Tate was dreaming.
That was the only way to explain this conversation he was having with Donovan freaking Jameson.
After what happened last weekend, Tate had expected Donovan to avoid him for the rest of his life. The guy couldn’t even look at him after the kiss they’d shared in the hallway. To say it had hurt would’ve been an understatement.
Tate honestly had intended to move on with his life. He could check the Kiss Donovan Jameson box from his bucket list and call it good. He’d hoped he wouldn’t have to tell Reilly about it because, while the kiss had been incredible, Tate hadn’t wanted to think about it ever again. If he did, he would spend hours thinking about all the other things he wished he could do with Donovan, which would get him nowhere.
And yes, that was why he’d caved to Ben’s follow-up invitation to come here tonight. He hadn’t wanted to, but it was the only way he could keep from sulking at home and thinking about what he couldn’t have.
He knew if he simply asked Reilly to stay home, she would have, but he wasn’t that selfish. He wanted her to be happy, which was the only reason he’d agreed to be steadfast and straightforward in their approach and to make this the year they finally landed the men they wanted. Telling Reilly that it was too late for him would’ve put a damper on her mood, so he’d agreed even though he couldn’t come up with a plan to make it happen.
Turned out he didn’t need a plan. Evidently, he was on Santa’s nice list this year because he was about to get everything he’d asked for—which just so happened to be six foot four inches of sin wrapped in layers of mouthwatering muscle and wearing a smirk that was most definitely naughty.
“What do you say, Tate? You think you’re up for it?”
He almost asked Donovan what he was referring to but decided against it. He didn’t care. He was up for anything this man was willing to dish out.
Tate nodded slowly, ensuring Donovan didn’t misinterpret.
Another crooked grin formed on Donovan’s sinful mouth. “Good. I need to stop by the store first.”
Tate expected Donovan to lead the way, but he surprised him, placing his big hand on his lower back and urging him across the park toward the Jameson General Store. It was closed for the night, but he figured Donovan didn’t care. He had keys to the building. And if he didn’t, Tate did since he often filled in for Reilly when she needed help.
Tate did his best to ignore the heat that seeped into his skin from Donovan’s touch and the way his cock throbbed to the point of pain. He was so fucking hard he hurt.
When they entered the store, Donovan locked the door behind them and didn’t flip on the lights. He guided Tate past the front register and down the aisle containing various personal items.
Tate was preoccupied with the hand that still lingered on his back. Otherwise, he would’ve gotten a clue before Donovan said, “Grab a box of condoms.”
Do not freak out.
They’re condoms.
They’re your friend.
It’s a good sign.
Donovan stopped in front of the condoms and waited, clearly expecting Tate to follow through.
Grab a box.
Just pick one.
Just. Pick. One!
Hoping to shut that inner voice off, Tate turned to the shelf and reached for the first box he saw.
Donovan chuckled.
Tate looked up. That damn smirk was back.
“I don’t think that size’ll work.”
“No?”Jesus God.Why the hell did I ask that?
“Would you like to measure?”
Oh, fuck.
