Page 8 of Hot Chicken (Sunday Brothers #6)
CHAPTER FOUR
GAGE
I found myself, sometime later that day, on the living room sofa, as late-afternoon sunlight streamed in the back window and Knox’s arms were wrapped around me.
Ordinarily, this would be a good thing. The best thing.
Who the fuck didn’t love sunshine? What dumbass would complain that the guy who’d starred in his lumberjack fantasies since long before they’d gotten together was sprawled on top of him?
And who didn’t want to be lying down, especially when they’d spent the whole night tossing in bed, and then had not one but two very athletic rounds of makeup sex with the man they loved?
Unfortunately, though, certain things about this setup were less than ideal.
For one thing, the sunshine had turned the living room into a furnace, and my whole body was glistening despite the fan perched on the coffee table blowing directly at us.
For another, a man with Knox’s lumberjacky build was meant to be a mattress, not a weighted blanket. And for a third…
“This sofa is fucking killing me,” I whimpered .
My human blanket chuckled and squirmed like he was getting more comfortable. “Funny, I was thinking it’s actually much comfier now than it was last night.” Knox kissed my bare shoulder. “Not sure why that might be.”
I snorted and pushed at his chest. “Up, you behemoth. It’s going to take me seventy-two hours to fully inflate after having you flatten me.”
“Aw. Does that mean no round three?” he teased.
He rolled his hips, pushing our dicks together through the shorts we’d each thrown on after showering and, ah… finishing our other extracurricular shower activities. But when I felt the steel pipe in his pants, suddenly, I wondered if he was teasing.
“Wait, again? Oh, fuck,” I said, arching into him. The stretch made my overused muscles ache in the best way.
“You’re so easy, Goodman.” Laughing triumphantly, Knox pushed himself up and flopped onto his side, squeezing his bulk between me and the back of the sofa, with his chest to my back and his arms around me.
Pretty soon, his breathing evened out like he’d fallen asleep.
I smiled. I was perhaps one degree Fahrenheit cooler in this position since one of Knox’s long legs was still thrown over mine and his face was buried in my neck, but I didn’t protest. In fact, I folded my arms over his arms to lock them in place because the past twenty-four hours had been a bit… well, unsettling.
Enough to make a guy justifiably clingy.
To be perfectly clear, when I’d seen that job offer email yesterday, I hadn’t freaked out because I’d thought Knox would fuck off to Boston alone or force me to move either.
My man wasn’t just gorgeous, intelligent, invariably grumpy, and shockingly witty; he was also loyal as fuck.
Specifically, loyal to me and my happiness.
More than that, he was in love with me and didn’t hesitate to show it .
We hadn’t talked about marriage recently, but… who cared, really? Rings and certificates and ceremonies weren’t a big deal when we were already each other’s best friend and emergency contact and when both of our names were on the deed to our house.
Besides, I wasn’t with Knox so I could have a wedding or a ring on my finger or any of that stuff. I was with Knox because I wanted to be with Knox, period. Saying I do in front of our friends and neighbors wouldn’t change that one way or another.
In fact, if I’d ever stopped to think about it—and I hadn’t—I’d have wanted us to keep doing what we’d been doing for the rest of our lives, albeit with a few more wrinkles and possibly some more nieces or nephews, if Webb and Luke ever stopped talking about it and got down to the business of giving Aiden siblings.
I mean, what more could a guy ask for, really?
I loved Little Pippin Hollow. I loved big family dinners with the Sundays, which rotated each week from house to house (or sometimes house to restaurant, when it was Jack and Hawk’s turn to host).
Loved bitching with Helena Fortnum about the flatlander invasion every autumn, now that I was a local.
Loved that I got to witness Aiden morphing from a cute little boy into a scary-smart preteen attitude-monster who rolled his eyes at his dads but thought his Uncle Gage was hot shit.
Loved visiting Luke’s classroom of second graders to do computer classes each week and watching their skills improve.
Loved that Knox made me coffee every morning using the fancy beast of an espresso machine we’d bought as a joint second anniversary present and which he’d promptly forbidden me to use because “All heroes need an Achilles’ heel, Goodman, and the inability to brew drinkable espresso is yours.”
Loved that we’d gotten into a routine of spending two weeks with my family in Whispering Key every January for “Second Christmas” and that Knox, who hated beaches, heat, and people in general, seemed to actually enjoy my dad’s treasure-hunting stories and my brothers’ teasing.
