“You’re absurd,” he countered quickly, rolling his eyes and folding his arms across his chest. There was no actual way Sebastian could think Remington was out of his league.
“I think it’s adorable,” Callahan interjected from across the table, and Remington’s blush deepened. “They’ll be good for each other. Sebastian can help Remington relax, and Remington can… teach him some new words.”
“My vocabulary is fine,” Sebastian snapped.
“I don’t need to relax.”
“You kind of do.” Jace shrugged. “But we don’t need to talk about it. Let’s just have some French toast.”
“Order for me,” he said to Jace. “I need to use the restroom.”
He pushed away from the table and made his way back through the maze of tables on the patio and into the restaurant. He hadn’t reached the bathroom before Sebastian caught up to him, reaching around and pushing the door open for him.
“Did you know Jace and Callahan met in a bathroom?” Sebastian asked as the door closed behind them.
“I did.” Remington bent over the sink and stared at himself in the mirror. He needed to get himself together.
There were many times in his life where Remington wondered if he was fit to be in public. There had been so many times when he’d said too much, talked for too long, overstayed… But worst of all, he overthought. Everything. Every move, every choice, every decision.
He needed to face that, admit that about himself, before he could change. Before he could be this man Sebastian thought he was.
“I know a lot of things,” he said, to his reflection and Sebastian. “But I don’t know how to do this.”
“I do.” Sebastian shrugged and stood next to him, bringing his face into focus in the mirror.
“I haven’t been in a relationship before.”
“I have.”
Remington pursed his lips. “You deserve someone who knows what they’re doing.”
“I don’t even know what I’m doing.” Sebastian bumped their arms together, then sobered. “My marriage was a joke; it was a cry for help because I needed to take control of my life. Marrying Daniella wasn’t what I needed. This. You. That’s what I need.”
“You want to take control, so you give me control,” he muttered.
“It’s my choice. On my own terms.” Sebastian slid his arm around Remington’s waist and pulled him close. “I bet that isn’t in any of your books.”
“Not as concisely,” he agreed.
“Is what we did on Friday in your books?”
“No.”
“Is the list making, the scheduling?” Sebastian shivered. “Is that in your books?”
“No,” he answered.
“Then you’re doing fine. Better than fine.”
“I don’t think you’re supposed to be the one reassuring me,” he said.
“I know this won’t mean much, coming from a divorcee,” Sebastian paused and patted his hand down the front of his chest, “but all relationships have give and take. It’s fine if you need to take right now.”
“Sebastian,” he whispered, words and feelings catching in his throat like barbs.
They reached for each other at the same time, mouths and teeth crashing together. Sebastian’s hands flew into his hair and Remington groaned, taking Sebastian’s bottom lip between his teeth and biting down. They kissed furiously, frantically, until Remington forced them apart, sucking in a much needed breath.
“We can’t go back out there with erections,” he panted, looking down at the matching bulges between their legs.
