Mutual Possession (Nine Tenths of the Law #1)

23. Spencer

Chapter twenty-three

Spencer

I didn’t think there was anything better than eating pancakes in bed at two in the morning. I can safely say I was wrong. Sitting naked, with an ache in my ass that tells of time well spent, and eating pancakes in bed, is way better. Also, pancakes.

“I was sceptical when you put banana in these pancakes, but they’re fantastic,” I mumble around a mouthful. The melted chocolate and whipped cream drizzled over the top helps too. It’s like a banana-split pancake.

“They needed to be used up; you always forget you bought them.”

“That’s because you bought them.” I only like banana when it’s in something baked. Though I never thought to put them in pancakes. Does that count as being baked? I think they’re in that grey area.

“You’re incapable of shopping on your own. Do you remember what happened last time?”

“Five packets of family-sized Skittles aren’t too much.” I’ll die on that hill and then haunt it for eternity. And since Kendrick isn’t allowed to leave me, he’s also dying on that hill, whether he likes it or not. “There’s no limit to how many bags of Skittles a household can own.”

“The limit is one.”

“We can agree to disagree. And we should put Skittles on the shopping list on the fridge.” I lift a knee and rest my elbow on it, twisting over to cut off another piece of pancake with my fork. A little of the melted chocolate drips onto my thigh. Before I can do something about it, Kendrick leans forward and licks it off. His tongue flicks over my skin long after it’s clean. He can do it forever if he wants.

I scoop a little of the melted chocolate up on the tip of my finger and smear it over his nose. “Oops. Guess I better get that for you.”

Kendrick shoots me an amused look, but I’m too preoccupied with getting my tongue across the bridge of his nose, making sure to get all of the chocolate. I move down to his lips, and he parts for me, letting me in to play.

“I love you. And you make good pancakes.”

Kendrick chuckles and gives me one last kiss before pulling back and eating more of said pancakes. We’re sharing a plate between us and have made quick work of the stack he cooked.

We should have some at our wedding. Pancakes are allowed, right? It’s my wedding, so no one can tell me that I can’t.

“We should do it here,” I say abruptly. It’s a brilliant idea. Who needs fancy venues and all the other bullshit that goes with them? I don’t want to put on a show, I just want to get a ring on his finger so that if I’m not around, everyone knows that he’s taken, and they’ll have me to deal with if they even think of touching him. I don’t play nice, or fair.

Kendrick finishes chewing and licks his lips. “Do what here? Make pancakes? That seems like a fire hazard.”

“What? No.” How would we even do that? We could get one of those burner stoves. I’ve seen people use them in bed, I think. YouTube has a lot of wild rabbit holes.

“You’re thinking about it.”

Well, yeah, because he mentioned it. It would be remiss of me to not at least consider the possibilities. “We’ll come back to that.” It’s worth discussing further. “I mean that we should get married here.”

“In our bedroom.”

I shoot him a look. “The apartment.”

“There isn’t room here for that kind of event. Are we gonna do it in the hallway? The lounge?”

“We can move all the dining stuff out of the way, set something up. I don’t give a fuck, Ken. I don’t need anything fancy. Hell, I don’t even want it. I just want you.”

He trails the pads of his fingers down my cheek and then grips my chin just tight enough to send a shiver down my spine. I love when he handles me like he owns me.

“Alright,” he says quietly. “If that’s what you want.”

“Tomorrow?” I ask hopefully. Hell, fucking today would be fine. It can’t be that complicated, right?

He laughs low. “No, baby, not tomorrow. But soon, I promise.”

That’s good enough for me. “We can invite Mav, Trevor, and Abigail. And the team.”

Kendrick’s face hardens, and he sits back, like he doesn’t appreciate my guest list. Why not? He likes all those people. “Talk to me.” Something else has to be bothering him. Unless Abigail sent him a text to rile him up, which she does.

“Are we inviting Sebastian?” He says the name like it’s dirt under his boot. Seeing him getting all caveman on me is intensely satisfying, and I can’t help my smile.

“That depends,” I say, dragging it out.

“On what?”

“Are you inviting Henry?” He better fucking not be. It’s a special occasion for the two of us and the most important people in our life. The cop doesn’t make the cut. He’ll never make the cut, because Kendrick belongs to me.

Kendrick softens. “No, Spence. This is for us.”

“Then no, I’m not inviting Sebastian. Just family, and the team.” They’re family too. They’re all we have outside of each other, and I have no intention of expanding that circle. I like Sebastian, and I like the friendship that we have. It means nothing when I compare it to this man in front of me. I would forsake the entire world for him. Leave behind anyone and anything. All he has to do is ask.

