As we near the final couple of days of 2016, I suppose I should say a word or two to sum up the old year. It’s been a tough one in many ways. Personally, I lost my dog, a few childhood heroes (Prince, David Bowie, Florence Henderson and holy crap, George Michael too) and of course, my hopes for the first woman POTUS were dashed. On the bright side, I love my family, friends and I’m more passionate than ever about writing MM romance. Two of my books, A Kind of Romance and Better Than Safe, placed in the 2016 Rainbow Awards and A Kind of Truth came in fourth. I was beyond thrilled and yeah…I’m more inspired than ever in light of the current political climate to keep writing stories of hope and love. Something tells me the world could use more of those.

I have a new series in the works! Look for book two in Leaning Into Stories in early 2017.  Book one, Leaning Into Love, came out as a short story in the anthology, It Was Always You recently. If you missed it, don’t worry, I will rerelease it before the next book comes out (mid-Feb, fingers crossed!). And yes! Book 4 in A Kind of Stories will be coming in June 2017! Woohoo! In the meantime, I’m working on a short story for my boys, Matt and Aaron from Better Than Good called Better Than Engagement. The story takes place at about the same time as Better Than Safe. I’ve posted part one and two on my blog, but here is part three! There will be a few more installments with the last one coming out just as the new series is released.

I wish you all happiness, joy and above all, hope in the new year. Without further adieu, here are parts 1-3 of Better Than Engagement. NSFW 😉 Part 1- Better Than Engagement

My computer screen seemed brighter than normal this morning. That had to be why the words blurred and nothing made sense. Or maybe it was caffeine deficiency. I had two hours to read over the government contract before it was due back to the Department of Defense. I had to snap out of it and concentrate. There was no point in daydreaming about my warm bed or the sexy man I’d left there an hour ago. As if on cue, my cell phone vibrated on my desk.

“Hi baby. Why are you up? I thought you were sleeping ’til seven.” I swiveled my chair away from my computer and closed my eyes. Fuck, I wished I was with him.

“I can’t go back to sleep. That was amazing. I can’t stop thinking about you. You’ve never done that before, Matty. You were so…forceful. But in a good way. A sexy way.”

“Aar, stop. You’re gonna make me hard,” I whispered, glancing sideways at my open door.

The office was dark. At six thirty a.m., I was pretty much guaranteed to have the place to myself for another thirty minutes or so. No one would notice my blush or raise an eyebrow if I had squirmed in my chair to hide the bulge in my suit pants. But old habits weren’t easy to shake. Thinking about licking Aaron to oblivion before driving myself inside him that morning was one thing. Talking about it was a whole other story. And Aaron knew it.

His melodic laughter sounded like music to my ears. “Are you hard? Touch yourself. I am.”

“I’m at work, perv. I’m not jacking off at my desk,” I said with a snort.

I could picture him lying naked in the middle of our king-size bed holding his phone with one hand while the other drifted to his perfect cock. When he moaned my name I knew I got it right.

“That would be kind of naughty. I have to get up and do grown up things, like go to meetings and do fashion edits, but our bed is so warm. And even though I’m a sticky, crusty mess, I feel fabulous.”

“Sticky and crusty is fabulous?” I tried to infuse my voice with a note of levity and hopefully move on to PG-rated topics.

“It is when I think about what you did to me. I’m never washing the sheets. These are sacred sex sheets,” he declared with a sigh.

I chuckled at his worshipful tone. “Hmm. You know we can do it again.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it. Geez, I can’t decide what I liked best. It’s a tie between when you tongue fucked me ’til I couldn’t remember my name and when you spanked me and made me hang on to the headboard while you—”

“Oh fuck, Aar.” I swallowed hard and finally gave into temptation, palming my cock through my wool blend trousers. “Did you have to say “spank”?”

Aaron snickered. “Yes! It drives you crazy. My ass is sore and—”

“Mine,” I growled possessively.

“Yes. Yours.”

I shut my eyes for a half second while my lover went into delicious detail about our morning sexathon. He was right. He drove me crazy. He made me want things I never dreamed were possible. And he’d been doing it for over four years.

I don’t think anyone who knew me well when I first met Aaron could have predicted my life now. The bigger parts were easy. I was still with the prestigious DC law firm I’d interned for while I was finishing my degree. I was an associate partner specializing in contract law and any day now I expected to be offered a non-equity partnership. Professionally, I was where I’d hoped I’d be after I graduated. Personally… I was light years away.