But when I’d spotted that email in Knox’s inbox…
well, it had made me wonder, you know? Like, how much of that life I loved was the future Knox wanted?
He’d never said differently, sure… but I’d also never asked.
And while I knew his happiness wasn’t my responsibility, it was my priority because wanting the best for your partner was the gift-with-purchase that got dropped in your shopping cart when you fell in love.
So… what if he was prioritizing my happiness at the expense of his own?
Valid questions, maybe, but I was a little annoyed at myself for the way I’d reacted. After four years together, I knew that what made our relationship work wasn’t some magical “happily ever after” juju but the fact that Knox and I were committed to making it work.
Falling in love with each other had been so easy as to seem inevitable, but being good partners to each other? That was a fuck of a lot trickier, especially since one of us was so cheerful he tended to repress things, and the other had anxiety that manifested as grumpiness.
TL;DR, I knew better than to take good communication for granted… and I’d still fucked up. It was a good lesson, I supposed, not to get complacent or take things for granted.
And to be honest, I couldn’t be too upset at my overreaction… because Christ, that had been some amazing makeup sex.
Like, top-three-moments-to-replay-at-the-end-of-my-life sex .
And, cards on the table, I had a lot of sex to compare it to because Knox and I had a lot of sex.
As in… daily. Usually double-daily.
In all manner of positions, all over our house, and occasionally at other people’s houses… or more specifically, in their orchards.
Once on a Whispering Key sand dune (ten out of ten for ambiance, zero out of ten for practicality because sand is fucking insidious).
Once in the back of a pickup truck at a campsite when visiting Knox’s brother in western New York (seven out of ten for novelty, three out of ten for postcoital cuddles).
All of which was to say, I was a well-satisfied individual…
And still, I was fairly sure I’d been a virgin until this morning because that was how leveled-up our against-the-wall sex was.
I loved the rare moments when Knox lost a little bit of that urbane polish and got all growly, rough, and claim-y, but I’d never felt as thoroughly claimed as I had today.
I sighed happily.
Knox’s fingers traced lacy patterns across my chest. “You’re thinking awfully hard over there, Goodman.” His voice was rough. “Pretty sure overthinking’s my job in this partnership.”
I snorted. “Not when I’m thinking about how well you fuck me,” I retorted. “See, it’d be low-key arrogant if you were thinking about that.” I glanced over my shoulder and caught Knox’s green eyes. “Possibly even… dickish.”
Knox chuckled, the vibration sending a bolt of heat straight to my cock. “Is it arrogance, though, if it’s justified?” he mused.
“Obviousl—ohhh.” Knox’s hand clenched around my length, and the breath punched out of me. “Mmmpfh.”
“Uh-huh. You know what I think? I think you like me dickish, Goodman. In fact, I think it’s one of your favorite things about me,” Knox whispered. His breath teased over my ear, and just like that, my whole body was on fire… again.
I would have blamed Hawk’s sex rooster, but I knew better. This was all down to Knox Sunday, who’d lit me up this way for literal years.
“Would you like to know what I like best about you?” Knox’s voice was rough, intimate in a way that made my heart skip.
“M-my devastating… wit?” I tried to sound casual, but the way his sure, knowing fingers stroked me kind of ruined the effect.
“That, too. But right now, I’m thinking about how you always surprise me.” The fingers of his free hand found my nipple and circled it slowly. “Four years in, I sometimes still can’t predict what you’re going to say or do next. I fucking love that.”
The simple words hit me hard. Knox was usually an acts-of-service guy more than a flowery-declarations guy, and when he changed it up like this, it killed me.
“Yeah?” I whispered. “Well, that’s…” I swallowed. “That’s…”
I couldn’t complete the sentence. My brain cells were too busy cataloguing all the places we touched—Knox’s scent in my nose, his arms caging me tight. His chest hair rasping against my back, his thick thigh wedged between mine. His hardening cock dragging over my ass, his fingers driving me crazy.
“And I love how responsive you are.” His mouth found the sensitive spot behind my ear while his fingers pinched my nipple tight.
I let out a shuddering breath. My body was lighting up like a Christmas tree… as though Christmas hadn’t already come twice today.
“I love how open you are with your emotions. How I never have to guess where I stand with you. You gave me your heart, Gage Goodman, and you’ve never once tried to take it back.”