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“Maine,” I choked out.
“Are you in California often?”
“No. But…I…we could be. I have a friend who just moved.”
I still didn’t know why Sharp had a gun, and there was a screaming voice in the back of my head that said making plans for another kinky and dubious sex romp with people like him and Matty was a dangerous game to play. But fuck, if it hadn’t been sexy as sin.
“We could come visit,” Travis said. “After Owen is settled.”
Sharp’s phone vibrated the same set of tones again, and he threw a warning glance at Matty, the haze quickly fading.
“Give me your number,” Matty said.
Travis recited it out for him before I could, and then Matty sent me a text.
“You have mine now,” he said. “Hate to dash, but let us know next time you’re in town. Yeah?”
“Yes,” I said quickly.
The two of them all but ran out of the room, and I slumped against the back of the couch with my phone in my hand, used condom still cold and wet around my cock.
“That was hot,” Travis said.
I took a deep breath and nodded.
“Yeah,” I told him. “You were.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
TRAVIS
The beaches on the west coast were nothing like the beaches back home.
With Frankie beside me, I stretched out my legs and dug my toes into the warm sand, angling my face toward the sky and appreciating the heat from the sun.
“I can’t believe it’s still sunny in January,” I said.
It wasn’t hot, but it was still a tolerable temperature, probably the low seventies. Nowhere near worth getting in the water over, but sitting by and listening to the sounds of the waves crashing onto the shore was just as nice.
“They do have good weather here,” Frankie agreed, matching my pose.
We’d spread out a massive blanket on the sand earlier in the day, and Frankie had busied himself by feeding me cheese and fruit. We had canned wine in koozies, since drinks weren’t legal on the beach in LA. The alcohol had finally warmed its way through my blood and I sighed happily, reaching for his hand.
“Are you drunk?” he asked, clearly knowing my tells.
I was always more affectionate when I’d been drinking.
“I’m happy,” I said.
“You’re eager.”
I answered that with a thoughtful hum in the back of my throat. He wasn’t wrong, but it was more than that.
“I’m happy to be here with you,” I said, elaborating and raising his hand to my mouth so I could kiss his knuckles. “I love you. I love my life with you.”
Frankie smiled, a flush creeping from his throat to his cheeks.
“I love our life, too.”