Actually, that wasn’t true. I was exactly where I wanted to be. I was in a long-term committed relationship with a person I loved, respected and cherished. Someone so incredible and unexpected that I swear, most days I couldn’t believe my amazing luck. He was passionate, gorgeous, smart, funny and yeah… I was head over heels for the guy. That was the part that still blew a few people away. I was in love with a man. Not a woman.

Aaron Mendez was a Puerto Rican American spitfire with a wicked sense of humor and a lust for life. The fact he wanted anything to do with a boring lawyer was the crazy part. But we fit. We were the missing piece the other needed. This feeling transcended physical attraction. Sure, I was still convinced Aaron was the most beautiful person on the planet. He was small and lean with dark brown hair, hazel eyes and infectious grin that made my heart swell. But now I knew this connection was based on something more than physical attraction. He was part of me. Inside me. He made me a better man.

We were opposites in almost every conceivable way. I was tall, he was short. I liked sports. Aaron loved fashion. I tended to be cool and methodical while Aaron was a free spirit with a taste for the finer things in life. We shouldn’t work, but we did. He made me look at the stars and I reminded him to keep his feet on the ground.

“…and when you stuck your finger inside me while you were fuc—”

“Aar,” I groaned and then started in my chair when the elevator door dinged, signaling I was no longer the only person on my floor. “Great. Someone’s here and I’m sitting at my desk with a huge boner. Quit laughing and help me get rid of it.”

“That’s what I was trying to do in the first place!” Aaron insisted with a chuckle that morphed into a belly laugh. He sobered from his fit of hysteria with a dramatic sigh when I growled into the phone. “Okay, okay. I should get up anyway. What time will you be home tonight? Can you be here by six? Jack and Curt are coming for dinner. I’m leaving the office early to pick up a couple things at the market. Oh! And can you get the dry cleaning on your way home?”

“Sure, but I thought that was the point of a delivery service.”

“They said there was a mix up and they won’t be in our neighborhood until the end of the week. I can’t wait. I need my Zegna suit for a presentation with a British artiste tomorrow morning.”

“Okay. I’ll take care of it. Did you look at the paperwork for the refinance yet?”

“There goes my hard-on,” he snarked. “No, just tell me where to sign. I don’t want to read it. I trust you.”

“It’s going to save us a ton of money, babe.” I swiveled back to my computer and reached for my coffee mug.

I froze mid-sip when a shadow crossed my doorway. It was Jana, the bubbly new intern assigned to help a couple of the associates. Great. I motioned to my phone and my computer, hoping she’d take the hint and find something to do on her own. She didn’t. She leaned on the doorframe and crossed her arms under her ample bosom showcased in a tight, low cut red sweater. Her long brown hair fell artfully over one shoulder in a pose worthy of a fashion shot from Aaron’s magazine.

“You should still read the— Hang on, Aar,” I said before addressing Jana. “Hi. You’re here early.”

“Good morning, Mr. Sullivan. You said you had a deadline to meet, so I thought I’d come in earlier to help you. What can I do?” Her professional tone didn’t jibe with the come-hither look. Jana didn’t bother hiding her infatuation, which made accepting her “help” awkward as hell. I hoped the gooey looks would fade once she was buried under a mountain of laborious research and filing. So far, no such luck.

“Um…finish going through the memos. If there’s anything of note, pull it aside for me to look at later.”

“You got it, boss,” Jana said with a bright smile, tapping her long red nails on the door before pivoting on her high heels and heading toward her desk.

“Sorry Aar, I—”

“Don’t tell me. Jana.” Thankfully, Aaron sounded more amused than annoyed.

“Yeah,” I sighed.

“Someone’s in love with my hunky boyfriend,” he singsonged merrily.

“You, I hope.”

“Yes, but it looks like I have competition,” he teased.

“Don’t be ridiculous. And stop cackling. This isn’t funny. Her internship is up in May, but I can’t take the extra attention for another two months. I’ll have to come out. Again.”

“Poor Matty. I guess she didn’t get the hint when she saw me kiss you last week in your office that we aren’t Bert and Ernie.”

I chuckled. “Maybe not.”

“She wouldn’t be the first. Your mom still thinks we’re just really good friends.”

That stopped me. I didn’t like the resignation in his voice, like he was simply stating a fact. The sky is blue, the earth is round, my boyfriend’s mother thinks we’re good buddies who do everything together… I didn’t like it. At all.

