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“Yes. Yes, I’ll ask my mom to come. I don’t know how you do this, how you get me to want to break my own rules.”
I grinned against his skin. “It’s a talent, baby. Do you really want to? I don’t want you to do something you don’t want to do.”
“If you’re trying to get me to tell you how much I’m dying to spend more time with you, it’s not gonna happen.”
I nibbled at the upper curve of his ass cheek. “But it’s true. You’re looking forward to it. I bet you’re counting down the days on the calendar—how many until you share a delicious meal with your family and the sexiest man alive?”
“Wait, when did you plan to introduce me to him?”
I laughed again, burying my face in his cloth-covered butt. God, he was so much fun.
“I can’t believe you never told me you know Idris Elba.”
“Brat.” I bit him. He groaned sexily, in a way I was familiar with, one that said he liked what I was doing and wanted to get off. “You’re really going to ask her?”
“Yes.”
“You want me to eat your ass now to celebrate?”
“Obviously.”
Chuckles spilled from both our lips as I sat up and tugged at his underwear. I hoped he was as happy about this as I was, that he really wanted to do it—the dinner, not the ass eating. That much I knew he craved.
I’d seen the progression in him over the weeks and months. Zander was starting to trust me more and more, and I valued and respected that with everything I had.
When he was naked, I lay between his spread thighs…parted him, took in the sight. “My favorite hole ever. So pretty and pink…so tight.” I circled his rim with my finger.
“He wants to say hello to your tongue.”
“He’s a needy little thing, isn’t he?” I blew on him.
“Eat me! So I can get back to work.”
“Oh, did you remember to have dinner tonight?”
“Harrison!” he groaned.
God, I loved him. I really fucking did. “Fine. Dessert first, meal later.”
He pushed up some, pressing his ass to my face. I nibbled at his cheeks again, then did as I promised—licking him, fingering him, pushing my tongue in deep until he cried out and came all over the mattress.
I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face all night.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Zander
I was nervous as shit.
I couldn’t believe I’d agreed to ask Mom about coming to Atlanta for a holiday that both Harrison and I were iffy on, given the history, but we both used it as a reason to spend time with family.
I told myself that was why I did this. That I wanted Mom and Bug to get a feel of my life in Atlanta.
A quiet voice inside me, though, one I tried to bind, bury, and silence, kept whispering that them coming to Atlanta wasn’t the only reason or the main reason I’d said yes.
I wanted Mom to meet Harrison. And Ross too, of course. I wanted to feel like part of a real family, a bigger family. I wanted Mom and Molly out of our hometown, away from the gossip and memories, and for them to see this place where I hoped they would one day come and live with me. Not in Harrison’s house—I would never live there—but in the city.
I was stalling, wasn’t I?
It had only been a day since I’d told Harrison I would ask. I just wanted to do it, to get it over with so we could make plans. The wording of my thoughts felt off, though, as if this wasn’t something I wanted, but it was, and that freaked me the fuck out.
Hence, me sitting on the futon in Ross’s condo after getting off work, overthinking this whole thing instead of just calling Mom.
I picked up my cell phone and hit her name in my favorites.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite son,” Mom answered.
“I’m your only son.”
“You’re still my favorite. How are you?”
“Good.” And I was. I was better than I’d ever been. It felt like my life was finally coming together. That there wasn’t as much pressure, everything wasn’t as hard, and God, I wanted to hold on to that.
“That’s what I want to hear,” she replied. There was some rustling on the line, and I could tell she’d covered the phone and whispered something about going outside. “What’s new? How’s life? And the car guy?”
“He’s not the car guy, Mom. He’s…” How did I even put him into words? I wasn’t sure it was possible. Harrison felt bigger than that. He felt…well, I didn’t want to focus on what he felt like. “He’s Harrison. My friend.”
“Your friend whom you spend a lot of time with.”
Great. It was clear she’d been forming her own conclusions about me and him, and now I was going to ask her to come to Atlanta, to stay at his house and spend time with us?
