaned. “I am, Kevin. I don’t get how you can like the things you like, but you’re my best friend.”
“I’ve been this way forever.” My voice grew louder. “None of this is new. I’ve been with Ronan for over a year, Colton.”
As if on cue, the front door opened and Ronan appeared, looking worse for wear. He kicked off his black sneakers and dropped his messenger bag on the floor at his feet. The self-closing door clicked closed behind him, and he shuffled into the living room, eyes downcast. I picked my phone up from beside me and Ronan collapsed onto the couch, dropping his head onto my lap and closing his eyes. I moved my phone to my other side and settled one of my hands on Ronan’s head, carding my fingers through his tangled brown hair.
“Okay,” Colton said again, same patronizing tone.
“I’m tired of this being the only conversation we ever have,” I said gently. Ronan reached up and curled his fingers around my wrist, dragging my hand down so he could kiss my palm, then returning it to his hair.
Yeah, my problems were definitely not Ronan.
“Let Darius get the hot tub,” I said, “Ronan just got home; I need to go.”
“Did he hear what I said?”
“Not the bad parts, Colton,” Ronan’s voice rumbled against my leg, “but I know you said them anyway.”
“Kevin!” Colton protested loudly.
“Get the hot tub. Everything is fine.” I picked up my phone to end the call. “I’ll talk to you soon. Tell Darius I said hello.”
I tapped the red phone icon and tossed my cell over the arm of the couch onto the side table. Ronan rolled onto his back, blinking up at me with tired eyes.
“Long day?” I asked, pushing his hair away from his face.
He nodded. “Are you cooking?”
“Are you hungry?” I always cooked, and served. It was one of the routines we’d fallen into, one of the things Ronan had used to point out my submissive inclinations. I’d planned on making something for him after he’d gotten home. There was chicken thawed in the fridge, he just had to say the word.
Ronan rolled onto his side, so his cheek pressed against my crotch and his nose against my stomach. He inhaled deeply, groaning and curling against me. One arm snaked around my back, holding me in place as he nuzzled against me.
“I am,” he murmured, breath hot against my skin. He’d rucked up my shirt and had started dragging his nose over the waistband of my jeans, peppering kisses as he went.
“For food?”
