“Mmm, now this is the way to wake up.” He slung an arm around Win’s neck, and their tongues danced and tangled together.
“I fell asleep on you.” Win groaned. “That’s embarrassing.”
“I understand. You were worn out and exhausted. How about you take a shower while I make us some breakfast?”
Win’s eyes lit up. “Ohh, pancakes? And can we have them in bed?” Unguarded and still soft and blurry with sleep, Win looked like a kid, and Elliot’s heart tumbled in his chest.
“You’re cute.” Elliot kissed him on the nose. “And yeah. Anything you want.”
Win swooped in to catch another kiss, then bounced out of bed. “I’m going to take a shower, and I should be ready when you’ve finished.”
“Sounds good.”
Standing in the doorway of the en-suite bathroom, Win stuck his head out. “Can I borrow some clothes?”
“Sure, anything you want.”
With a wink and an air kiss, Win disappeared, and moments later Elliot heard the sound of the shower running. More at peace than he’d ever felt, Elliot pulled on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt and ran down the steps to the kitchen. Whistling, he mixed up the ingredients, and left the batter to set. He poured the water and scooped out the grinds for Win’s coffee and made his tea. Once it brewed, he leaned on the counter, cradling the cup in his hands, replaying every wondrous, delicious moment of the previous evening from the time Win saidI love you.
He wouldn’t mind moving, he decided, busying himself with the pan. The house would be easy to sell, and his parents had already said they weren’t planning on returning to New York.
The bacon and pancakes were sizzling in the pan by the time Win joined him downstairs. Strong arms slid around his waist, and warm lips kissed his neck.
“I couldn’t wait upstairs any longer. Bet this tastes even better than it looks.”
Slightly breathless, he tipped his neck to give Win an easier path and flipped the pancakes. “I’m warming the syrup, and I added some chocolate chips to the batter.”
A smile imprinted against his neck. “It sounds good, but I wasn’t talking about the food.”
Sparks flew down his spine, and he moved the skillet with the now cooked pancakes off the fire. “How hungry are you?”
“Depends for what,” Win growled in his ear, sliding a hand under the waistband of his sweats to cup his ass. His dick throbbed, and he spread his legs wider.
“Anything you want.”
“What’s going on here?”
At the sound of his mother’s voice, Elliot jumped and dropped the spatula, while Win stepped aside, still facing the counter to hide his raging erection.
“Mom. What the hell? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming instead of barging in here?”
“Barging into my own home?” She sniffed and glanced around. “At least you’ve kept it clean.”
“It’s my house now. I bought it from you, and I have the mortgage payments to prove it.” What the hell was going on? “Where’s Dad? Is he here too?”
“That’s only a technicality.” She wheeled in her suitcase and stood it up next to her. “I left him home. You know he couldn’t make the trip. We have a neighbor who promised to help him with shopping and cleaning.”
“Shopping? Cleaning? How long are you planning on staying?”
His mother moved to the counter, took a cup, and poured herself some coffee. “I don’t know yet. It seems there’s a lot going on here I don’t know about. You haven’t bothered to fill me in on things, I see.” Her curious gaze swept over Win, who’d recovered and now stood by his side.
“Well, uh, yeah. This is Winston Rogers. He’s my boyfriend.”
“Good morning, Mrs. Hansen. Nice to meet you.” He walked across the kitchen to shake her hand, which she reluctantly gave him.
“Hello.”
That was all she said, and he could see Win taking it all in with his measured, assessing look—which Elliot imagined he used with great success on suspects when they were being questioned.
