Page 52 of Spiced!

I asked questions back.

At some point, I looked up and realized two hours had passed. Neither of us had noticed.

When the plates were empty, I stood and began gathering them. He said, “You don’t have to,” and I said, “I know,” and took them to the sink anyway, because that was simply what you did.

He followed with the glasses, turned on the water, and started rinsing. I leaned against the counter next to him and watched for a moment, then reached out and took freshly rinsed plates from him and set them into the dishwasher. I couldn’t help but enjoy the ordinary domesticity of it all, this man washing two plates and two glasses in his small kitchen on a Sunday afternoon with the balcony door open and the Tampa light coming through. Something about it settled deep inside me in a way that was comfortable and old and new, all at the same time.

I put the pastry box on the shelf.

Then I folded the dish towel.

Then I looked at the back of his neck, and I didn’t make a decision about what I did next so much as I simply did it. I stepped behind him, slowly pressed my chest to his back, giving him every opportunity to step away. When he didn’t, I put one hand on his hip, lowered my head, and pressed my lips right below his ear.

He went very still.

It didn’t feel tense, just still.

I didn’t dare move.

The warm kitchen surrounded us, the sound of the faucet still running.

Mofongo was doing something in the living room that involved his nails on the hardwood.

My lips remained against Brendan’s neck, just resting there, not pressing, just present.

His hands had stopped moving in the water.

I could feel his breathing shift.

“Adrian.”

“Yeah,” I said, my breath drifting across his skin.

“What—” He stopped, then tried again. “What are you doing?”

Chapter 13

Brendan

Adrian’s breath was hot against my neck.

I could feel the tiny hairs standing on end, teased and curious at this new sensation.

My mind tried to catch up to what the rest of my body already knew.

“What are you doing?” I choked out.

Adrian simply kissed my neck again.

And again.

His back pressed more firmly against mine, pinning me against the counter.

It was only then that I noticed my cock, smushed against the granite, was pulsing.

Only then did I feel Adrian’s cock, already full and stiff, caressing my ass through two layers of shorts.

Adrian’s hands rose from my hips, gliding up my stomach until they stilled on my chest. Strong fingers began massaging my pecs, gently at first, growing firmer with each kiss.