Saugatuck Summer (Saugatuck, #1)(19)
“They’re absolutely gorgeous, even if they’re not quite what I had in mind when I envisioned doing it.”
“Oh?” A little bit of energy must have been returning, because I could lift my head again to peer down at him.
“Mm-hm.” He chuckled softly. “When the idea first occurred to me, I assumed I’d be topping, so I imagined for the second set, you’d have that completely wrung-out look exclusive to someone who’s been well and truly f*cked . . . the way I probably appeared a few minutes ago.” He kissed my shoulder, ending with a nip on the muscle there. “You took me by surprise, there. And that’s so not a complaint, by the way.”
I smiled, stroking fingers up and down his spine as he continued to pepper my shoulder and chest with soft kisses.
“Well.” I hummed thoughtfully when I could move again, rolling onto my stomach and turning my face to peer at him through my smudged eyes. “You could always take a third set.”
His eyes danced again as he grinned at me. He growled and lunged up, pushing his face into the curve of my neck and sucking hard on the skin there as his weight settled on my back, his cock beginning to firm up against the crack of my ass.
“Oh, f*ck yeah.”
Something’s got to get me through
I can’t take another disappointment
Still I return to you with my arms open
With my heart stolen
—Casey Stratton, “Cruel Hand of Fate”
The hangover excuse didn’t float quite as well around noon the next day when I returned home, no doubt still looking very sex-drunk and sporting an impressive array of hickeys (turned out Jace liked to suck on my neck. A lot.). I was tired and sated and so f*cked out I could barely drag my exhausted—and delightfully sore—ass up the stairs, much less squirm uncomfortably when Brendan’s eyes widened. Then his face shut down, going carefully blank.
I barely managed to keep my eyes open as I showered, washing away the scent of amazing sex with a considerable amount of regret. Still, even blissed out in the aftermath of an all-night sex-a-thon that truly did rock my world, it bothered me more than I liked that Brendan might think badly of me for the way I’d chosen to spend my time.
I sighed as I finally began to drift off. And that is the great hypocrisy of my existence.
Despite my protestations, I still had f*cks left to give about what people thought of me after all.
I finally dragged myself out of bed around dinnertime. When I shuffled down the stairs, Brendan looked up from tossing a salad. “Evening, Topher. Hungry?”
“Starved.” I nodded enthusiastically, grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge and then working around him to unload the dishwasher and do the other cleaning-up chores I hadn’t done in two days, despite our agreement. “Sorry, I should’ve found out if you needed me to pick anything up on my way home.”
Brendan waved me off, laughing softly. “Don’t worry about it. In our family, birthday celebrations come complete with chore amnesty.”
I smiled, grabbing the dishes to lay out place settings at the breakfast bar, where we’d taken to having our meals. With just the two of us, it didn’t seem worth it to set the table.
Thanks to Brendan’s easygoing attitude, the self-consciousness of this morning was evaporating. If he was offended by anything I’d done, it didn’t show. And more importantly, if he was, I didn’t seem to care as much as I had when I’d arrived home. Maybe lack of sleep and the intensity of the sex the night before had just left me feeling raw-edged and vulnerable when I’d walked in and assumed he was put off. Now that I’d rested, I was calmer.
So calm, in fact, that it seemed like getting laid might have done what I’d intended it to do. I didn’t feel like I was in danger of slipping and getting all awkward and bumbling and puppy-dog smitten with Brendan tonight. I could look at him as just Mo’s dad and a nice guy I was rooming with for the summer, without that undercurrent of attraction constantly threatening to embarrass me.
“That smells delicious. What are you cooking?” I asked, opening the refrigerator. “Water, tonight? Beer? Soda?”
“Lasagna, so open that bottle of red on the wine rack. Unless, of course, you’re too hungover for wine.”
I chuckled, glad I didn’t blush discernibly. “No, I think I’m actually okay. And lasagna? Seriously? Wow.”
“Well, a birthday dinner calls for a little effort, I think.” He shrugged, bending down to pull out a bubbling pan overflowing with dripping cheese.
“Birthday—” I cringed self-consciously. “Oh God, you didn’t have to.”
He shrugged again, and tossed a foil-wrapped loaf of what smelled like garlic bread into the oven. “I didn’t get a chance to find out what your preference might be, so I just went with Morgan’s usual choice in birthday dinners. Hopefully you like it.”
“Ooh, yeah. Mo has good taste. Thank you.” I stared at it almost lustfully, and my stomach started grumbling, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten much in the last two days. The day before, I’d been too focused on getting out of the house for a day to stop and eat, and today I’d been pretty much unconscious the whole time. I located the corkscrew and began to work it into the wine bottle. “Wow. No way am I going for my swim tonight.”