"Reporters. Photographers. They're everywhere during these press tours. I can't risk them getting pictures of us. Not yet. I need to talk to the girls about us first."
My chest tightens at the thought of explaining this new chapter to his daughters, of how they might react to their father being in love with another man.
"Couldn't go anyway."
"Why not?"
"My classes are booked solid for the next two months. I've got responsibilities."
"Right. Of course."
Vince finishes assembling the sandwiches, their layers of tomato and lettuce glistening under the kitchen light. I pour the coffee, the steam rising like a ghost between us. Our lingering glances across the kitchen feel electric, every look sending my heart into a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
We sit at the table, quietly eating, the only sounds the scrape of knives against plates and the soft crinkle of wax paper.
We're only a couple of bites in when we both drop our sandwiches at the same time, the clatter of plates echoing as we practically lunge across the table at each other.
In the chaos, I trip over my chair, Vince spills his coffee, and we grab each other like we'll die if we don't.
His hands cup my face, thumbs stroking my jawline as his tongue shoves into my mouth, demanding and eager. I fumble to pull off his hoodie, the fabric catching on his elbows before finally coming free. We break apart just long enough to shed ourtops, the cool air hitting our skin before his mouth is on mine again, his lips insistent, his teeth grazing my bottom lip with just enough pressure to make me gasp.
My hands roam over his solid chest, stomach, and back, memorizing every inch of him through the thin fabric of his shirt. He feels so good, so real, and I can't get enough. The muscles in his back tense under my touch, a silent testament to the desire simmering between us.
Vince drags me out of the kitchen, tripping over furniture as he goes. I can't stop laughing, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep inside me, which only makes him more determined, his grip on my hand tightening as he pulls me along.
We finally make it to his bedroom, the door swinging shut behind us with a soft click. He tears off my clothes like he's racing against the clock, tossing my shoes, socks, and shorts across the room with careless abandon. Then he pushes me onto the bed and strips down just as quickly, his movements urgent, his eyes never leaving mine.
Crawling on top of me, he whispers, his breath hot against my ear, "Andy, full disclosure, you’re the first man I’ve been with."
I laugh, pulling him into a kiss. "You can't do anything wrong, Vince."
I nibble his bottom lip before crawling out from under him to grab the supplies I'd stashed in my hoodie.
His smile stretches from ear to ear, his face as flushed as mine feels. I can't remember a moment when Vince has looked more beautiful than he does right now... naked, content, slightly insecure but brimming with excitement. He's all man, with his legs sprawled out, a defined arm resting behind his head, and a throbbing hard-on pressed against his abs, all for me.
"Come here," he directs, holding out his hand.
I smile, probably still red in the face but happy to follow his lead.
I climb back onto the bed, crawling over him and trailing kisses from his feet to his neck, making sure to teasingly graze my lips on his inner thigh on the way up. When I reach his lips, I press our hips together, relishing the heat between us.
Running my fingers through his dark hair, I swallow his moans as he kisses me hungrily. I grind my hips against his, slowly at first, building momentum. His fingers dig into mythighs, his grip spurring me on. I move faster, grinding against him while his legs wrap tightly around me, pulling me closer. The friction between us sends electric currents through my veins, each movement building a delicious tension that coils low in my belly. The scent of himfills my senses, making my head swim with desire. His skin is hot beneath my touch, muscles tensing and relaxing as I explore every inch of him with my hands and mouth.
Time melts away as I lose myself in the rhythm of our bodies, his heat throbbing against me and his mouth devouring mine. Every kiss is more urgent than the last, every touch more desperate, as if we're trying to consume each other completely.
The world outside his bedroom ceases to exist—there's only the sound of our ragged breathing, the creak of the bed beneath us, the frantic pounding of our hearts in sync. I can feel his pulse hammering against my lips as I nip at his neck, leaving marks that will tomorrow remind us of this moment, of this surrender.
"Andy," he moans, breathless against my lips. The sound is raw, desperate, stripped of all pretense, and it sends another jolt straight through me. His voice, usually so measured and controlled, has dissolved into something primal, something that speaks directly to the core of me.
The way he's unraveling beneath me is intoxicating.
Vince is a giver; I've seen it in so many parts of his life—with his daughters, with his friends, even with strangers. But this time, I want to be the one giving to him, to pour everything I have into him until he can't take anymore. I want to be the one who makes him lose control, who breaks down those carefully constructed walls he keeps around himself.
"Andy. Stop," he says, his deep voice trembling, igniting something primal inside me. "I'm not going to last much longer—" His words come out in a rush, each syllable laced with barely restrained desire. His hands, which had been gripping mythighs, now slide up to my waist, pulling me even closer as if trying to merge our bodies into one.
I still, drawing a groan of protest from him, but I have plans to take this further.
Carefully, Iuse the lube and condom taken from my hoodie to get us ready. Then Istraddle him, sliding down slowlyonto his lengthas I clasp his hands and pin them to the mattress on either side of his head.
