“I love to cycle,” Alex mumbled. “So free.”
Simon pulled back the comforter, and Alex curled up on the bed, snuggling under the blankets when Simon tugged them back under his chin.
“Alex?”
“Mm?”
“We’ve eaten together twice. Does this mean we’re dating?”
Alex giggled a little. “If we were dating, you’d have kissed me by now.”
“Mm. Next date, I promise.”
And he was there and warm and kind, and Alex didn’t care about passion. He cared about comfort. “Tonight?” he asked a little pitifully.
Simon’s lips against his forehead were regretful—and they left a tingle, a growing want. “I’ll stop by before sunset, just out of curiosity,” he promised. “But Audra and I have our weekly movie date and….” He sighed. “She’s been a good friend this last year.”
Alex regarded him soberly, so close. He smelled good—aftershave and cinnamon and wool from that amazing coat. That tingle was spreading, turning into a buzz. “That’s… that’s sexy,” he said, surprising himself. “Someone who keeps a movie date with a friend.”
“You value friendship.” It was obviously not a question.
“I do. I’d be sort of a dick if I didn’t value yours.”
Simon’s chuckle warmed the remaining cool places in his stomach, and the gentle pressure of the dog at the foot of the bed sealed the deal.
“Sleep well,” Simon murmured, and the next kiss was on his lips.
Alex opened his mouth, and the buzz turned into a crave, fighting against the layers of exhaustion and confusion to sweep over Alex’s body in record time.
Alex struggled to wake up, open his eyes, grab Simon by the collar, and haul him into this single bed because oh… oh, his lips, his taste, the feel of his tongue invading, sweeping through Alex’s mouth, his inhibitions.
“Mm.” Simon pulled back, his eyes wide, his mouth swollen. “Oh. My.” He smiled, a sort of sloppy, dreamy smile that just made Alex want to kiss him more.
“You…. Oh wow.” Alex lay there, stunned and thrilled. “I never expected that.”
“Oh, I did,” Simon said, laughing. “And I need to leave now because I want more.”
“That’s bad?” Alex tried to push himself up on his elbow, but Simon stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“I want to do that when you’re wide awake,” Simon said on what sounded like a deep, centering breath. “I want to take my time.” He swallowed. “Eventually.”
Alex fell back against the pillows, undone by that one word.
“Eventually?”
“Oh yeah.” Simon ran a finger under his collar. “Eventually we’d slow down enough to take our time.”
“Oh.”
That’s all he had. The knowledge that if he and Simon ever had a real chance to kiss, it wouldn’t just be a kiss. And it definitely wouldn’t be once. There would have to be an eventually when they could slow down and do it right, because the first couple of times might go a little fast.
Eventually
“SIMON. Simon, are you paying attention?”
Christopher Lockhart was one of Simon’s oldest, dearest friends, but sometimes Simon’s biggest energy diversion was not telling Chris to grow the fuck up.
“You’re telling me that unless you and Jasmine get your shit together, she’s going to gain control of your shares of the business, and we’re going to have to work with that lying, cheating whore-bag while she makes you fork over your carefully amassed fortune to pay child support for a child who’s not yours.” Damn California’s weird paternity laws anyway. Even if they could get a paternity test on her unborn child—and the law said they couldn’t—she would pretty much have to renounce her claim to Chris’s money and business, period, if Chris wanted to come out with his skin intact.
“You don’t need to sound so bored,” Chris said, miffed. He only seemed miffed, though. Chris—who favored bespoke suits and silk ties and his blond hair cut into expensive coifs that lasted about seven days but looked fabulous for the first six—checked an impeccable diamond cuff link and raised an eyebrow. “Have you heard all this before?”
Simon just blinked at him and maintained a steady gaze as Chris paced the length of Simon’s corner office like a caged silk/wool-covered tiger.
“Gabby, make him pay attention.”
Gabriela Baldwin stretched her long, stocking-clad legs out over the green leather couch that sat against one of the two walls with a window view. Simon had positioned his desk at the far end of the office so he could look out both windows and still see the door—and, by default, look at the people lounging on his office furniture while using his pricey ergonomic chair.
It was almost like he’d been planning for days like today, when Chris was damned close to flushing everything they’d worked for over the last twelve years right down the crapper.
“He’s paying attention,” she said, her British accent clipped. “Unlike you, who paid no attention when we told you to sign a prenup because that woman had conniving gold-digger written all over her. And unlike you, who laughed in our faces when we told you not to trust her family lawyer. And unlike you, who didn’t even talk to the lawyer we have on retainer when you found her in bed with—hello!—her Pilates instructor, because clichés are her thing. We paid attention the whole damned time, Chris, and now we’re bored. We need you to get to the part where we either figure out what to do about your conniving soon-to-be ex-wife, or we just declare bankruptcy, lose our company, our reputations, and have to start again.”
Simon blew out a breath. God, they were drama queens.
“That’s not going to happen,” he said patiently. “Because—again unlike you, Chris—I did talk to our lawyer, and she did go about protecting our assets. Jasmine can’t lay a finger on our company.” He scowled at Chris. “You, on the other hand, might want to cut back on the suits, the cars, and the expensive scotch, because those are your personal assets, and she’s got you by the short hairs there, buddy. But don’t worry. I’ve transferred about half of our investments to Lowell & Robbins, and they assure me they can make up your losses in only a couple of years. So the company is safe, the branches are safe, and you’re fucked. Now sit down, have some of my excellent coffee, and if either of you are interested, I have some fresh-baked cinnamon rolls here that are, quite frankly, divine.” With that, he pulled out the pink pastry box that a solicitous Lachlan had put into his hand as Simon had been walking out the door that morning. Simon had smiled and floundered for thanks, speechless, because it was such a simple, generous act.
Alex Kennedy’s friends were really tremendous, weren’t they?
“Simon, you shit, I thought you’d never ask,” Gabby said, her infinity-pool black eyes going limpid in her stunningly beautiful face. Gabby—who stood nearly six feet tall and had skin of the deepest, darkest brown, with her hair cut short and left natural—had emerged from adolescence with the grace of the proverbial swan.