His answering smile was bright with a hint of feral around the edges. “So bossy.”
“You love it.”
“I loveyou,” he answered, using his hold on my ass to shift me forward. He sat up a little to tease his mouth against mine as his fingers dug into the flesh of my ass. “Fiancé.”
He’d just said yes, but already I wanted to take him somewhere and make it official so he could call me husband instead. But one thing at a time. Grabbing the lube, I squeezed a generous amount into my hand, then reached behind me and stroked Reese’s cock, slicking him up for me. I positioned his cock at my entrance, then leaned forward and licked at the seam of his mouth again.
“I need you,” I told him, and in the next moment he was sliding into me, going slow because he knew I hadn’t prepped for him. But I hadn’t wanted to. I wanted to feel him. Wanted to feel him for days after.
“You have me.”
CHAPTER 8
Reese
Keepingour engagement a secret was torture, but at least I was fairly confident about what had been going on with Morgan. Cory and I both agreed we would wait to tell her until Thanksgiving, and he’d assured me that was positively acceptable because she’d known all along that it was coming. I was going to give her hell once it was out in the open, but in the meantime I was content to let her stew.
November had passed in a flash with Cory upping his game and coming up with new and creative ways to mark me, just like I’d asked him to, and it was finally Thanksgiving. The house smelled like turkey and sweet potatoes, and I sat on the back patio with a glass of wine and a cheeseboard to graze on while we waited for Morgan and her mystery yellow-tank-top-wearing girlfriend to show up. Cory’s phone rang, and he answered it on the first ring, laughing as he greeted whoever was on the other line.
“Jesus,” he said instead of a hello “Where are you?”
“At Ford’s,” a voice said.
Cory stood from his chair and came around to join me on the loveseat, his phone held in front of him with Kale’s face fillingthe screen. The background behind him looked a lot like chaos, a farmhouse kitchen filled with more men than I could count.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Reese,” Kale said to me, stare flickering between me and Cory and back again. “How are things?”
I looked to Cory, who gave me a nod.
I held up my hand in front of my face, showing him the ring.
Kale’s eyes went wide and his jaw slack, and his expression shifted from passive indifference to shock.
“He proposed?”
“He did.”
Kale narrowed his eyes at Cory. “You didn’t even tell me you were thinking about it.”
“Not everything is about you!” someone in the kitchen behind Kale shouted, and Cory’s laugh confirmed his agreement.
“You’ll get an invite to the wedding,” Cory promised, but Kale rolled his eyes.
“You’re the elopement type, and we both know it.”
Kale wasn’t wrong in his assertion. Cory and I had already talked more than once about what kind of wedding we wanted to have, and the words that continually came up for us were: quiet, intimate, peaceful, private.
From inside the house, the doorbell chimed, and I used Cory’s thigh to leverage myself onto my feet.
“That would be Morgan,” I said. “Good talking to you, Kale.”
“Same to you, future Mr. Callahan.”
I snorted a laugh, but secretly didn’t hate the sound of it.
Shoving my left hand into the pocket of my jeans, I headed for the front door. Morgan was there on the porch with a pie in hand and a beautiful—if not nervous looking—woman on her arm.
“Morgan,” I greeted her, taking the pie and stepping out of the way to let her in.
