The table dissolves into laughter.
Cricket raises her hand. “Can somebody send one of those relentless athletes my way?”
I point at her. “Nope.”
Cricket flips her hair. “Try and stop me.”
More laughter.
“They’re actually passing through before heading up to Seattle,” Anthony adds. “Jason got traded.”
I open my mouth to respond, but Deacon stands, huffs out some kind of primal noise, and stalks off. I turn my head and he’s barreling straight toward Jason.
Hm. Chance may be right that Deacon doesn’t have sex, but I’m willing to bet hewantsto. There waswantin that big man’s eyes. Trust me, I know the look.
Dinner arrives shortly after. The kids wanted to make a surf and turf menu with halibut cooked in parchment with butter, white wine, and lemon, filets, potato pavé, and roasted garlic Brussels sprouts. Watching everyone enjoy the menu we'd planned makes my heart swell.
While we’re eating, Anthony leans toward Spence. “I think you should work from home the rest of the week.” He makes air quotes around “work from home”. “We'll call if we need you.” Then he winks.
Spence groans. “No. I can come in.”
Anthony points his fork at him. “I wasn't asking.”
“Thank you,” Spence says, genuinely.
Anthony nods, then continues, “However, Chance and I are hosting family dinner Sunday at ours.” He points between us. “We expect both of you there. Bring Tyler and your sisters.”
Something catches in my chest. Family dinner. I love when we do those. Knowing that Spence will get to be a part our nutty little “framily” hits me right in the feels.
I clear my throat. “Just let me know what I can bring.”
The rest of the evening flies by. Fashion. Music. Laughter. More than three hundred thousand dollars raised for the center. Tyler and his collection receive a standing ovation. As he should. His black-and-silver designs own the room. Towering shoes. Wild headpieces. Sharp tailoring. Every model commands the runway while classic ‘90s catwalk tracks like Vogue, Too Funky, and of course, Free Your Mind, blast through the ballroom. The crowd is completely captivated.
But watching Tyler take it all in, peeking out from stage right, might be my favorite part of the night. By the time the final applause dies down, everyone is glowing. Especially him.
After dinner, which Spence barely ate, and the show, Spence leans over and whispers, “I've had to stare at your fucking nipples in that mesh top all night long. If you don't take me home right now, we're going to have a problem.”
I jump up from my chair, grab the chef coat and hat, and say, “Welp, thanks for coming everyone. We have to leave.” Then I grab Spence by the hand and haul him away from the table and through the crowd toward the exit with one thought on repeat in my brain…
This feels right.
Forty-Nine
I Knew I Loved You
Spence
We tumble through the front door of the condo, a tangle of limbs and desperation. Our mouths are fused together, tongues clashing, teeth nipping. We've been kissing like this since we left the fundraiser—on the street waiting for the car, in the backseat of my limo, in the elevator, and pinned against the wall in the hallway outside my door. I walk us backward toward the bedroom, shedding my tux jacket, tie, and unbuttoning my shirt. I push Ryan on the bed, his eyes dark with lust. His leg has healed nicely, so I get to be a little more rough with him.
I point at him, my voice steady despite the storm inside me. “Strip down to nothing but that top. I'm going to take a shower.” He scrambles to unbutton his pants, and I add, “And get the lube out. I don't want to have to fish it out later.”
In the master bath, I strip down and step into the shower, letting the hot water cascade over me. After a couple minutes, I hear Ryan's needy whines from the bedroom, “Spennnnce,” and I chuckle, but my nerves are a live wire. I'm about to give Ryan something I've never given anyone—my ultimate trust. I take my time, washing thoroughly, preparing myself for what's to come.
When I'm ready, I dry off quickly. Then I waltz into the bedroom, my hard cock bobbing with each step, drops of water still drying on my chest. Ryan's eyes widen, and he licks his bottom lip. “Fuck, Spence. Look at you. A literal wet dream.”
I tap his feet. “Scoot over.” He shimmies to one side, and I climb onto the bed, crawling up to him. I grab his chin and kiss him—deep and dirty.
Then I drop onto my belly. My heart's hammering so hard I can feel it in my throat. I've never done this before, never let anyone have me like this, but with Ryan it feels different. Safe. I turn my head to see him with his eyes fixed on my ass, and a hunger in his eyes that makes my stomach flip. I rub a knuckle across his abs, arch my back, and say, “What are you waiting for? Get down there and start eating.”
