Page 127 of A Cold Hard Truth

Remington chuckled, releasing Sebastian’s tie and smoothing it down the front of his shirt. “Good boys get good rewards.”

“Rem,” Sebastian panted.

“Get up.”

Sebastian grimaced, but did as he was told.

He always did what he was told.

It was one of the things Remington loved the most about him.

Sebastian finished righting himself and Remington sat up a little straighter on the couch, bringing his face level with the erection that tented Sebastian’s slacks. He raised a hand and smiled to himself, noting he no longer shook when he reached for Sebastian. Remington cradled Sebastian’s erection in his palm, rubbing and squeezing until Sebastian’s thighs quaked.

“We have a gala to attend.” Remington leaned closer, mouthing the words through Sebastian’s slacks, his lips moving over the hot and barely restrained body part beneath. “We have to play the part. We have to smile. Shake hands. Have a drink.”

“A bottle,” Sebastian groaned, reaching for Remington’s hair, but stopping himself.

“Keep your head on straight, and when we get home, I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Is that an order?” Sebastian asked.

“Isn’t it always?” Remington slid his hands down the outside of Sebastian’s thighs, putting space between them.

“Yes.”

Remington stood, aligning their bodies and bringing his hands up to cradle Sebastian’s face. The other man looked like he was in agony and desperate for Remington to put him out of it. But the longer they were together, the more they played, the more they experimented, the more confident Remington became. He knew what he wanted, and he knew what he wanted Sebastian to have. He didn’t doubt his ability to give it to them both, and he no longer doubted Sebastian’s trust in him.

“Then it’s time to go.” Remington dipped his head down and kissed Sebastian. Quick and chaste, then he sidestepped toward the front door. “Grant will be waiting.”

Sebastian exhaled loudly, adjusting his erection behind the waistband of his pants. “It never won’t amuse me that your boss is named Grant and he’s so horrible at finding them.”

“He doesn’t need to now, does he? Not with my secret philanthropist over here.”

Remington gathered his personal effects off the counter and fidgeted with his black silk bow tie. Sebastian came to him, swatting his hands away and straightening the ends. He blinked up at Remington with an expression that had his heart threatening to burst with happiness.

“There,” Sebastian murmured, dragging his hands over the black pearl buttons on the front of Remington’s dress shirt.

“Am I presentable?”

“More than.”

Remington, in turn, fixed Sebastian’s tie, and Sebastian followed him quietly out of the apartment and down to the waiting town car.

“You know,” Remington said, crawling into the back seat and sliding over to make room, “at first your brother’s car thing annoyed me, but I’ve gotten quite used to it.”

“Using your money has its perks, Remington.” Sebastian settled against the plush leather seat of the rented car with a smile.

It had been six months since Rhys relocated to Myers Bluff. Things had been rough at first. Not only had Remington and Sebastian been trying to navigate the start of their relationship, they’d had to do it with boorish and arrogant Rhys St. George poking his nose in it all the time. But he’d settled, and they’d settled, and some of the things Rhys pushed had become normal in their new lives.

The chauffeured cars, for example.

Rhys, unlike Remington, liked his money. He thrived on life’s luxuries, and being driven around town was one of them. Remington had fought him at first, but Sebastian had begged him to give in just one thing, and the car had been the easiest one.

Rhys did have a point, at least about the gala.

“You’re sleeping with the man who has enough money to float your entire museum for the rest of his life if he wanted to. You cannot bring him to a celebratory event in a Honda,” Rhys had said.

Sebastian had choked on his drink and Remington had given in.