“By eleven months,” Dash said, sashaying closer with a wink and a twist. “If we weren’t older…” The beat dropped to a thumping anthem making Dash have to climb my body to say what he wanted me to hear. I didn’t give a single inch of height to help him reach my ear. “We wouldn’t be celebrating our nineteenth anniversary if we weren’t old!”
Then, in a daring move, his tongue darted straight into my ear, swirling there until reaching the outer edge. His tongue lapped around the shell. He reared maybe an inch away, puffing a teasing breath over the skin he’d just made wet.
“I want another hundred more years.” He caressed my cheek with his palm, tilting me so he better captured my lips, kissing me roughly. Instantly, tongue and teeth battled for domination.
As suddenly as he stole the kiss, he edged back, our gazes colliding. Those mesmerizing blue depths held me captive, waiting for whatever he wanted to reveal. “You ready to go to our room?”
Always. But that thought stayed locked in my head. Instead, I nodded and kept him firmly in my hold. I gathered our clothes, tossing them one right after another toward Dash. He scrambled to keep each article from hitting the floor. I extended my hand above my head in hopes of gaining our waiter’s attention. Dash had other plans, clasping my arm and darting stealthily through the maze of dancers, ending at the bar.
He paid, of course. I never did, although we shared accounts. Our walkout was just like any other… Dash strutted ahead of me, pulling me along like his loyal sidekick. But this time, Dash didn’t hold all my attention. The scenery was seriously handsome men. I’d never been around this many gay men in my life. I might not ever think about life in the same way again.
Once we made it to the hotel’s hallway, the soft, bright lighting was blinding. “What did it cost?” I asked. The handhold we shared swapped hands when Dash turned to face me, walking backward now.
“Guess?”
“Two hundred and fifty dollars,” I said, exaggerating my answer.
Dash slowed his roll and cocked a brow. “Four hundred and seventy-five dollars.”
I rooted in my spot. Dinner was charged to the room. That alone was a few hundred dollars. “Six hundred dollars for the drinks we had at the club?”
“Yeah,” Dash grunted, finding something funny. He tugged at my hand to get me moving again. I reluctantly did.
Damn, that dumb club looked a lot less appealing now. Membership was out of the question if a single night of drinks cost that much.
“So this weekend’s costin’ us a couple of thousand dollars?”
Dash let out a hearty laugh. I didn’t find the joke.
“I’ve got my work cut out for me next year. Topping this anniversary won’t be easy,” he said, and I couldn’t help the unguardedtskat the very idea. First, we weren’t having additional anniversary celebrations because I just spent all the money from now until forever. Second, everything Dash did was over-the-top. Him trying to beat this one meant we’d have reservations on the first flights to the moon and back. As a family, we took family vacations all over the country. This year, the girls’ birthday party was on a seven-day Disney cruise with our entire family. That was scheduled a mere four days after we returned from this anniversary weekend. Dash promised me the cruise was my mom’s idea, and she was paying, but I didn’t believe that lie. He’d never let someone else pay for us, he envisioned it as his job.
Dash created our epic family gathering and parties, not for bragging rights or to constantly outdo himself, he genuinely wanted to create lasting memories while building a solid loving base for our family. He was good at it even if I did have to bring my lunch everyday… I was dumb. Such a cheap way to save a little bit of money.
“You’ll crack that code, I’m sure,” I said, dragging my feet while Dash practically pulled me along. His ass was still a thing of beauty. The extra weight he’d gained—nothing crazy, a few extra pounds here and there—only made the way he filled out his clothes better. His ass was a double gripper, the perfect bubble butt.
At the elevator doors, he pressed the button, and said, “Can we go up—” He turned to me, dislodging my stare, drawing me out of my daze.
“What’d you say?”
“Were you just checking out my backside?” Dash teased, flipping around for me to look again. And I did. Watching him might be my favorite pastime.
“That baby blazer you wore lets me see both the front and back. A bold strategy since I’m a sure thing.” I shrugged because it was the truth.
“You’re making this trip to the room harder than it has to be, Casanova,” Dash said, walking into me, tilting his face up for a smooch. “I wanted to spend time with you in the room, talking, just being together while alone and uninterrupted.” He caressed my cheek, his thumb skimming my lower lip until the ding of the elevator startled him, sending his thumb directly into my eye.
I shoved him into the open car, not hard but enough, rubbing my inverted eyelashes from underneath the lid. Whatever about quiet time. My guy drank too much and was feeling the high. We only had so long before he crashed, passing smooth out.
4: The Celebration
Dash/Beau
Dash
“Hmm. Yeah, it’s an intriguing development. File a motion for continuance on Monday. Handle it on your own. I’ll be back Tuesday morning. Let’s meet with the client then. Have Stone rearrange my schedule accordingly. It’ll substantially increase the bottom line. Do a preliminary cost analysis. Have it to me Monday evening,” I said to the newest member of my team, Mason Taylor, a highly driven third-year attorney who actively sought me out for employment. My cell phone was stuck to my ear, a full bottle of wine in my other hand. I hustled naked from the living room back to the bedroom where Beau was waiting.
“Should…wait. Changing directions. Is the client required to attend court with me on Monday? Will his presence be an advantage to his case?” Mason asked.
“No,” I said with a shiver. “I have to go. Send me the cost analysis. I need to be prepared for Tuesday.” In a fluid move that I’d mastered years ago, I swiped my thumb absently across the screen to end the call as I expertly dove under the edge of the blanket Beau held up for me. Not a drop of wine was spilled. Clearly not the first time I’d made such a maneuver.
