“Two men having a good night together.” Even as I said it, the words tasted like a lie, a wash over a truth that was very different and far less casual.
“Is that all it’s going to be?” he asked.
Yes.
No.
“Until we’ve talked about it being anything different, yes,” I said.
“Let’s talk about it then.”
Jesus, he was unlike anyone else I’d ever met. So sure and nervous simultaneously, so unafraid of taking the things he wanted, even if he didn’t understand them entirely. And I knew, without a doubt, he didn’t understand this…at all. There was also no way for us to havethatconversation without having a very serious conversation about me—a conversation I hadn’t needed to bring up in a very long time because things had never gotten to the point where it was necessary.
“Eat the bagel, Smith,” I said gently, not wanting to hurt him while also desperately clinging to the threads binding my own sense of self-preservation together. “Drink the tea, then let’s get you dressed. I have interviews today and dinner with Damon tonight, and if you still want to have that conversation with me when the afterglow of last night has worn off, you know where to find me.”
CHAPTER 15
SMITH
The afterglow of my night with Riggs had worn off by Tuesday. All day Sunday and Monday, I rode the high of our encounter, allowing myself to really think about the things we’d done together and the way they made me feel. From the bathroom at the club to his bed, his bathtub, there wasn’t a single waking second when I wasn’t thinking about him. It was probably unhealthy and the Waterman restoration downtown was probably going to suffer for it because even at work I couldn’t stop thinking about Riggs.
After work, I gave up trying to win the battle. I called Lincoln on my way home from work, hoping he wasn’t too busy with Hunter to answer. Thankfully, he picked up on the fourth ring, sounding a little winded.
“Hey!” he greeted, breath puffing into my ear.
“Did I interrupt?”
“Not what you’re thinking,” he said. “Your brother is at work. I was just wrapping up a video.”
My cheeks heated with the understanding of what that meant.
“I hope you didn’t rush through an orgasm just to answer my call,” I said.
“I was coming when it rang.” Lincoln chuckled. “You’re good. What’s up?”
“Well, first, I have to be honest. This is new to me.”
In the background of the call, water turned on, and I imagined Lincoln was washing his hands.
“Talking on the phone?” he teased.
“Asking for help.”
“Are you okay?” The playfulness was gone from his tone, nothing but concern in his voice now.
“I’m fine,” I said quickly. “I just mean that before if I needed to talk about something, I would call Marshall.”
“But calling Marshall became the problem?”
I didn’t want to ruin my thoughts of Riggs with thoughts of my oldest brother and the unhealthy way I idolized him. “I can’t talk to Marshall about this,” I admitted.
There was a silence, and then, “Hunter is working late. Do you want to come over? We can get take-out.”
“I’d like that,” I told him. “And I’d like to check in on Feeny.”
“He is very much alive!”
I smiled, already feeling better. “I’ll be there in twenty?”