“It doesn’t matter what she thinks. You aren’t my friend and—”

“Oh please! I’d have never made it to the tender age of twenty-nine if I cared what everyone thought of me,” he replied flippantly.

“You’re thirty-two,” I deadpanned as I pushed away from my desk and moved to the open door.

“Details, details. I’m off. Don’t forget the dry cleaning and be home by six. Curt and Jack will be here at seven.”

“Okay. Hey, wait.” Jana looked from her computer with an expectant smile as though she wasn’t sure whom I was addressing. I turned my head slightly but made sure I continued in a loud clear voice. “I love you, Aar. Have a good day.”

His squeal of delight and profuse declaration of love made me blush at least five shades of red. I couldn’t keep the silly grin from spreading across my face as I finally closed the door. My intern’s perturbed expression barely registered. Who cared what Jana the intern thought? Who cared what my mother thought? We were the only ones who mattered. We’d been saying that for years.

I stared unseeing at the contract on my computer lost in thought. I was surrounded with legal documents, journals and memos. Hell, I was in the business of creating air-tight, binding documents. Any decent lawyer knew there was power in a legally sanctioned title. Sure, Aaron was my friend, roommate, boyfriend, and my partner. However, those labels fell short. They hinted at who we were to each other, but they didn’t stake a claim. They didn’t let the world know he was the only one for me. They didn’t infer that I wanted to build a life with him, complete with every traditional trapping I’d always assumed would be mine one day, albeit with a woman. A home, a dog, kids. We weren’t playing house. Nothing about our relationship was casual. This was the real thing. A forever thing. Maybe it was time to do something about it. Legally.

Part 2- Better Than Engagement

The condo smelled amazing. I draped the dry cleaning bag over the edge of the sofa before making my way into the kitchen. I didn’t bother greeting the chef. He wouldn’t be able to hear me over the Drake song pumping through the speakers anyway. I hurried to adjust the volume before my eardrum burst or a neighbor pounded on the door. Aaron spun around in surprise, holding a knife in one hand and a tomato in the other.

“Dammit Matty, you scared me!”

I chuckled at his wide-eyed expression and raised my hands in surrender. “I’m sorry. Put the knife down…or at least the tomato.”

Aaron rolled his eyes and tossed both on the counter before throwing his arms around my neck and sealing his lips to mine. “Hi.”

“Hi yourself. How was your day?”

“Busy. Did you remember the dry cleaning?”

“Yeah. I left it on the sofa. Whatcha making?”

“I’m—Yikes! I have to stir.” He pushed out of my arms and hurried back to the stove. “I’m making the spaghetti Bolognese you like. I had grand plans to do arroz con pollo y plátanos, but the photo shoot ran late and I didn’t have time to run to the market, shower and make dinner. I’m not even sure I have all the spices I need for the adobo anyway. Pasta will have to do. Want a glass of wine?”

I ran a soothing hand down his back, noting he hadn’t shower or changed from his work clothes yet. Aaron didn’t have to wear a suit everyday like I did but he definitely wore business couture as befitting the assistant art director of a prominent DC fashion magazine. Today’s ensemble was well-fitted charcoal trousers and a pink oxford shirt with white cuffs and a pair of Italian loafers I knew for a fact cost more than everything else he had on put together. My guy had very expensive tastes.

A bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon and four wineglasses sat on the counter nearby. A plate of cheese and crackers was artfully displayed next to a short stack of black cocktail napkins and a huge candle. Our condo boasted an open design so the kitchen flowed seamlessly into the spacious living room. I glanced toward the dining area and noticed that the table was set and the geometric brass chandelier overhead was dimmed. A beautiful spring floral arrangement I was pretty sure hadn’t been there this morning graced the center of the round table. I grabbed his apron from the hook on the cabinet door and moved back to Aaron who giving me a rundown of his day as he spiced his sauce.

“…she wasn’t excited about me getting the assistant directorship so I have to do my best to win her over. Marsha is a tough cookie. If she wasn’t so damn good at—what are you doing?”

“You forgot your apron. Stand still,” I said as I slipped the cotton strap over his head and cupped his package.

“Behave. I’ve got a lot to do and they’ll be here in fifteen minutes.” He smacked my hand but countered the reprimand with a kiss and one of his beautiful megawatt smiles that always turned me inside out.

I moaned theatrically. “What’s the occasion? Everything looks so… fancy.”

“It’s nothing special. We were supposed to get together to celebrate my promotion last week, but Jack had to work and I thought it would be nicer to do something at home anyway.”

