31. Cereal and Eggs
31
CEREAL AND EGGS
Zane
The sun streams through the bedroom window in the morning warming my skin. I draw a deep inhale, catching the scent of ocean breeze on the pillow. When I open my eyes, the bed’s empty. The home is quiet. But I’m not worried.
This time, I know he’s coming back. Well, it’s his house. But still, I have faith in him, and in us.
I sigh happily, push up in bed, and grab my phone from the nightstand. Damn. It’s already eleven. I turn off do not disturb and text messages rain down.
My brother. Are you having Cinnamon Life cereal or eggs? I’m guessing both since you didn’t come back.
Then Gunnar. Lunch before BP? There’s a cool new spot by the ballpark. Trace wants to join.
Vance too. Can’t wait for the game! Don’t play too hard, buddy. Just remember no one tries in the All-Star Game.
He’s right, but taking it easy on the diamond is not a language I speak.
After a quick reply to my brother, I scroll past the others to the texts I want most.
Maddox: Hey, you. I’m going for a run. I know—you’re not surprised. Text me when you get this.
That was sent four hours ago. He’s so fucking cute. There’s another from three hours ago.
Maddox: I’m back. You should win an award for your sleeping prowess.
I smile, clicking to one sent two hours ago.
Maddox: I don’t have to go to the office today, but I couldn’t work in my home office either. Not sure I could focus after what we did there last night. But if you ever get your ass out of bed, you’ll find me working poolside. Don’t give me a hard time for working. I love work. But feel free to give me a hard time.
He sent one forty-five minutes ago too.
Maddox: I’m taking a scooter to Abbott Kinney to grab something for you to eat from a new organic food truck. Yes, I said scooter. Do not laugh.
Ah, hell. I can’t resist.
Zane: YOU HAVE A SCOOTER? That is so not what I pictured from you. I NEED TO KNOW EVERYTHING.
Setting the phone down, I get out of bed and pad to the bathroom. After I brush my teeth and take care of business, I return to his bedroom, swinging my gaze around in the bright light of day. Minimalist, like I predicted. White walls with a few photographs of cityscapes at night—London, Miami, New York, Tokyo, Barcelona.
I smile, tucking away this detail of the metropolitan man. He loves to travel. Does he know any other languages? There’s so much more I want to learn about him, and I finally have the chance. I find my boxer briefs on the floor, tug them on, then grab my phone and head into the hallway, then out to the living room.
There’s been no reply to my last text, but seconds later, the front door opens, and Maddox walks in, setting a helmet down on an entryway table. He’s wearing aviator shades, and carrying a backpack.
Slack-jawed, I stare at the man. I have so many questions. “Scooter. Backpack. Shorts. Who are you?”
After he shuts the door, he whips off the shades, looks me over, and heads straight to me, his lips a ruler, his eyes intense. He says nothing, just claims my mouth in a possessive kiss. My toes tingle. My knees wobble.
Dear God, this man owns my heart and body.
When he breaks the kiss, he says, “The scooter is because traffic sucks, and it’s better for the environment for short distances. It’s parked in my garage right now. No, I didn’t order delivery because that takes longer than it takes me on a scooter. And I wanted you to have something fresh to eat when you got up. I figured you couldn’t possibly sleep past eleven, and I was right. And yes, I have been to all the places on the wall in my bedroom.”
My smile reveals how ridiculously happy I am. “Thank you. I’m hungry.”
“I know,” he says.
Five minutes later, we’re sitting at the table by his pool, the sun reflecting off the water. I’m devouring the breakfast bowl he got for me—some acai thing with blueberries and papaya and all sorts of goodness. He ate earlier, while he worked.
I take the last bite, then moan in culinary pleasure. “Maddox, I have to tell you something.”
He leans back in the chair, looking cool and debonair in khaki shorts and a blue polo. His casual wear is so very him. But he seems relaxed too. I haven’t seen him that way before. I like it a lot.
“What do you want to tell me?” he asks.
“The herbed scallops from Ava’s were awful,” I admit, then frown.
He cracks up, but he doesn’t say I told you so, and I’m grateful for that. Instead, he says, “Want to go for a swim?”
“Fuck yes.”
He heads to the sliding glass door to go inside, but I don’t follow him. He shoots me a curious look.
I answer him by shimmying down my briefs. Starkers, I stroll along the pool deck, then jump into the deep end.
When I pop up, sliding a hand across my hair, he’s rolling his eyes.
“Do it,” I shout. “I know you’re not a skinny dipper, but just do it. Fucking do it,” I say, splashing in his direction as he strides to where I’m treading water.
Shaking his head in amusement, he asks, “How did you know I’m not a skinny dipper?”
