Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 93096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
* * *
“You sure you’re okay?” Tucker asked Luis as they walked back into his dark house together. The twins were still out, Wade texting that they’d started another movie at Mitch’s and Walker still at Mary Anne’s, and both adding that they were likely to sleep at Heidi’s, a move that had aspiring matchmaker Wade’s fingerprints all over it. He flipped on the hall light while Luis hung close beside him.
“No. Not okay.” Luis shrugged, weary half-smile on his lips. “You?”
“Nope.” At least they could be honest together. Being with Luis at the party had been bittersweet—sweet because for the first time, Tucker could truly see how it could work here. Good food, good friends, no one there who cared whether he and Luis were more than coworkers, and good inspiration in the form of other couples making a long-term go of things. Hell, simply the way Rain and Garrick looked at each other was sugar overload. And sitting next to Luis, who wasn’t so bad at heated looks himself, definitely qualified as sweet. But also bitter because everyone kept talking about the California fires, and Tucker could practically feel the space-time continuum conspiring to zap Luis back there, body and mind, like one of the old sci-fi movies they’d enjoyed so much as kids.
“Sorry.” Eyes serious like he was apologizing for more than a bleak mood, Luis touched Tucker’s sleeve.
“You think we should talk about it?” Tucker gestured at the couch, but Luis tugged him toward the stairs instead.
“Not yet.”
“No?” Tucker truly was in no great hurry to have this conversation either, but the yet, now that was different. And ominous.
“Later. Right now, your kids are gone, my cat’s asleep on your sofa, and it’s okay if you don’t want sex, but I want to hold you and not talk for a while.”
“I feel that.” He absolutely did. Escaping the world sounded perfect right then, and it wasn’t like he had the words ready to explain everything in his head. Maybe if they hid out together long enough, the right words would come.
Following Luis to his room, he shut the door and fiddled with the dimmer and fireplace. They might be miserable, but at least they could be cozy and miserable. Silently, they stripped down to their underwear and climbed under the covers.
“This work?” Trying to give Luis what he needed and wanted, Tucker moved into one of his new favorite positions, head on Luis’s shoulder and chest, arm and leg across him. They’d fallen asleep like this more than once, and he loved all the little details—the drag of their fuzzy legs against each other, the warmth of Luis’s skin under his cheek, the sound of his heart and breathing, the secureness of Luis’s arms holding him even closer.
“Perfect.” Luis kissed the top of his head, and they lay there, breathing deeply for long moments. Where Luis’s thoughts were, Tucker couldn’t say, but for himself, he tried to block out everything other than the rise and fall of Luis’s chest. He wanted to memorize Luis’s scent, the way it mingled past and present with its familiar clean notes layered with his newer choices of aftershave and shampoo. Luis’s strong arm around his back was a heavy, welcome weight, keeping him tightly in Luis’s embrace, as if he’d even dream of escaping.
He was more than half-hard against Luis’s hip, and Luis was in a similar state, but neither of them moved to make this about anything other than finding comfort together. Not yet. In a moment they’d kiss. In a moment their hands would roam. In a moment they’d be that much closer to the conversation neither of them wanted to have. But right now there was this and Luis was right—it was perfect.
Tucker’s eyes burned, whether from emotion or from trying so hard not to drift off, he couldn’t say. Luis moved his fingers restlessly against Tucker’s back, the only clue that he too was still plenty awake.
“There’s always been something so right about holding you. Always,” Luis whispered.
“Yeah.” He had to swallow hard. “I wish—”
“No wishes.” Leaning down, Luis silenced him with a soft kiss across his mouth. “No regrets.”
Tucker already knew he wouldn’t be able to stick to that. So many wishes. So many regrets, past, present, and future alike. But he didn’t have to voice them. Not yet. Not when the alternative was to kiss Luis back, matching his tenderness, soaking it all up. His heart soared with everything he wasn’t able to articulate, finding all it needed in Luis’s kiss. They might not be able to talk, but their lips wrote poetry together.
Eventually, those sonnets turned more urgent than sweet and sad, their bodies adding a thrum of need, underscoring everything they weren’t saying. Luis rolled toward him, meeting in the middle, bodies in alignment even if nothing else was.