Chapter Four
SULLY
Dinner was brutal, but only because I so badly wanted to sit beside Tate.
I wanted to hold his hand as he laughed at whatever Olivia was telling him.
I wanted to rest my palm over his thigh as he ate dessert, a little of the creme brulee getting stuck on his plush top lip.
I wanted to lean over and whisper something sweet to him, making that beautiful crimson blush bloom across his cheeks, just over his beard.
But I didn’t.
I stayed at my end of the table like a good boy.
Our eyes caught across the table a few times, and it felt like magic in its truest form.
Does this make sense? No, not at all. But I’m starting to worry about the day after the wedding when we all go home.
How am I supposed to experience this feeling for the first time and just let it go? Just let Tate go?
The hallway is lit only in moonlight by the time I work up the nerve to sneak over to Tate’s room.
The door opens the moment my fist makes contact with the wood, and I’m quickly yanked inside before a mouth covers mine.
I wrap my arms around Tate’s waist and pull him close until he’s standing on his tiptoes to reach me.
He still tastes like dessert, like creme brulee with a hint of coffee.
Blackness surrounds us as we make our way toward the bed.
Only the sound of the night buzzes through the slightly open balcony window of Tate’s room.
He falls to the bed with an oof and I fall after him, bracketing his head with my forearms. Tate grins up at me, sending my tender heart skyrocketing in my chest.
“Hi,” Tate whispers.
“Hi,” I echo.
Tate gently scratches the hairs at the back of my head. “I missed you.”
“Yeah?”
Tate nods before leaning up to take my mouth in a soft, searching kiss. I press him down into the bed. His knees frame my hips as he wraps his legs around my thighs. He’s the perfect size to feel slightly small beneath my large frame.
“Can you take your shirt off?” Tate whispers against my mouth.
I shift slightly to yank my shirt off, then stare at him in the dark. “You too.”
Tate hesitates momentarily before shrugging and leaning up to take off his shirt.
I saw him earlier at the springs, and I still think he’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.
A slight dusting of hair over his pecs, trailing down to disappear beneath his waistband.
Slightly soft stomach, but wiry, and my mouth goes dry just at the idea of our skin touching.
I lean back down to kiss him again, licking into his mouth until he’s moaning from the pit of his stomach.
I might be bigger, but Tate is strong, and he proves it by pushing me until I’m flat on my back on the bed, and straddles my hips. Tate leans down until I can see his face clearly and feel the ghosting of his breath over my wet lips.
“Can I suck you?”
Oh god. I squeeze my eyes shut briefly, then open them back up to nod at him. “Yeah, but I don’t want to come that way. I want to come with your cock against mine. Okay?”
Tate smiles down at me, some odd expression on his face that I don’t yet have the intel to understand. “When was the last time you were tested?”
Ah. So we’re doing that. “Probably a year or so ago. I haven’t been with anyone in… a while.”
Tate’s eyes narrow, his fingers tenderly brushing against my forehead. “What’s a while?”
I swallow roughly. “A few years.”
“Oh, Sully,” Tate says, voice tender and soft. He swoops down to kiss me softly, plush lips and a few murmured words I don’t catch. When he pulls away, I grip his hips tightly so he doesn’t leave me yet. “Can I take care of you?”
“I want to take care of you too.”
Tate’s eyes sparkle in the dark. “You will, after I show you some attention. Can I suck you off for a while? Make you feel good?”
I nod because words have suddenly fled my entire being.
Tate kisses me once more, soft and slow, with an edge of desperation behind the glide of his lips.
His lips trail fire in their wake as he kisses down my chest, paying close attention to the dips of my ribs and the soft layers of fat on my belly.
God. When Tate kisses just below my belly button, I suck in a deep breath, and Tate grins wickedly up at me.
“Let me make you feel good,” Tate orders softly as he tugs my pants down.
I toss my forearm over my eyes to blot out the sight of him.
If I look for too long, I might come before he even gets a chance to put his mouth on me.
Okay, I can do this. Tangling my fingers in the down blanket beneath me, I wait for him to tug off my boxers, but he doesn’t.
Tate instead buries his face in my groin, inhaling deeply before mouthing at my cock.
Christ. Slowly, I pull my forearm away to glance down at him.
Every molecule of my body catches on fire when Tate gently kisses the tip of my cock through my underwear.