I look up at him and shrug happily. “Same way I knew about the oat milk. C’mon. The water’s nice. You know you want to.”
He tugs at the hem of his shirt, then strips it from his body in one studly move. Oh, yeah.
I catcall, hooting. “Take it all off.”
With a smirk, he plays with the button on his shorts, teasing me, taunting me with a subtle shake of his hips.
“That’s right. Give me the full monty, handsome.”
Seconds later, he’s dropping his drawers. And I stop laughing. I’m catching my breath. My guy is such a stunner. All that smooth skin, and carved muscles, and big dick swinging free as he dives into the water, past me.
He glides underwater, in the buff, his lean frame cutting through the blue till he surfaces near the yellow raft in the shallow end. He hauls himself onto it—elegantly.
“Only you can get on a raft like James Bond,” I say, then freestyle over to him and park my elbows on the end of the raft, bobbing along with him near the edge. “I like your pool.”
“I like you in it,” he says, then shifts gears. “Are Gage and Eliza in town?”
I smile. “They are. They’re coming to batting practice and the game. Should be fun. It’s my first All-Star Game.”
He laughs, then says, “I know.” Then his expression turns serious. “I want to meet them. Take you all out.”
I tense, but I’m not worried for me. I’m worried for him. We haven’t discussed how this whole thing between us is going to work. He’s the one who faces the bigger risk, so I’ve been waiting for him to tell me. I’m on the other side of my first big deal with a sponsor. I’ve got Eliza’s college fund set up. I want to support him as he navigates what’s next. And now’s as good a time as any to figure it out. “I want that,” I say seriously, stretching a hand toward him, rubbing his calf. “So badly. But how is this going to work?”
I don’t say it, but he knows what I’m asking— when can we be seen together ?
Maddox scrubs a hand across his jaw. “This is what I’m thinking…”
I listen as he tells me his plan. The timing. What he envisions. And when he’s done, there’s only one thing for me to do. My heart is galloping, and all I want is to get closer to him. I move around the raft so our faces are a foot apart. My throat tightens with emotions. They rise up in me, eager to break free. “I love you,” I say, and my heart flies into his hands.
I’ve never said that to any man. I’ve never felt this way for anyone. He reaches for me, and we link our fingers together, squeezing tightly as he meets my gaze, joy sparking in his eyes.
“I love you, Zane Archer. So much.”
I lean over the raft, and I kiss him deeply under the rising sun, floating on the water. I kiss him for a good long time, savoring this new kind of first kiss.
All this kissing gives me ideas. So I move to the bottom of the raft, tug on his legs. “C’mere.”
“Are you going to…?”
“I am.” Then when his legs are dangling in the water, I settle my face between his thighs and drag my tongue along his hardening shaft. “Mmm. You’ll be a skinny-dipping lover in no time,” I murmur.
“Seems I already am with you,” he says, then wraps his hands through my hair. “Suck me off, Zane.”
I look up, meet his whiskey eyes. “I’ve got you, handsome. I’ve always got you.”
He closes his eyes, relaxing into my carnal attention, deserving it, delighting in it. I lick up and down his gorgeous shaft, savoring every second of touching him. Drawing him deep, I use my hand to twist around his base, building up friction as I suck.
Soon, he’s panting, grabbing my head harder. “Fuck, Zane. Yes. That’s so fucking good.”
His praise lights me up. I suck deeper, driving him wilder. He thrusts in my mouth, and this is not easy. Giving head to a man like Maddox takes a whole new set of skills.
I intend to master them all.
For now, my hand and my mouth and my desire are all I need. I deep-throat him. Don’t care if my voice will be shot at the game. He’s worth it. He fucks my mouth, and I ravenously devour his cock till he’s calling my name and shooting down my throat. I groan as I taste his release for the first time.
When I let go, I indulge in the sight before me—this blissed-out man, lounging on his yellow raft, enjoying all the rewards of falling in love.
Twenty minutes and a quick shower hand job later—courtesy of Maddox LeGrande’s talented fist—and I’m ready to take off for work. In his bedroom, I get dressed. Wearing last night’s clothes, I head to the bathroom to say goodbye to my man. I stop short when I see him standing in front of the mirror, concentrating, a towel slung low on his trim waist. He’s shaving, sliding the blade over his chiseled jaw.
“Hot. Just seriously fucking hot,” I say, coming up behind him. “Like a fantasy.”
He meets my gaze in the mirror, a sly smile curving his lips as he says, “I had this fantasy the day I saw you in Venice.”
Then he tells me he wanted this moment exactly and I smile. “I had the same fantasy in New York, Mad.”
All I want is to make his dreams come true. All of them. The bedroom ones, the romance ones, the heart ones.
But also the work ones, and I know how to do just that. When I reach the ballpark, I get started.