“I hope so too.”
***
By four o’clock, he and Winston had returned home, leaving Spencer with a hug before he hopped into his car.
“Don’t you dare screw this up,”Spencer had whispered to him.“He’s hot, and he wants you. I can tell. Go home and get laid.”
“You’re crazy.” Elliot pushed him into the Uber. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Now that the two of them were standing on his porch, sunlight streaking through Winston’s hair, the warm breeze drifting past them, fragrant with his mother’s roses, Elliot wished what Spencer had said was true: that they were coming home to make love. Still a bit woozy from the margaritas, he allowed his guard to slip.
“So…Spencer gets a ‘Call me Win,’ but I don’t, huh? What’s a guy have to do to get permission to call you by your nickname?”
Win pulled Elliot’s unresisting body close, and he almost melted in a puddle when Win nuzzled against his neck. “You can call me Win. Call me anything you like. As long as you call me.”
The pressure of Win’s lips on his sent his already fuzzy head spinning, and he clung to Win’s shoulders.
Mine. I wish I could call you mine.
