Page 31

Chapter thirty-one

Elliot

I was wrecked.

Between the fourteen-hour days in Florida, the long drive back, and now sitting in Mrs. H’s kitchen with a full stomach, my body was done. I could feel the exhaustion sinking into my bones, weighing me down like I was made of lead.

The last bite of clootie dumpling sat half eaten on my plate, but I didn’t have it in me to finish it. I’d never had suet in a dessert before, and while it wasn’t bad, it was definitely . . . different.

Across the table, Mike and Mrs. H were chatting away about something—more about his newfound desire to learn how to cook—but I only caught about half of it before my eyelids got too heavy.

“Lord, look at you,” Mrs. H said suddenly, her sharp eyes landing on me. “Hot as fuck but absolutely useless. I’ve seen newborn lambs with more strength in their legs than you’ve got right now.”

I blinked slowly. “I’m fine.”

She snorted. “Lad, you’re about two seconds from snoring into your plate. Go home. Take your boy with you and let him tuck you in nice and proper . . . or do you do the tucking in this relationship? I’ve never understood how you gays choose who gets pounded.”

Mike cleared his throat. “Mrs. H—”

“Oh, don’t even pretend, lad,” she interrupted, waving her spoon at him. “I know exactly what you’re about to do the second you get him behind closed doors. I might be a little rusty on the mechanics, but I get the picture.”

My brain was too slow to catch up, but Mike groaned and buried his face in his hands. “You have to stop saying things like that.”

“No, I don’t.” She grinned. “I’m old. I can say whatever the fuck I want.”

I smirked at Mike, too tired to really tease him but enjoying the way his face turned red. “She’s got a point. You are taking me home.”

“That’s the spirit, lad! Good man.” Mrs. H cackled. “Doesn’t take much energy to shove it in. You should be fine.”

Mike shoved his chair back. “All right, that’s it. We’re leaving before she gets worse.”

“Too late,” I muttered, standing up.

Mike was already helping me out of the chair like I was some fragile thing, which was ridiculous. I was exhausted, sure, but I wasn’t about to collapse in the middle of Mrs. H’s kitchen.

“Take care of him, lad,” she said to Mike, patting his arm as we made our way toward the door. “And don’t let him fool you—he likes being babied more than he lets on.”

Mike grinned, giving me a side glance. “Oh, I know.”

I glared at both of them. “I hate you both.”

Mrs. H smirked. “No, you don’t.”

And with that, she all but shoved us out the door, cackling like a damn cartoon villain about to tie a girl to a train track.

The night air was cool against my sunburned skin, the quiet hum of the cicadas filling the silence as we walked down the path toward my house. The tire swing at the house next door swung lazily, the limb groaning in protest each time it drifted one direction then the other.

“You realize she’s never gonna stop, right?” Mike said.

I huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, but I think you secretly like it.”

He scoffed. “You think I like getting grilled about my sex life by an elderly Scottish woman who feeds us unidentifiable food—if you can even call it that? Yeah, that’s exactly what I’ve always wanted.”

I nudged him lightly with my shoulder. “She does have a point, though.”

Mike arched a brow. “About what?”

I gave him a lazy grin. “You’re still taking me home.”

He let out a low groan, shaking his head. “Christ. You really are exhausted if that’s your level of flirting.”

“Yeah, well,” I muttered, rubbing a hand over my face. “Give me a few hours of sleep and we’ll see how I do.”

Mike hummed but didn’t argue. Instead, he slipped his hand into mine, fingers curling tight as we made our way down the quiet street.

It was stupid how much that simple touch calmed me.

By the time we reached my house, I was already half asleep on my feet. I barely had the energy to unlock the door, and when I finally managed it, I turned to Mike, fully expecting him to head home.

Instead, he just stared at me, hesitating.

“You wanna stay?” I asked.

Mike blinked, like I’d just caught him off guard. “I mean—”

“Even if we just sleep,” I added, rubbing the back of my neck. “Even if we just . . . hold each other.”

The words felt dangerous, like I was saying too much. Like I was asking for too much.

Mike’s face softened as something warm flickered behind his eyes.

“Yeah,” he murmured.

My chest squeezed.

I led us inside, dropped my bag by the laundry room door, then swallowed hard and nodded toward the bathroom. “I need to wash Florida off my body. I probably smell like a swamp.”

Mike smirked. “More like an alligator’s ass.”

“Sexy,” I muttered.

“You wish.”

I rolled my eyes, stripping off my shirt as I walked down the hall, not even thinking about how I was stripping in front of Mike—and it wasn’t sexual.

I was just about to step into the bathroom when I heard Mike follow.

When I turned, he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his gaze running over me in a way that made my skin burn from a lot more than sunburn.

“You joining me or just here to watch?” I teased.