“It’s a Wednesday night,” I said in a flat tone, stating the obvious.

“So?” Aaron rinsed his hands and pointed at the wine meaningfully before picking up the knife and tomato he’d abandoned earlier. “Jack owns a bar. He can’t commit to weekends. You know that. We’re not old fogies. We can handle a midweek dinner. Shoot. Do you have to go into work early again tomorrow?”

I shook my head as I pulled the cork from the bottle and set it aside to breathe. Then I snuck a cracker from the marble cutting board and leaned against the counter to study my boyfriend. His hair fell over his eyes but I could tell he’d had a stressful day from the rigid set of his shoulders as he chopped tomatoes like a ninja warrior. He was a bundle of excess energy. Not the good kind.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Nothing. Why?”

“You look stressed. It’s Curt and Jack, babe. Order a pizza. They’d be fine with—”

“Pizza is only appropriate for casual get-togethers. This is supposed to be nice.”

I rolled my eyes and reached out to poke his side playfully but the reflection of unshed tears in his gaze stopped me in my tracks.

“Aaron, what is it?” I set a firm hand on his elbow.

“Huh? Nothing. They’ll be here soon and the salad isn’t done and—”

I moved my hand to his wrist and tightened my grip until he let go of the knife. I was mildly amused when he rounded on me with a pointed finger and switched from English to Spanish. The fiery Latin thing was really fucking cute… and sexy as hell. But when the tears threatened to spill, I was instantly alarmed.

“Hey, hey, hey…talk to me, hothead. What’s going on?” I pulled him against me and held him tight, resting my chin on his head. I threaded my fingers through his hair and kissed his temple. Our size difference made it easy for him to burrow close. I easily had him by five inches. “Aar?”

Aaron sighed and clandestinely swiped at the corner of his eye before stepping backward with a reassuring smile.

“I’m fine. I just had one of those days. One of the models accidently ripped a dress in the fitting and the designer had a cow. It took an hour to calm them both down, which meant everything after was behind schedule. I was one minute late to a meeting with Marsha who made it clear she was unhappy about the sixty second delay. Then of course, she hated the spread. The lighting was wrong. The backdrop was hideous and the models looked like they all needed a meal. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to clobber her or just fucking cry. It took everything I had to keep it together.”

“I’m sorry, baby.”

“Thanks. I’m not overly concerned. I know I’ll prove myself eventually. But I didn’t have time to make the dinner I wanted to. And don’t ask me about the refinance paperwork. I felt like throwing it in the trash after my conversation with your mother. Roommates don’t share the mortgage, do they?”

Oh fuck. That explained everything.

Aaron grumbled under his breath in Spanish as he dumped the tomatoes into a salad bowl with more force than necessary. I let out a deep breath then moved to the wine and poured two generous glasses. Mother discussions required alcohol.

“What did my mom say?”

I handed him a wineglass after he set the salad bowl in the refrigerator and untied his apron ribbon. He took the glass and clinked it against mine then offered a wan smile.

“Nothing overt. You mother is the queen of subtle insults. Sometimes I wish you were Puerto Rican. We don’t do subtle. If we’re angry, we don’t beat around the bush and talk about something vaguely related to what really pisses us off. Not that I have to guess with her. She hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you, Aar. She just has a hard time understanding us. She needs time to—”

“It’s been four fucking years! How much time does she need?” He set his glass down with enough force to crack the stem. “Whatever. It’s the same old shit. I shouldn’t have picked up the phone without looking at the caller ID. She was pleasant at first. She asked about my recipe and who was coming over. Then she said she could tell I was in a rush. If I’d been smart, I would have said goodbye but I was too wound up after my day and I didn’t take my out. Instead…I gave her a little TMI.”

“What did you say?”

“I said I wanted to get the sauce going so I could look at the loan paperwork like I promised Matty. And yeah…I said Matty.”

“O-kay.”

“She got chilly very quickly. She reminded me Matthew was a lawyer who undoubtedly would be more than capable of handling his own mortgage. And then she made up some lame excuse to get off the phone so she could hang up on me.”

Truthfully that didn’t sound like a horrible exchange but I was getting smarter at this boyfriend thing. Just because I didn’t find something offensive didn’t mean Aaron felt the same.

“Well…”

“You don’t get it, do you?”

