“They’re engaged and planning their wedding right now; they aren’t married yet.”
Damn. Well, there goes that plan. Unless— “That means they’ll have hired one, though, in preparation. We could find out who they got?” Easier than bringing some random into our home. At least they could sort of be vouched for? We’d run some background checks on them too.
“We can ask Jericho tomorrow.”
Probably easier than hacking into phones and finding the information ourselves. Not as much fun, but speed is the priority here. “We need to get rings.” That one’s important. “Can I get ‘property of Spencer’ put on yours?”
“What about yours?”
“I think it would look weird if I had ‘property of Spencer’ on mine.”
Kendrick tugs a strand of my hair and stares at me with a look until I break.
“If I didn’t think you’d kill me, I’d have ‘property of Kendrick’ tattooed on my forehead,” I admit. It’s pretty much written on my chest—my itchy-as-fuck chest—so putting it elsewhere isn’t much more of a stretch. Less able to hide it, but whatever. There are foundations for that. I’ve seen videos.
“Let’s start with the rings,” he says, annoyingly diplomatic about it.
I can work with that. I finish the pancake I’m working on and slide another one across the plate so it soaks up more chocolate. We eat in silence for a few minutes, steadily making our way through the last few.
“I thought I’d feel different.”
Kendrick pauses, fork stabbed into the last pancake. “About what?”
“I don’t know. Us. Me. You took my gay virginity.”
Kendrick clears his throat, a smile flickering on his lips. “It doesn’t really work that way.”
“I had your dick in my ass, and you were my first, so I think it definitely works that way.” I steal his piece of pancake and shove it in my mouth before he can protest. “And I thought… I don’t know.” That it would be life-changing. Instead, it’s warm, and safe, and everything it was before we slept together. He’s still my everything, and it can’t be more,because it was already everything. There’s a comfort in that.
“You thought you’d want to write about it in your diary?”
“Fuck off, Ken.”
Kendrick chuckles. “You liked it, right?”
“I’m not answering that question just on principle.”
“That’s all it needs to be.”
Carefully putting the almost empty plate down on the bed—not that I really care if it gets toppled over; that’s what washing machines are for—I lift myself up onto my knees and cradle his face. “For someone who thrives in the shadows for a living, you’re a fucking sap.”
“Only for you.”
“Just proving my point.”
His lips soften under mine, and the taste of banana pancakes and chocolate mingles between us. His hand runs up my back until he grasps my nape, holding me in place. I moan and crawl into his lap, settling against him.
“Are you still hungry?” he asks.
Trailing my lips down his throat I nip at him, tasting salty sweetness. “Yeah, a little bit.”
Without letting go of me he reaches around and grabs the plate, bringing it closer. When he feeds me a piece, our eyes never stray from each other. I can feel him hardening under me, and I hesitate, lips parting, unsure what I want to say. Now that we’ve taken that step, I don’t know what we’re supposed to do now.
“Spence?”
“I just want—can we just be like this?” Guilt stirs in my gut. How do I explain that I want him exactly the way I did before, I just… like this part better? This connection, when it’s the two of us, this is where I come alive. The want that I feel isn’t always on the same level as his.
“Is there a reason you think we can’t be?”
