“Where you got the idea.” I need to see what I’m working with. And whether we restore the bathroom back to its original glory or… continue with this crazy plan and do whatever Lake wants to do. I have a terrible feeling I already know which direction we’re going in, regardless.
“Oh.” He glances around, moves some pieces of wood and a hammer—Christ, where did he even find that?—and then slides his phone out from behind the sink. It has a light layer of white dust. “Here!”
The pictures are nicer than I’d braced myself for. Elegant without being gaudy. If it had been bright yellow with ducks and a singing dinosaur, I’d just go with it. This is more pleasant and won’t mean going against my better judgement. There’s a simplicity to it that doesn’t just involve a boring black-and-white colour scheme. A standing tub and a long, floating black cupboard with two sinks in the vanity. The mirror spans both, and I can see two clips in the middle that tells me it opens too. Our bathroom’s a completely different size, so it won’t work at all the way it looks. We’ll have to sit down and map it out.
“You don’t think we should have talked about this first?”
“I wanted to surprise you.”
Sweet and terrifying all at the same time. “In half an hour?”
“Maybe I didn’t think it through?”
Maybe. Understatement of the year. “Were there instructions for it and a list of materials?” I ask, handing his phone back. I’m hoping for something that suggests there’s some kind of plan here. Winging a bathroom renovation isn’t a good idea.
“Uh… no? I mean, I don’t think so. I didn’t get that far. Let me check.” The tip of his tongue peeks out between his lips as he scrolls, staring intently at the screen. It’s enough of a vision todistract me from my questioning. It’s been too long since I tasted those lips.
“It doesn’t look like it,” Lake says, giving me a lopsided grin.
Of course. Lake saw the picture and instantly started pulling up our bathroom. That tracks, unfortunately. At least the shower is intact, and the toilet is separate. Hopefully, he didn’t start there.
“I’m hungry.” He takes my hand when I offer it, and in seconds, he’s on his feet and in my arms. “Why don’t we eat and then talk about it?”
His gaze sticks to my lips, and he doesn’t answer for a few seconds. “Sure,” he says absently. “I think it’s in the oven.” He tilts his head, silently seeking.
“You think?” I ask, amusement lacing my tone. His hands fist my shirt when I lean down, just a little. Still out of reach, but closer now.
“Pretty sure. To keep warm. I couldn’t remember if you said what time you’d be home.”
Our lips brush, and his sharp inhale goes straight to my dick. “Is that why you thought you’d have time to renovate an entire bathroom before I got home?”
His eyes flutter closed. “Uh. I have the right to remain silent.” He tries to pull me down to complete the kiss, but I don’t let him.
“Do you?” He’s never once exercised that right.
He tilts his head and lifts up on his toes, lips grazing the corner of my mouth. Close; not close enough. “There are other things I can do with my mouth that I think you’ll like better.”
“Yeah?” I’m not a strong-enough man to keep resisting this kind of temptation. The second his mouth presses to mine properly, I cup his nape and angle his head with my thumb against his jaw. He moans and gives me exactly what I want, going pliant in my arms even as he twines his around my shoulders and lifts himself up. It forces me to take hold of histhighs and haul him up so that he can hook his legs over my hips. Not that I’m complaining about the new position.
Staggering backwards and out of the danger zone, I push him against the wall beside the bathroom door. I’d rather not slip and kill us both, not when my dick is trying to burst out of my pants.
“Are we having sex?” Lake asks, gasping and arching his throat. It gives me more room to run my lips across it, kissing all the way up to his jaw. “Or eating? Sexy eating. Food and sex. That’s a thing, right? You taste like food.” The last word turns into more of a moan when I roll my hips against him.
I can’t taste like anything. I haven’t eaten in hours. Maybe spearmint from the breath mints I keep in the car.
I make sure he’s securely sandwiched between my thighs and the wall before I reach between us and tug at the button and zipper of his jeans. Too bad he’s not in his camo anymore; I love wrecking him while he’s still in full uniform. I’ve even convinced him to wear his dog tags a few times. They spent most of the time in his mouth, his screams muffled.
“You’re a really good burger. Or the last crunchy chip.” Lake’s breath hitches when my hand finally makes contact with his hard cock. This is what I’ve been thinking about all day, and I need to get my lips around it. “Ataco,” Lake whispers conspiratorially. “You’re a taco.”
“Only good for Tuesdays?” I’m only half listening, my mind on more important things. Like pushing Lake’s shirt up so that I can get to his chest. Is he wearing—yes.Perfect. Hooking the hem of the shirt in Lake’s necklace keeps it in place so I can kiss across Lake’s chest and flick his nipple with my tongue.
Lake moans and buries his fingers in my hair, twisting the strands to an almost painful degree. “Crunchy on the outside,” he says huskily. “Gooey in the middle, and messy. And you’re spicy. And if I spill the insides, I can make a second one with them.”
That one makes me pause. What the hell is he talking about? Never mind. I don’t care enough to ask; I have better things to do. In one swift move, I lower him to his feet and get to my knees. It puts me at the perfect height to press my forehead against his stomach. His arms twine further around my head, keeping me in place.
“Can we have tacos on Tuesday?”
“Sure.” I have no idea what he just asked. It doesn’t matter; whatever he wants, he can have it. Pulling his jeans and briefs down to the floor, Lake barely kicks them away before I get my mouth on his dick. His heaviness glides across my tongue, his musky scent invading. A shudder runs through me, and my own cock throbs in my pants, demanding attention. Not yet. I’m not finished here.
