“We know,” Indy says softly. “That’s why we want to do this right. We don’t want to hurt him.”
Looking at their earnest faces, I make a decision. “I’ll help you. He has a day off coming up if you’re still around.”
The relief on their faces is palpable. Tate reaches into his pocket and pulls out a business card. “We’ll be here. Here’s my number. Let us know when and where.”
As I take the card, I can’t help but think about how this revelation will affect Caspian. But looking at these men who seem so genuine in their desire to know their brother, I hope it might bring something good into his life.
CHAPTER 29
CASPIAN
I drift into consciousness, first aware of the warmth and then the weight of lips moving slowly up my shoulder blade toward my neck. Soft. Insistent. Real? My brain struggles to separate dream from reality, but the coffee-scented air and the scratch of morning stubble against my chin tell me this is definitely happening.
“Nate,” I whisper against those lips as I open my eyes, “was that in my dream?”
He pulls back just enough for me to see his face, his smile curving up at one corner in that way that makes my stomach do somersaults. “You were dreaming of me?” The words are barely more than a breath, warm against my mouth. “What kind of dream?”
I trace my finger along his jawline, feeling the rough texture of his morning stubble. The early Vermont winter sunlight filters through the half-drawn linen curtains. “Hmm, a very,verynice dream.”
His hand slides up my bare arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. “Tell me everything, Cas.”
The way he says my name makes me shiver. I stretch beneath him, feeling the pleasant weight of his body pressing me into the mattress. “Well, there might have been kissing involved.” I demonstrate with a quick peck to his lips. “And maybe some of this.” My fingers thread through his hair, drawing him down for a deeper kiss.
The room around us is a comfortable mess. My clothes from yesterday draped over a chair, a half-empty coffee mug on the nightstand next to a dog-eared paperback, and somewhere in the mess are notes and to-do lists for the coffee shop scribbled on a napkin. But right now, all I can focus on is the way Nate’s body feels against mine, the way his hands slide down my sides, the way his tongue traces the seam of my lips.
“You’re beautiful in the morning,” he murmurs, pulling back to look at me. I know what he sees. My hair is probably sticking up in every direction and my skin is warm from sleep and desire. His eyes travel over my face like he’s memorizing every detail, and I blush under the attention.
“I’ll argue you look way better,” I reply, but my attempt at casual falls flat when my voice comes out breathless. He grins, knowing exactly what he does to me.
The distant sounds of the small town waking up drift through the window. An occasional car passing by on the quiet street outside, birds welcoming the morning from the nearby trees. But here, in this cocoon of warmth and tangled sheets, time feels suspended.
I run my hands down his back, feeling the play of muscles under smooth skin. “You know,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady as his lips find that sensitive spot below my ear, “I thought I was dreaming because this feels too good to be real.”
Last night, we crashed at my place, but we could have equally crashed at his, and my romantic, dreamy heart is already wondering if we should break down the wall between our two places so we can bypass the front door.
He lifts his head and something in his eyes makes my heart stutter. “Better than a dream,” he says, and then his mouth is on mine again, hungry and demanding.
The kiss deepens, and I lose myself in the taste of him, in the way our bodies fit together like pieces of a puzzle. My hands roam over his shoulders, down his arms, mapping the territory that’s becoming as familiar as my own skin.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard.
“So,” he says, propping himself up on one elbow beside me, “was that better than your dream?”
I pretend to think about it, tapping my finger against my chin. “I don’t know. The dream was pretty good. Maybe we need more data points for comparison?”
His laugh is low and rich, sending shivers down my spine. “I think that can be arranged.” His hand slides lower, and suddenly, I’m very, very awake.
“More data points sounds very scientific,” I manage to say, even as his touch makes it hard to form coherent thoughts. “Very professional. Very—” I lose my train of thought as his mouth finds mine again, and this time, there’s nothing gentle about it.
The heat between us builds like a slow-burning fuse, and I find myself arching into his touch, wanting more, needing more. The words tumble from my lips before I can second-guess them. “Fuck me, Nate.”
He reaches toward the nightstand where I keep the condoms. The movement creates a slight distance between us, and I feel the loss of his warmth immediately. Something inside me shifts, a decision crystallizing in my mind.
“Wait,” I say, catching his wrist. He freezes, looking back at me with a question in his eyes. My heart is pounding, but not just from arousal. “Are you negative?”
The question hangs in the air between us, heavy with meaning. I watch as understanding dawns on his face, followed by a softening in his expression that makes my chest tight.
“I am,” he says, settling back beside me. His hand cups my face, thumb stroking along my cheekbone. “Got tested three months ago, and I haven’t been with anyone else since you’re also my New Year’s Eve hookup, and we wore protection. I can show you the results if you want.”