“Uh. No. I don’t think she meant it meanly, babe. She—”

“Bullshit. She hates when I call you Matty and she hates knowing my name is on any legal form associated with you. It’s a reminder the novelty of me hasn’t run its course for you yet. She wants to get to know a daughter-in-law to be, not waste time with the overly fabulous gay man answering her son’s phone. You mother can’t stand that I’m still part of your life after all these years.”

“You aren’t part of my life, Aar. You are my life.”

This time Aaron’s smile was incandescent. It was warm and sunny enough to make this cold evening in mid March feel like a warm summer day. He snaked his arms over my shoulders and kissed me breathless. I swore I saw stars when he pulled back to study me with a sexy grin.

“Sometimes you know exactly the right thing to say. I love you, Matty.”

“I love you too.”

We shared a sappy smile as we stared at each other like lovesick fools. It was a perfect moment. The kind you think you might always remember. The kitchen smelled heavenly, the house was beautifully lit with candles and Drake had given way to the Chainsmokers song I’d just learned how to play on my guitar. In retrospect, I should have sung to him and danced him around the island to make him laugh. Or even offered to play the song so he could sing along. A whimsical change in focus would have kept things light and happy. More importantly, it would have saved me from saying something stupid to effectively ruin everything.

But no… I opened my big mouth instead.

“You know, I’ve been thinking we should make this legal anyway.”

Aaron immediately stiffened in my arms and pulled away. He picked up his wine glass and twirled the burgundy liquid lazily before giving me a look I couldn’t read well. It was wary and somewhat guarded.

“What do you mean by legal?”

“You know… like get married.” I shrugged and reached for my own wine. I downed half the glass in a way that would have made my college buddies cheer my name wildly if we’d been in a beer-guzzling contest back in school. My significant other, however, was not impressed. Unfortunately, I didn’t think my manners were the problem.

“Are you asking me to marry you?”

“Uh… yeah. Sure. Why not?”

My mouth was dry. My heart was beating like a drum. I’d been thinking about this a lot lately but fuck, marriage was a big word. So was wedding and husband. I was suddenly scared shitless. Jesus, did I just propose? It wasn’t too warm in the kitchen, but I was sweating and nervous as hell. And Aaron…well, he looked pissed. Or maybe even hurt.

I set my glass down and then gently caressed his chin with my thumb. “That wasn’t smooth. I can do better. I—I love you and I want to marry you.”

“No.”

“No?”

“This is how you’re going to ask me to marry you? To prove something to your mother or to make signing a set of loan documents easier? I’m not a legal afterthought, Matthew. Don’t you dare try to neatly tie up your commitments with my signature on the dotted line because it’s more convenient than—”

“You’re not convenient at all! I mean—” I raked my hand through my hair and pursed my lips. “I didn’t mean that. C’mon, Aar, give me a break. I’m not trying to be a jerk. I’m sorry my mom hurt your feelings. I’m sorry you had a rough day. I’m trying to tell you I lo—”

“Stop. Just leave it for now. Jack and Curt are going to be here soon. We can talk later. I’m frustrated and I’m not being fair and… I’m sorry.”

I furrowed my brow but nodded in acquiescence. I didn’t want to leave this conversation here but he was right. At the rate I was going, I’d end up putting my other foot in my mouth before the doorbell rang anyway. Later was good.

Later was only good in theory. The problem was I couldn’t stop thinking about what we’d said. My mom, loan papers, his day, my day… none of it was significant. And it certainly didn’t explain an impromptu marriage proposal. Was I serious or was it an impulse offer I had no business making without carefully thinking through first? I was glad Curt and Jack were there to provide a friendly diversion in the aftermath. I needed a break from my thoughts.

“This is fantastic, Aaron. I need the recipe,” Curt gushed as he twirled spaghetti noodles around his fork.

“Thank you. I was going to do something fancier but time was not on my side tonight,” Aaron said.

Aaron grabbed a piece of garlic bread from the basket in the middle of the table, broke it in two and set one half on my plate. It was one of those quirky things he always did. He was big on sharing food. It could be a bite of something amazing he’d ordered at a restaurant that he wanted me to try or whatever was left on his plate at home. Food was a big deal to Aaron. He loved cooking for friends and family and he was an excellent chef. In a way, it was a creative and emotional outlet for him. It relaxed him and allowed him to do something for the people he cared about most. Needless to say, I never cooked. The kitchen was Aaron’s domain. Toast and cereal were my culinary limit these days. And Curt wasn’t fooling anyone at this table. He was just like me.

