“Are the kids in bed?” I sat on the couch, placing my socked feet on the coffee table.
“Artemis was an angel, but Augustus put up a fight.”
I bit my lips closed so I wouldn’t laugh as River looked up from the book that had two semi-naked men embracing on the cover. “You picked the names. You should know they come with an attitude.”
“It’s your turn to put them to bed tomorrow. You know how I feel about consistency. Don’t ruin my hard work, dear.”
And then he went back to the book, his shoulders shaking as he tried to contain his own laugh.
“Hmm. You know what this means.” I leaned over and whispered, “We can make sweet love all night long.”
I stood and went over to my room to get ready for a shower as River let out a belly laugh.
The joke had started when I’d come home from work on River’s first day off since I’d moved in and had startled him with my arrival. Usually, I was in bed by the time he got in from the restaurant. Some days, he was up before me to go to the fish market, and some days, I left before he was up.
The whole thing had escalated to me finding River one evening in the kitchen, barefoot, in his book-quotes pajama pants and apron—no shirt—cooking dinner, and now it seemed we already had fictitious children.
I wrapped a towel around my waist and stepped into our shared bathroom. My cock hardened as the scent of River’s body wash filled my nostrils. I was like Pavlov’s dog. One whiff of the smell and I was back in the hotel room, listening to the sounds of him jerking off. My name on his lips as he came. And what it all meant.
Like every other day since I’d moved in with River, I ignored the need to touch myself. At first, I’d tried to think of anything other than River, but my dick wasn’t cooperating. As soon as I’d picture the curves of some imaginary woman, sucking her nipples into sweet peaks or kissing her soft skin, my erection deflated faster than a balloon with a pinprick hole.
I was going out of my mind and didn’t know what to do. The obvious was too risky. How could I tell River I spent my awake moments thinking about his body against mine and how, instead of grossing me out, it lit a fire within me? How could I tell him that suddenly, his lips were the most fascinating thing in the world? How could I tell him I didn’t know what it all meant and was scared to do something wrong and lose him.
I’d read more about demisexuality, and with every passing day since that last night at the hotel, I wondered more and more if River felt something more than just friendship for me. But hisbehavior hadn’t changed. He treated me just like he always had. A best friend.
A rough laugh escaped me as I stepped into the warm shower. I was still hurting from what Victoria did, but the thought of losing River like I did Victoria? That was so unfathomable that I’d decided there was no way I could ever risk it.
So, in two short weeks, I’d resigned myself to living with blue balls until this phase passed. It would, right?
When I returned to the living room, the smell of tomato sauce pulled me toward the kitchen.
“If my parents ever find out your favorite food is Italian, you’ll be so fired,” I joked.
“You will keep your mouth shut, Adam Spencer.”
I joined him by the stove, where he was stirring the sauce with one hand and the pasta with the other.
“Or what?” I teased.
“Or your enjoyment of this food will be relegated to smelling it from afar.”
“Now that’s just mean.”
He glanced at me, a smile teasing his lips. Those fucking full lips.
I cleared my throat, looking away. “Need a hand?”
“Sure,” he said, oblivious to the errant thoughts inside my head. “Can you grab the Parmesan?”
I moved closer, our bodies almost touching as I looked for the cheese I assumed was already on the counter. My breath hitched at the proximity. River’s gaze met mine, and he smiled. “Fridge.”
“Yes. I knew that.” I turned my back to him to open the fridge. The cool air brushed against my skin, but it did nothing to stop the heat that flushed my skin.
He drained the pasta and turned the heat off the sauce. His practiced moves as he grated the cheese over the sauce were mesmerizing, and I had to force myself to look away.
“I’ll set the table,” I said, grabbing two glasses from the cupboard.
We moved around each other comfortably, grabbing utensils and drinks until we sat at his table facing each other. I didn’t miss how domestic it all felt.