“Who’ll do the whole”—I wave my hand around and almost knock the fork out of Kendrick’s hand—“thing.”

“The celebrant?” he asks, lips twitching. “I’m sure we can find one. Hunter knows a lot of people; I’ll ask him.”

“Didn’t one of Jericho’s people get married not that long ago?” I try to cast around in my brain for a name but come up blank. I’m sure he mentioned it.

Kendrick blinks. “I… don’t think any of his guys are married? Recently, or otherwise.”

“How would that even work if they wanted to? There are an uneven number of them. How would they choose? I never thought Jericho would get married. Though I never thought he’d settle down with anyone either.” Proof that miracles do happen.

“He never met anyone he wanted to with before. I think we’re getting off topic. Who got married?”

“His boyfriend Quinn’s partner, I think?” I vaguely mention Jericho talking about the ceremony. And something about ducks.

Kendrick bites his lip. “Do you mean Grady and Lake?”

“Right, yeah, them.”

“They’re engaged and planning their wedding right now; they aren’t married yet.”

Damn. Well, there goes that plan. Unless— “That means they’ll have hired one, though, in preparation. We could find out who they got?” Easier than bringing some random into our home. At least they could sort of be vouched for? We’d run some background checks on them too.

“We can ask Jericho tomorrow.”

Probably easier than hacking into phones and finding the information ourselves. Not as much fun, but speed is the priority here. “We need to get rings.” That one’s important. “Can I get ‘property of Spencer’ put on yours?”

“What about yours?”

“I think it would look weird if I had ‘property of Spencer’ on mine.”

Kendrick tugs a strand of my hair and stares at me with a look until I break.

“If I didn’t think you’d kill me, I’d have ‘property of Kendrick’ tattooed on my forehead,” I admit. It’s pretty much written on my chest—my itchy-as-fuck chest—so putting it elsewhere isn’t much more of a stretch. Less able to hide it, but whatever. There are foundations for that. I’ve seen videos.

“Let’s start with the rings,” he says, annoyingly diplomatic about it.

I can work with that. I finish the pancake I’m working on and slide another one across the plate so it soaks up more chocolate. We eat in silence for a few minutes, steadily making our way through the last few.

“I thought I’d feel different.”

Kendrick pauses, fork stabbed into the last pancake. “About what?”

“I don’t know. Us. Me. You took my gay virginity.”

Kendrick clears his throat, a smile flickering on his lips. “It doesn’t really work that way.”

“I had your dick in my ass, and you were my first, so I think it definitely works that way.” I steal his piece of pancake and shove it in my mouth before he can protest. “And I thought… I don’t know.” That it would be life-changing. Instead, it’s warm, and safe, and everything it was before we slept together. He’s still my everything, and it can’t be more, because it was already everything. There’s a comfort in that.

“You thought you’d want to write about it in your diary?”

“Fuck off, Ken.”

Kendrick chuckles. “You liked it, right?”

“I’m not answering that question just on principle.”

“That’s all it needs to be.”

Carefully putting the almost empty plate down on the bed—not that I really care if it gets toppled over; that’s what washing machines are for—I lift myself up onto my knees and cradle his face. “For someone who thrives in the shadows for a living, you’re a fucking sap.”

“Only for you.”

“Just proving my point.”

His lips soften under mine, and the taste of banana pancakes and chocolate mingles between us. His hand runs up my back until he grasps my nape, holding me in place. I moan and crawl into his lap, settling against him.

“Are you still hungry?” he asks.

Trailing my lips down his throat I nip at him, tasting salty sweetness. “Yeah, a little bit.”

Without letting go of me he reaches around and grabs the plate, bringing it closer. When he feeds me a piece, our eyes never stray from each other. I can feel him hardening under me, and I hesitate, lips parting, unsure what I want to say. Now that we’ve taken that step, I don’t know what we’re supposed to do now.

“Spence?”

“I just want—can we just be like this?” Guilt stirs in my gut. How do I explain that I want him exactly the way I did before, I just… like this part better? This connection, when it’s the two of us, this is where I come alive. The want that I feel isn’t always on the same level as his.

“Is there a reason you think we can’t be?”

“You’re hard.”

“You turn me on. Spence, you just have to look at me, and I get hard. It’s happened more than once, trust me. It’ll keep happening. That doesn’t mean we have to do anything. It’s a reaction that I have to you and nothing more. It’s not an obligation. I want you to invade my space in whatever way makes you feel comfortable. I just need you in reach, and mine.”

“I am yours.”

“Then I’m good. Better than good. Now shut up and eat your pancakes.”