Jack snorted in amusement and dabbed at the corner of his mouth with his napkin. “Curtis honey, what exactly would you do with the recipe? Use it as a bookmarker for the cookbooks you never open?”

“Ha. Ha. The recipe is for you. Not me, smartass,” Curt huffed primly.

He yelped a second later when his boyfriend pinched his arm in playful retribution. Jack captured Curt’s wrist before he could pull away and laced their fingers together. Then he raised their joined hands and kissed Curt’s knuckles like a leading-man in a romantic movie. I smiled at their antics. They were a cool couple. And in many ways, they were as different as Aaron and me.

Curt and Jack were polar opposites. Jack was tall, dark and drop dead sexy. And he was fourteen years older than Curt. He owned two businesses; a motorcycle shop for sales and repair and a gay bar that catered to a masculine crowd. It wasn’t a leather bar or a bear hangout but they didn’t play disco music or invite drag queens to lip-synch either, which meant it wasn’t necessarily Aaron’s kind of hangout either. Or Curt’s.

Curt was infinitely more conservative than his tattooed, laid-back boyfriend. He was fanatical about timeliness and deadlines. We’d been good friends since we were roommates in law school at Georgetown. Curt’s cautious nature was offset by a self-deprecating sense of humor and a friendly demeanor that drew people to him. He and Jack had been together for a couple years now. Perhaps they looked like an odd match to outsiders, but they definitely fit.

The intricate design of the tattoo sleeve on Jack’s left arm against Curt’s white button-down oxford shirt made me smile. I glanced over at Aaron, knowing he was probably thinking the same thing, albeit in a mushier way.

I was right. The look on my man’s face spoke volumes. It was the starry-eyed look of a true romantic.

I knew that look well. Aaron got it when he saw old people holding hands or young families pushing strollers and juggling dog leashes. It was the one he’d get at the end of any Hugh Grant rom-com regardless of how many times he’d watched the movie. An Adele song could occasionally do the trick too. But his best gooey looks were the ones he reserved for me. When I played a love song on my guitar and dedicated it to him like I was a rock star on a stage instead of the dork sitting at the end of the sofa. Or when I brought him flowers or held the door for him or brought him a cup of coffee on a Sunday morning. Little things I did without thinking that made him beam at me like I was a freaking hero.

No wonder he looked so damned disappointed earlier.

I messed up. If I wanted what I thought I did, I had to do it right. I had to be… romantic. Fuck.

Part 3

You know that feeling when every other word out of your mouth sounds awkward as hell and you can’t seem to stop the madness? That was me. All night long. Someone mentioned a new bar in town and my brain turned it into the kind of bar a law student must pass to become an official lawyer. I literally stared at Curt with a dopey look on my face until he crossed his eyes and mouthed “you okay?”. Obviously not, but a concerned Curt was the last thing I needed. He’d ask questions and I’d say…what? “I’m obsessing about asking Aaron to marry me”… Not happening. I vowed to pay better attention.

Thankfully, conversation floated easily between the others. I nodded when required but they seemed to be doing fine with an occasional word or two from me to let them know I was present. However, when the topic turned to our friends, Jay and Peter, who were in California interviewing a potential surrogate candidate, I lost my voice completely. My mind started spinning and then ricocheting, making it difficult to hear anything above my inner static. I wanted kids one day too, and we weren’t getting any younger. Aaron would be a great dad. Of course, we’d have to get to married first but—

“Matt told me he wants at least four kids. Right, buddy?” Curt kicked my shin under the table then fluttered his eyes innocently.

“Four what? Kids?” I sputtered as I came crashing back to reality. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, how many do you want?” he pressed with a mischievous grin.

“Uh… I don’t know. Two?”

“Is that a question or a statement?”

“That’s a fuck off, Curtster. How many you and Jack want?” I retorted, finally regaining my cool.

“None,” Jack answered quickly before adding in a slow Southern drawl, “Curt might change my mind some day but we’re fine spoiling our niece and nephew for now.”

“I love being an uncle too, but when the time is right, I could definitely be talked into kids one day,” Aaron said wistfully.

“Two,” I blurted, reaching for Aaron’s hand.

“Two would gre—”

“But not until we get married.”

I wasn’t sure who was in control of my mouth, but it didn’t feel like me anymore. What the fuck was I doing talking about marriage in front of our friends? It was so… not me. And everyone there knew it.