His smile was slow and lazy, his eyes darkening. “That depends. How awake are you?”

I exhaled sharply. “Awake enough to let you scrub my back.”

Mike didn’t hesitate.

He reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it to the side before stepping forward, closing the distance between us.

His hands landed on my hips, fingers pressing into my skin just enough to send a sharp thrill through me. My own hands came up instinctively, sliding over his bare chest, tangling in his fur, tracing the warmth of him, the softness of his skin stretched over tight muscle.

“Shower,” he murmured, pressing a quick, teasing kiss to the corner of my mouth. “Before Mrs. H shows up and ruins the mood.”

I snorted. “She’s probably staring in the den window. She might even have cameras in here somewhere.”

“That’s a comforting thought.” He chuckled. “Now get in before I freeze to death. Your house is like ice.”

I grinned but did as he said, turning the water on and stepping inside. The heat was instant, washing away the grime and exhaustion from the past two weeks.

And then Mike joined me.

Steam curled around us as he stepped in, and for a second, we just looked at each other.

Then, as though something snapped, we moved.

He pressed me against the tiled wall, his mouth claiming mine in a kiss filled with weeks of worry, longing, and pent-up desire.

I groaned into him, my fingers threading through his damp hair, pulling him closer as the water ran over us, turning everything slick and soft.

Mike pressed closer, his hands roaming, his breath hitching against my lips as I bit at his lower lip, sucking it into my mouth before releasing it with a soft pop.

He let out a low, needy sound that sent a bolt of heat straight to my gut.

“Jesus,” he muttered, pressing his forehead against mine while gripping my shaft, already throbbing and thick. “You’re supposed to be exhausted.”

I grinned, sliding my hands down his back. “Guess you’re waking me up.”

Mike huffed out a laugh, then kissed me again—slower this time, like he wanted to take his time.

Mike’s mouth was hot against mine, and I couldn’t get enough of it.

The steam curled around us, thick and cloying, and the water sluiced over our skin, making every inch of him impossibly slick beneath my touch. I wasn’t sure if it was the exhaustion, the overwhelming sense of home I felt now that I was finally back, or just him—but everything about this moment felt perfect.

Like I was supposed to be here. Like he was supposed to be mine.

Mike’s hands slid over my chest, fingertips tracing the muscles there, as if memorizing me. He pressed forward, and my back hit the cool tile, a contrast to the water and heat building between us. I let out a sharp breath as his lips moved down my throat, teeth grazing the skin just enough to send a shiver through me.

“Mike . . .” My voice was rough, hoarse with want.

He hummed against my collarbone, his tongue flicking out to taste the water beading there. “Mm?”

I swallowed hard, gripping his hips and pulling him closer. His body pressed against mine, chest to chest, thigh against thigh, and fuck, it was like he was everywhere.

I couldn’t stop touching him.

His skin was warm, and beneath my hands, I could feel the way his breath stuttered when I dragged my fingers down his spine.

“You awake enough for this?” he murmured against my jaw, teasing, his breath hot against my skin.

I let out a breathless laugh. “You’re literally feeling the answer to that question.”

Mike grinned against my throat before biting down lightly, just enough to make me groan. “Just making sure.”

His hands slipped around behind, gripping my ass as he pressed his body against mine, his thigh nudging between mine, teasing.

I sucked in a sharp breath, my hands tightening in his hair. “Jesus Christ, Mike.”

He pulled back slightly, eyes dark and hungry as he met my gaze. “Tell me what you want.”

My chest tightened. Not just with arousal, but with something deeper, something dangerous.

Because the real answer?

I wanted all of him.

But I wasn’t ready to say that.

So instead, I reached between us, wrapped my hand around him, and watched as his head tipped back, his breath hitching, his fingers digging into my shoulders.

“That answer your question?” I rasped.

Mike let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, I think it does.”

And then there was no more teasing.

His mouth crashed into mine, and everything turned desperate. His hands were everywhere, sliding over wet skin, gripping, kneading, stroking. The shower was too small, the space between us too tight, and yet it still wasn’t enough.

He lifted one of my legs, bracing it around his hip, and I shuddered as he rolled his hips forward, grinding against me, the friction sending sparks up my spine.

“Fuck, Mike.”

He bit his lip, his hands tightening on me. “Yeah?”

I nodded, breathless.

And then he reached between us, wrapped his fingers around both of us together, and my head hit the tile with a dull thud as my eyes slammed shut.

“Jesus—”

“Just let go,” he murmured, his voice wrecked, his breath coming fast. “I’ve got you.”

And I did.

I let myself feel it.

The heat, the weight of him against me, the steady, perfect rhythm of his hand. The way his lips pressed against my throat, murmuring my name like it meant something.

I wasn’t sure if I came first or if he did. It didn’t matter.