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Jericho rubs his nose on Lazaro’s. "I love pink. I’ll wear it all the time around you."
Marcello awakens from his sleep. He shifts his gaze toward Jericho, and I can tell he’s melting inside.
"Sweet boy." Marcello’s timbre is terse. Strained. Raspy. "What would you do if I told you… you passed our tests?"
Jericho snickers, then rolls his eyes. "There’s no need to 'test' me. We got along today—that’s what’s important."
Lazaro nods in agreement. "I recognized the error of my ways after we shared a good hot come. 'Testing' your partners is for insecure assholes—not something I believe in anymore. Jericho shouldn’t have to pass our 'tests' any more than we should have to pass his."
I turn to Lazaro. Warmth blooms in my chest, making me nod. "You’re damn right,fratello."
Marcello leans in and drops a kiss on Jericho’s cheek. Jericho moans, turning to him, then extricates his hands from Lazaro and wraps them around Marcello’s neck.
Their limbs tangle together as Jericho turns his head to the left, catching a full stamp of Marcello’s lips.
Marcello grinds against Jericho, his chest muscles rippling, adoration in the red flush on his cheeks and temples, affection in his eyes.
Lazaro scrambles for something on his bedside table. When he finds what he’s searching for, he sets it beside Jericho.
"I bought this alongtime ago." Lazaro’s whispered words are barely audible.
Jericho moves away from Marcello. "Oh, my!"
Marcello catches my eyes. "This freaking guy."
I snort in agreement. "You can say that again."
Lazaro takes Jericho’s palm in his, then brings it toward the pink dinosaur stuffy on Jericho’s chest. "Never had the chance to gift it to a boy. Wanted to—none were special enough. None wanted it."
Jericho’s eyes prick with tears. He lifts the stuffy, then holds it tight. "Can I tell you three something?"
Affection. It swells within me, making me see my prince in a new light. He’s ready to open up about his past. Not all of it—I’m sure. There will be plenty he keeps to himself, I assume the things that he dealt with in prison.
However, the vibe that he’s going to tell us about his childhood isn’t lost on me. That’s what I want. To hear about my boy as a boy. His life. His family.
I nod. "Please."
"I played with a stuffed dino exactly like this with my brother Bentley growing up." Jericho rests his head on my chest again. "His name was Pinky—exactly this same color."
Leaning in, I cup Jericho’s cheeks and plant a kiss on his lips. I swore I wouldn’t—promised myself I’d keep this chaste, sweet, cuddly.
Iwillkeep my promise—yet Jericho’s earlier kisses with my brothers let me know that I can kiss my boy and not have it turn into sex. There’s nothing making me take my dick out after we lock lips.
Jericho nibbles my lower lip, then swipes his tongue across my gums. A deep, rumbling groan escapes me, one mingled with so much desire and heartfelt adoration for this angel that it causes me to tousle his hair.
"I’m proud of you for opening up." I swipe an eyelash from his cheek. "Tell us more."
"Bentley and I played toy soldiers in my grandparents’ attic—what I didn’t tell you is that Pinky sometimes made an appearance."
This causes Marcello’s left eyebrow to tick up. "You’re kidding."
"Nope." Jericho chuckles. "The game was called—soldiers vs. dinosaurs. The creatures would stomp, swish their tails, and knock out the armies."
"Who won?" Lazaro snickers.
Jericho glares at Lazaro. "Don't mock me."
Lazaro raises his hands in surrender. "I wouldn’t dream of it."
