“Led Zeppelin,” I said.
“My mom’s favorite band. She used to play them while she cooked dinner. Dad hated it. Said it was devil music, but she didn’t care.” His voice softened. “She died when I was seventeen. Cancer. Fast and brutal.”
“Cole.” I pressed my hand over the tattoo. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too.” He covered my hand with his. “Music was our thing. She’s the reason I kept writing even when Dad told me to quit, because she would’ve wanted me to.”
We lay in silence for a moment, our breathing synced.
“We’re getting deep for a morning after,” I commented.
“Is that okay?”
“Yeah. It’s good.”
He smiled, kissed me again. “Shower with me?”
“I don’t think my water heater can handle two people.”
“Then we’ll be fast.”
We were not fast.
I arrived at the rescue twenty-five minutes late, my hair still damp, wearing yesterday’s clothes, and sporting what could only be described as a face that had been thoroughly kissed.
Eli took one look at me and slow-clapped.
“Shut up,” I quipped.
“I haven’t said anything.”
“You’re thinking it very loudly.”
“I’m thinking that you look like you got railed into next week, and I’m incredibly proud of you.”
“ELI.”
“What? I’m supportive!” He followed me into my office. “So? How was it? Details. Now.”
“I’m not discussing my sex life with you.”
“You absolutely are. That’s the price of friendship. I listened to you cry over your ex for six months. You owe me good sex stories.”
I collapsed into my desk chair. “It was good.”
“Good like ‘pleasant’ or good like ‘I’ve seen God’?”
Heat flooded my face. “The second one.”
“YES!” Eli pumped his fist. “I knew it. That man has big dick energy. I could tell.”
“You’re a menace.”
“I’m invested in your happiness.” He perched on my desk. “When are you seeing him again?”
“Tonight. After his show.”
“You’re going to the show this time, right?”