I was treated to an incredulous three-way stare. My vehemence was probably more surprising than the statement itself but either way, the ensuing silence made me sweat. I let go of Aaron’s hand to wipe my clammy palm on my suit pants before giving him a tentative sideway glance. He responded with a radiant grin, then leaned in and kissed my cheek.

“When the time is right, Matty.”

 

Aaron talked around his toothbrush as he got ready for bed later that night. Every other word was unintelligible but I’d become adept at understanding the occasional distorted sentence. It was part of our nightly ritual. A daily dance we did so well, I could gage his mood and level of exhaustion by how chatty he was while he brushed. Tonight, he was happy and peppy. An evening with friends had rejuvenated him and put him in a better frame of mind than he’d been in earlier. I was relieved but still wary of my own strange mood.

“…I wasn’t sure how Jack would react to—” His garbled speech echoed off the glass tiles in the master bathroom before he bent to spit and rinse. “—but Curt thinks he’s not the jealous type.”

“Jealous about what?” I wiped my mouth on the fluffy white towel before turning to stand behind Aaron. I slid my arms around his waist and nuzzled his neck.

“Not what… whom. Paul. You know Paul…tall, blond, handsome… and British.” He waggled his eyebrows in a silly attempt at being lascivious that made me laugh.

“Of course I know Paul. What about him?”

“You weren’t listening, were you? He’s coming back to DC. It’s not a big deal.” He squinted at me in the mirror. “You know…I’m starting to worry about you, Matt. You’re very preoccupied tonight. Is it work or is it me? I’m sorry I dropped that nonsense with your mom on you when you got home. It wasn’t fair.”

“No, I’m glad you told me. It just… it made me think of other things. Grown up stuff, like mortgages and—”

“Ugh! No refinance talk, please. I’ll sign whatever you want me to tomorrow.” Aaron groaned and threw his head back to rest on my shoulder.

I bit his earlobe playfully then slipped my fingers under the elastic of his boxer briefs and cupped his balls. “That’s not what I meant. I— it feels like time is accelerating and we’re fooling ourselves into thinking it’s not.”

“You aren’t making any sense.” He tilted his hips, looking for friction. “Mmm. Feels good.”
“I’m saying we’re already in the next phase of adulthood and we haven’t acknowledged it. We share a home, a mortgage and a bank account. I know discussions about kids and marriage is serious, grown-up shit, but I think we should…you know…”

Aaron snorted then adjusted my hand so I gripped his cock firmly. “I can’t believe I’m still hard. Seriously, Matty? What part of mortgage and marriage is sexy?”

“Ours will be sexy. I’ll make sure of it.” I pushed my boxers over my rigid dick then licked my palm before stroking him from base to tip.

He jutted forward and backward like he couldn’t decide what he wanted more. My hand on his shaft or my cock riding his ass.

“So good. Just don’t—” Aaron let out a low moan when I bit his shoulder.

“Don’t what?”

He turned in my arms and licked my lips before staring up at me. “Don’t ask me to marry you to tick a box off your to-do list. Heteronormative rules don’t apply. We don’t have to do anything in any order but the one that feels right to us. We make the rules here. It’s like I told you at dinner… we’ll know when the time is right. So stop worrying. Nothing has changed. We’re good.”

I nodded at his sage words. I agreed with everything but his aversion to so-called “heteronormative rules”. Aaron knew I had old-fashioned ideas. I still wanted the traditional trappings I thought I’d have before I acknowledged I was bisexual and in love with a man. But I wasn’t a complete moron. I wasn’t going to touch that old argument when his leaking cock was nudging my upper thigh.

“You’re right.”

“There’s no hurry.” He beamed at me then reached around to squeeze my ass. “And whatever you do…don’t ask me any life altering questions when I have dried toothpaste on my face.”

I laughed at his faux serious expression and brushed his bangs away from his eyes. “Where?”

“Here. I can feel it.” His eyes twinkled as he pointed to the corner of his mouth.

I tilted Aaron’s chin and dutifully licked the imaginary toothpaste away. The gesture took on a symbolic quality of letting go with a reminder to remain in the moment. Now was what counted.

I nibbled his lips, pausing to glide my tongue over his before licking a path along his jaw and down his neck. Aaron writhed in my arms, raking his fingers through my hair and down my sides before slipping his hand between us to grip me in a punishing hold. I rocked my hips forward as he stroked me. It didn’t take long for me to lose my rhythm. He was too good at this and he knew exactly what I liked. But I wanted more.

“Bed.” I smacked his ass and gestured like a Neanderthal toward our room.