His fingers sift through the fine hairs on my thighs, petting me, making me feel more wanted than I ever have in my entire life.
This man wants me. He wants me. I don’t think this is supposed to be as emotional as it is, but I can’t seem to stop the tide.
I reach out, wiggling my fingers silently and asking Tate to give me his hand.
Tate tugs down my underwear, then tangles his fingers with mine.
Tate wastes no time.
The first touch of his lips to my bare cock has me squeezing my eyes shut in sweet ecstasy. God, his mouth is so warm. His free hand pins my hip down as he takes my cock all the way into his mouth.
“Tate, oh God,” I gasp out.
Tate squeezes my fingers as if to say I know, it’s okay.
His other hand trails over my thigh, up my chest, touching every patch of skin he can find while his mouth continues to take me apart.
When the head of my cock touches the back of his throat, I have to bite my lip to stop from crying out. He swallows around me, and I’m gone.
“No, I’ll come!” I whisper furiously.
Tate pulls off with a loud inhale. “No, I want to come together.”
I let go of his hand, grab his shoulders, and tug him up. “Get up here, then. I wanna see you come, wanna make you feel good.”
“You are making me feel good,” Tate says, voice husky as he rocks his hips against mine. I hurriedly push his pants down until he’s naked and pressed against me.
“Lube,” I say against his mouth.
Tate chuckles and buries his hand under his pillow for a second, returning with a bottle of lube and a triumphant grin.
Tangling my fingers in his hair, I tug him down to kiss him, just needing to taste that damn grin.
His smile tastes like heaven on earth. Tate somehow manages to get lube into his hand one-handed and wraps his palm around both of our cocks. Fuck.
I pull away from his mouth to glance between our bodies.
“Christ.”
Tate presses his forehead to mine. “Be with me. Okay?”
“Yeah,” I whisper.
Tate braces himself with one arm beside my head as he fucks into his hand, causing our cocks to slide together.
Our breaths mingle together between us as Tate basically fucks me.
I feel him everywhere: around me, over me, inside me.
My emotions must show on my face because Tate dips down to kiss me, tongue tentatively tangling with mine.
The kiss is soft when his hips snap hard to make my eyes roll back into my head.
“Watch me,” Tate orders breathlessly.
I blink my eyes open to stare into his blown with desire eyes.
The dark surrounding us feels like shelter now, so Tate can’t see through to the very core of me.
Tate’s breaths speed up, his hips snapping harder, and I can feel his cock grow impossibly harder against mine.
When his breaths catch, and he comes all over my chest, my orgasm explodes out of me.
Our cum mixes together on my stomach when Tate collapses in an exhausted heap against me.
I curl my arms around him, holding on tight, too fraught with emotion to utter a word. But Tate can still speak; I’ll never understand how, though.
“It’s never been like that before,” Tate admits, sounding drowsy.
I close my eyes tight as I press a gentle kiss to his forehead.
No, it’s never been like that for me either.
We’re in uncharted waters. Very dangerous territory.
But I don’t know how to stop it, and I’m not quite willing to.
Whatever happens from here on out, we’ll have to suffer bruised hearts if necessary.
“Stay with me,” Tate murmurs as he falls sound asleep on my chest. We’ll be sticky and gross in the morning, but I don’t care.
Not one ounce. All that matters is that Tate is asleep in my arms, and for one brief second, it feels like my universe rotates around something with purpose.
It takes me a long time to fall asleep, even with Tate sound asleep against me.
When I do finally drift off, it’s to the whispered thought that I wish time would freeze, caught in a snow globe to relive for eternity.
“Ugh.”
I blink my eyes open to the stark light of sunrise.
Tate’s wrinkled nose is the first thing I see, and I can’t help but chuckle.
His eyes lift to mine, and that gorgeous flush fills his cheeks as his gaze flits away from mine.
As if he’s embarrassed. I can’t have that.
No, we’ve come too far for embarrassment.
“Mornin’,” I say with the biggest grin I can muster.
“Illegal,” Tate says grumpily. He presses a kiss on my chest before disappearing into the bathroom. A second later, the shower starts, and his soft hums filter through the bathroom door. I want to join him, but I feel like he needs some time away from me after a night like we had.
Tate opens the door to aim a disappointed stare my way. “Are you going to join me?”
