Page 128 of A Cold Hard Truth

Remington set his hand on the seat between them, palm up, and Sebastian tangled their fingers together.

“You sound like your brother,” Remington said.

“I can’t help how I was raised.”

“I don’t want you to. I love you the way you are, remember that.” Remington raised their joined hands to his mouth and kissed Sebastian’s knuckles. “Your brother offends me more than not, though.”

Sebastian laughed, his shoulders relaxing against the seat. “He offends everyone. And you offend him.”

“How?” Remington balked.

“All this money tied to the Dockery name and you live like you’re as poor as Jace.”

“Jace is going to be a McMillian soon,” he said.

“Fair point.” Sebastian smiled. “But you know what I meant.”

“Everything in my life has felt like chance,” Remington explained. “Like all the things that happened to me weren’t in my control. And they all happened because of my name, because of my money. When I graduated college, I needed to take control of my life. The only way I knew how to do that was to separate my life from what I felt controlled it.”

“That’s admirable, but not practical.”

“It worked,” he said. “It got me to Myers Bluff. And it got me you.”

“I’m still not sure that last one is a win.” Sebastian turned his head away, giving the outside more attention than Remington.

“It’s more than a win. It’s everything.” He squeezed Sebastian’s hand until he looked back at him over his shoulder. “You are everything.”

“I’m a mess.”

“And you’re mine.”

“I still drink too much,” Sebastian countered.

“You drink as much as I allow.”

Sebastian let out a shuddering breath, his eyes closing in a slow and heavy blink.

“You come as much as I allow,” Remington continued, pulling Sebastian across the back seat until he could taste his breath. “Everything you do is because I allow it. Isn’t that right?”

“Rem…” Sebastian exhaled his name. “You said I had to be good. You’re making it so hard to be good.”

“I know,” he whispered. “The truth is, I get hard watching you work for it.”

“What?”

“When you try so hard to please me, Sebastian.” Remington closed his eyes and kissed his way around Sebastian’s clean-shaven jawline. “It makes me want to be a better man for you.”

The car rolled to a stop and Sebastian groaned so hard, Remington felt it in his bones. He laughed, reaching around and patting his hand over the fly of Sebastian’s pants. Sebastian set to righting himself, again, muttering under his breath the whole time. Their driver opened the door, and Sebastian exited the car first, with Remington close behind.

As always.

“You couldn’t, though,” Sebastian said, taking his hand and waiting for him to lead.

“Couldn’t what?”

“Be a better man.”

Remington’s mouth twitched into a smile, and he held open the door of the museum for Sebastian. The place looked completely different than it did in the daytime. The guests milled around the main floor in elegant gowns and well-pressed suits and tuxedos. Champagne glasses clinked and casual conversation overlaid the string quartet playing in the background.