My brain immediately conjured thoughts of Cooper on his knees in the shower two hours ago—water sluicing over his broad shoulders and down his back. His eyes had been dark with desire as he’d glanced at me with his lips wrapped around my cock. I’d been on the receiving end of plenty of blowjobs in the past, and I recognized that “look.” I loved that look. It was calculated sensuality…a sly exchange between two lovers who knew what they wanted.
Why was it different with Cooper?
Why did that look mean something more?
Don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t any kind of romantic bullshit. It was more like primal synchronicity. Cooper might have been on his knees, but he was in control…because it was what we both wanted. It was as if we were playing a game and the rules were convoluted and upside down, and yet so clear to us.
He’d raked his fingernails on my upper thighs, pumped my shaft, his tongue teasing my tip, and uttered a simple command, “Come.”
I’d exploded, painting his lips and cheeks. He’d stood quickly and kissed me, wild and passionate. And we couldn’t seem to stop kissing as we’d washed and dried and stumbled into the bedroom. Then I’d been the one on my knees, Cooper’s tongue and fingers in my ass, and finally his cock. He’d fucked me hard and a little mercilessly, thrusting his hips over and over while I’d grasped on to the sheets, burying my face in a pillow to muffle the sound of my cries when my second orgasm ripped through me.
I’d been thoroughly and completely wrecked, gasping for breath as if I’d run a double marathon. Cooper had just grinned like a wolf, smacked my ass, and somehow coaxed me into the bathroom to take another shower.
He’d gotten dressed faster and said he was going downstairs to make coffee and start breakfast. I’d been too dazed to reply, and it hadn’t occurred to me that he might be up to something until I’d spotted the Happy Birthday banner hanging from the fireplace mantel.
“Wh-what’s this?”
Cooper had handed me a mug and pressed his lips to mine. “Happy Birthday, Silas.”
My fucking birthday.
He’d remembered. Of course he had. Cooper remembered shit like that, and no doubt his kids would too. And they were coming home today, and Christ, I couldn’t wait to see them. I meant that.
I really liked this rhythm we’d established. Cooper and I on one week, fucking like bunnies and doing ordinary things like making dinner, watching TV, and solving world problems over a glass of wine or two. And the next week, I was the friendly neighbor. The guy who tossed a football with his kids and sometimes shared a meal or played a game or two.
Today had marked the end of a Silas and Cooper week and the beginning of a week of me playing Silas, the cool neighbor. That fact that it fell on my thirty-seventh birthday shouldn’t have mattered. It didn’t. Birthdays hadn’t thrilled me in a long while.
The last time I’d celebrated with intention had been a drunk fest in Cabo on my thirtieth. The memories were foggy at best, but according to Vally, I’d been a hot mess, so it was just as well. After that, I’d been with Alli…or alone. She’d been away on assignment, or we hadn’t been getting along or…we were divorced and I’d been too depressed to acknowledge another passing year.
But now…
“Yo, Si! Are you there?”
“Yeah…” I squinted at the glittering water, kicking dirt off my sneaker as I stood. “I’m here. Don’t worry about me. Everything is fine.”
Ger sighed wearily. “Okay, okay. Call me if that changes.”
“Sure thing. Later, Ger.”
“Later. Oh, hey—happy birthday, man.”
I smiled. “Thanks.”
I finished my run at a leisurely pace, cleaned up, and walked into town. I wasn’t particularly hungry and I definitely didn’t need more caffeine, but I didn’t feel like sitting around the house. I checked out the coffee-tude of the day on the chalkboard easel outside Rise and Grind— “Sip your brew, feel brand-new,” waved to Beau and Micah and a couple of other plaid-clad loggers, and bumped into Cooper’s Aunt Rhona and Uncle Harry at Dexter’s Donuts, decked out in peace T-shirts and Birkenstocks.
“Well, looky, Harry! It’s the birthday boy!”
“I—hey, how’d you know it was my birthday?” I asked, stepping behind them in line.
A woman whose name I didn’t know, but whose kid was possibly on my flag football roster, spun on her heels. “It’s your birthday?”
Rhona tapped the pink box Dex slid across the counter to her. “Our sweet Ivy told us all about it. Felicitations to you, dear.”
“Uh…”
“Oh, we can do better than that, Rhon,” Harry declared, clearing his throat and belting out the birthday classic in a surprisingly rich baritone voice.
Rhona raised her arms like a philharmonic conductor, inviting the entire shop to sing along. My cheeks heated as two bakers popped in from the kitchen and joined in with Dexter, Harry, Rhona, and half a dozen strangers.