I almost trip over myself running to the bathroom, which earns me one of Tate’s gorgeous chuckles.
In some sort of miracle, the shower is big enough for both of us.
We take turns soaping up and rinsing off, and as we finish, Tate lifts up on his toes to brush a soft kiss to my cheek.
I breathe him in, letting the smell of his shower-warm skin suffuse through me.
“Best sleep I’ve gotten in years,” Tate admits shyly.
I bury my fingers in his hair and kiss him .
I don’t give a damn about morning breath.
We keep the kiss light because we burned the desire out of us last night.
Tomorrow is the wedding, which means I’m running out of time with this man.
But I’ll enjoy today, and the wedding tomorrow, and keep these memories for as long as I can.
After the shower, I sneak back to my room to change for the day. Outside my room, Bailey leans against the wall, an infuriating but knowing smile on his face.
“Hey, dudeeeeee,” Bailey sings.
“Shut up,” I mumble as I push into my room.
Bailey follows me into the room, radiating the energy of a cat that just got the canary. “Spent the night with Tate?”
“And if I did?”
Bailey knocks me on the shoulder with his fist. “He’s been through a lot.” Bailey lifts his hands in defense when I stare him down. “So have you! I just think… you know, I think you’d both fit actually.”
“It’s just for the wedding. A fling,” I repeat, although it feels more and more like a lie every single time I say it.
“You don’t do flings.”
“No, I don’t,” I admit. I run my hands through my still damp hair and eyeball Bailey. “Have you ever met someone and just felt an instant connection? Everything is just… easy? It’s weird, Bailey. It’s like I know him already. It makes no damn sense. It can’t possibly be real, right?”
Bailey tosses himself against my unmade bed, looking the picture of comfort and contentment. Tangling his fingers over his stomach, he peers thoughtfully up at me.
“That’s how I felt with Olivia.”
My heart beats a dangerous staccato in my chest at just the very thought. Even if it is real, how am I going to convince Tate that it is? How will I make this into something real that lasts beyond the wedding?
“Anyway, today’s the day before my wedding. Time to focus on me!”
“Nervous?” I ask as I toss myself on the bed beside him.
The smile that blooms across Bailey’s face is sickening with its sweetness. He turns his head to aim his hard stare at me. “Not really. When it’s the right person, there’s no nerves.” He lifts his arm to rest his hand over his heart. “She’s in here and I wanna make her mine forever.”
“I’m happy that you’re happy, buddy.”
Bailey slaps my chest as he sits up. “Today and tomorrow will be fun. No moping. Tell Tate you want to treat him right, date him back in the States.”
I watch my best friend leave the bedroom, wishing that it was just that easy.
Because I have this odd feeling that even if I told Tate what I wanted, he wouldn’t believe me.
Even if I layered it in sonnets and roses, Tate’s natural inclination would be to not believe me, to wonder what the catch to it all was.
And maybe that’s the part of knowing someone too, even if only in a short period of time.
By the time I wander into the kitchen, Tate is nowhere to be seen.
A few more new arrivals are scattered around, but I don’t bother introducing myself.
I’m too focused on finding Tate. I wrap a pastry up in a napkin, just in case I find him outside.
The man needs to eat more. The air is warm, smelling of the jasmine that climbs the villa walls.
Golden rays of sun touch every surface of the vista beyond, painting the land in vivid yellows and oranges.
It truly is beautiful here. Such a shame we ever have to return home.
The word home brings that usual ache back to my chest. I’ve never really had a real one.
Tried to make one for a few years, but the house I bought in Seattle always feels like just a place, not a home.
How do people make a home? Is it the place?
The person that lives with you inside the walls?
Maybe one day I’ll figure that whole thing out.
A familiar laugh catches my attention. Butterflies fill my stomach as my gaze instantly locks in on Tate.
He stands out in the garden with Olivia, their hands entwined between them as they speak softly.
Their father and Tate’s stepmother stand to the side with gentle smiles.
Family. I can’t help but smile as I watch on, seeing the easy joy spreading over their features as they laugh and hug, sharing final moments before Olivia starts her own family.
Tate must feel my gaze on him because his gaze snaps to mine. Suddenly those butterflies in my stomach turn into pterodactyl-sized creatures. I’m so far gone and I can’t bring myself to care anymore.