Page 27 of A Matter of Fact

“Uhm. Just…we can get breakfast if you want. Or brunch,” Sebastian said.

“Are you blushing, brother?”

“Do you want to or not?”

“Yes,” he conceded. “I do. Just not the place from last time.”

Rhys didn’t know much, but he knew he didn’t want to plan a date for Beckett in front of Beckett. And he didn’t want to look desperate, showing up there for a meal unannounced. It was weird. He felt weird about it. He felt weird about everything.

“That’s our favorite spot,” Sebastian pouted, and Rhys fought back a surge of…some feeling he couldn’t identify.

“Do you go there often?”

“Every Sunday. The four of us…” Sebastian stopped speaking so abruptly, Rhys checked the screen to make sure the call hadn’t disconnected.

“And I’ve thrown a wrench into that now,” he surmised.

“No. Not at all. Things change. It’s evolution.”

“I highly doubt your best friend would agree that my inclusion is a step forward in anything,” Rhys said.

Sebastian sighed. “He’ll come around.”

“I wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t.”

“Have you spoken with him since the ribbon cutting?” Sebastian asked.

Rhys thought back to the terse phone call. “Barely. No.”

“Right. Not surprising and probably for the better. I know another place we can go. Do you want to pick me up in an hour?”

Rhys appreciated the swiftness with which his brother changed the topic. “An hour or so. I need to shower.”

“You’re not up yet?” Sebastian sounded shocked.

Rhys smoothed his hand over the sheets and let out a soft breath. “No.”

“Wow. Very unlike you.”

“And very unlikeyouto be ready to go this early on a Friday,” he said.

“It’s after eight.”

“Exactly.” Rhys scooted into a sitting position and shoved the sheets down to his waist. “I’ll see in you in an hour.”

“Sounds good.”

Rhys ended the call and kicked the sheets the rest of the way down. He’d slept in nothing more than a pair of loose fitting blue-striped pajama bottoms, and he wiggled them off as well. He was hard, but he ignored it. With a tight frown, he shuffled into the bathroom and turned on the shower. The water was warm, and he tipped his head back, letting the drops sluice down his face and throat. Against his lips, it reminded him of Beckett’s kiss, and he had no choice but to touch his cock.

At least, that was the lie he told himself.

Rhys’s eyes fluttered closed and he thought about the way Beckett’s erection had pressed against his hip when they kissed. He reached up and traced the sharp line of his cheekbone, recalling the soft way Beckett had touched his face. With his shoulders pressed against the door and Rhys’s hand against the small of his back…Rhys’s body trembled and he braced himself against the wall of the shower.

All the while, his other hand worked diligently and dutifully between his legs. The orgasm was empty when he came. Splattering against the wall of the shower, his brain filled with the knowledge of how lackluster and disappointing it was. Even the memory of Beckett’s body and mouth hadn’t been enough to make it feel like something more.

Rhys washed and rinsed himself, then turned off the water and wrapped a towel around his waist. Back in the bedroom, he picked out a casual outfit—khakis and a button up. He fussed over the way his belt set over the button of his pants, finally giving up and picking a different belt altogether. Rhys took his phone and his money clip, rolled up the cuffs of his shirt, and then called Gene to come pick him up.

They stopped at Remington’s apartment, picked up Sebastian, and then Rhys settled back while Sebastian told Gene where to go.