Aaron gave me a sexy lopsided grin as he stepped out of his boxer briefs then moved toward the king-size bed. An overhead reading light illuminated one side, casting a warm glow over his olive skin. I stopped to admire his toned back and pert ass as he scrambled to shove the white duvet aside and then reach for the bottle of lube on the bedside table. I jacked myself, smearing precum in a slow circular motion over the head of my cock while I watched him spread his cheeks and finger his hole. My heart tripped at the sight. Fuck, he was beautiful. I had a sudden vision of him gripping the headboard that morning. He was so in tune with his body. So confident and sure. I nearly lost my balance as I moved toward my lover.

“What do you want, Matty? Do you want my on my knees? Do you want me to ride—”

“Suck me,” I demanded in a low voice I didn’t recognize as mine.

Aaron shivered visibly at the command. He hopped on the bed and arranged himself on all fours for a moment before collapsing on his stomach. I moved toward him and tapped my cock against his cheek meaningfully. Aaron glanced up at me then gave me a Cheshire cat grin and swallowed me whole. I held on to his shoulder for balance and did my best not to let go immediately though the desire to pull his hair and fuck his mouth was strong. I grabbed the lube and poured some on my right hand then leaned over to massage the cool gel over his entrance. His groan of approval sent a tremor along my spine that turned into a tingle of awareness I knew meant this could be over sooner that I planned.

Aaron sucked me voraciously as he arched his back and wiggled his ass. When I pushed my finger inside, his breath hitched. He released me with a pop and looked up at me with a lusty gaze. “More.”

I added a second digit and worked my fingers in and out. The angle was awkward but he didn’t seem to mind. He alternately sucked and stroked me while he moved his hips.

“Aar, stop. I need to be inside you.” I tugged his hair and bent to kiss his forehead. He knelt up and started to turn around. “No. On your back.”

He wordlessly obeyed. I added more lube before crawling between his thighs. I ran my fingers over his stomach then lined my cock at his entrance and pushed.

“Oh fuck!”

“You okay?” I trembled with the effect to stay still and let him acclimate. He felt amazing. So tight and warm and fuck…

“Yeah. I—I’m ready.”

I surged forward slowly, moving inch by inch until I was buried balls deep inside him. I watched him for clues. Was I crushing him? Or was he as strung out and desperate as me? He closed his eyes for a moment and rolled his hips experimentally before nodding. I took the hint and began to move, slowly at first before picking up the tempo. Aaron lifted himself to meet me thrust for thrust. He dug his heels into my ass, urging me on. Harder, faster, more. His rigid cock was trapped between us, naturally lubed with sweat and precum.

I shifted my weight to sit back just as he threw his arms around my neck and opened his eyes. I immediately faltered. I held myself over him and stared for a moment, blindsided by the rush of absolute trust and love in his gaze. We were locked in a silent communication that catapulted the physical connection to a higher plane. When we moved again, we soared. We flew high above our bodies entwined in our bed. We transcended the act of making love and became the very essence of love. And then I was gone, tumbling and spiraling through space when our orgasms hit at the same time a moment later. We clung tightly to each other, gasping for air.

A beautiful quiet descended in the aftermath. Words weren’t necessary, except…

“I love you, Matty.”

I bent to kiss him softly. “I love you too, baby.”

Holy shit. I was in over my head. I was in so deep, I knew I’d never find my way out again. It was fucking scary as hell, but it was incredible too. And so fucking worth it.

**To be continued…Lane Hayes is grateful to finally be doing what she loves best. Writing full-time! It’s no secret Lane loves a good romance novel. An avid reader from an early age, she has always been drawn to well-told love story with beautifully written characters. These days she prefers the leading roles to both be men. Lane discovered the M/M genre a few years ago and was instantly hooked. Her debut novel was a 2013 Rainbow Award finalist and subsequent books have received Honorable Mentions, and were winners in the 2016 Rainbow Awards. She loves red wine, chocolate and travel (in no particular order). Lane lives in Southern California with her amazing husband in an almost empty nest.

Books by Lane Hayes (Dreamspinner Press):

Better Than Good, Better Than Chance, Better Than Friends, Better Than Safe, The Right Words, The Wrong Man & The Right Time         A Kind Of Truth                      A Kind of Romance

And A Kind of Honesty

 

Contact Information:

Website: http://lanehayes.wordpress.com

Twitter:   @LaneHayes3

Facebook: LaneHayesauthor

Email:   lanehayes@ymail.com