24. Austin
CHAPTER 24
Austin
T he sun’s just starting to rise, the air a touch crisp this morning, signaling summer finally coming to an end. Taylor’s beside me, her breathing even as her feet hit the pavement in sync with mine.
For weeks now, she’s been joining me on my morning runs. What started as a fun challenge has turned into a regular thing—and she’s gotten fast. Almost too fast.
But that’s Taylor, good at everything and makes it look like a breeze.
“Still keeping up?” she teases, her voice light but with a competitive edge.
“Barely,” I lie, grinning at her. “But don’t get too comfortable. You’re not leaving me in the dust just yet.”
“Better save some gas in the tank for spin class, old man,” she teases again before shooting ahead of me.
I push harder, the familiar burn of exertion in my lungs taking over just as we reach the door to the studio. Taylor’s been killing it lately, joining me at spin classes in addition to her yoga sessions. She’s keeping pace with me, and I can’t help but admire her drive. It’s honestly impressive. Hell, it’s attractive—one of the most sexy things about her, apart from her brains.
But when we hit spin class, that’s where the real competition begins.
The studio is packed this morning, and the energy is high. We’re seated next to each other, the dim lights reflecting off the sweat already forming on my brow. The instructor yells out commands, and we both push harder. Taylor shoots me a sideways glance, her lips curling into a grin as she cranks the resistance on her bike.
“Trying to show me up?” I laugh, trying not to make it obvious how winded I actually am.
“Someone’s gotta keep you on your toes, Austin,” she replies, not missing a beat.
I try to match her, pushing my limits, but somewhere in the midst of my competitive streak, I lose focus. I’m out of the saddle and leaning too far forward for how fast I’m going. The bike wobbles beneath me, and one set of the small wheels on the bottom goes up in the air. For a second, I’m sure I’m going down. My legs falter, and I grip the handlebars tighter, just managing to steady myself.
Taylor bursts into laughter. I shoot her a look—half embarrassed, half amused. I know my face is white as a ghost.
“Almost ate it there, didn’t you?” she says between a fit of breathless giggles.
“Yeah, yeah,” I reply, rolling my eyes but laughing along with her. “But I’m still gonna kick your ass.” I crank up the gear to a level I know damn well she can’t push through.
“Cheater,” she mutters, flashing me a mischievous smile as she kicks her legs into high gear.
We’re both gassed when the music stops, and we unstrap our shoes.
“I’ll buy you a new pair of Louboutins if you beat me.”
She almost considers it, but then she shrugs and says, “I can buy them myself and still kick your ass,” before giving me a cheeky smile.
As we leave the studio, the fresh air hits us like a relief. I glance over at her. She’s still chuckling under her breath, her ponytail swinging as she walks beside me. There’s something about this—how easy it’s become, the way she fits into my life without even trying, and the way we both just melded our lives together.
And before I can second-guess myself, I say it. “You should move in with me.”
Taylor’s steps falter slightly, but when she looks at me, there’s no hesitation. “Okay.”
“Wait—seriously? Just like that?” I’m stunned. I expected some back and forth, maybe a little apprehension from her, and a snarky jab or two. Not an immediate okay.
She shrugs, her face softening. “Yeah. I’m not scared anymore. I’m all in with you, Austin.”
My heart races, and not from the workout this time. I can’t believe how easy this feels. Usually, she at least makes me work for it before agreeing. “But what about your place? You’ve got, what, six months left on your lease?”
“I’ll pay to break it,” she says casually, like it’s no big deal.
I shake my head. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll take care of it. It was my suggestion.”
Taylor rolls her eyes. “Austin, I’m perfectly capable of handling my own lease. I don’t need you paying for everything.” When we stop at a crosswalk, she turns to face me with her arms crossed, but there’s a playful gleam in her eyes. “I know you love taking care of me, and I appreciate it, and I love that about you, but I can take care of myself.”
“I know you can,” I say, smirking. “But what’s wrong with me helping you out a little? It makes me feel useful.”
“You’re not useful as a man just because of your money, you know? You have intrinsic value outside of that.” She gives me the same speech about how my identity as a man is not determined by my job or self-worth, a fun little diatribe I know gets her riled up when I protest.
“Maybe I want to be a source of money for you, treat you right.” I loop my arm around her neck. “Knock you up so you can’t work anymore,” I tease, knowing it will launch her into yet another speech.
And just like that, we’re mock-arguing, her stubborn independence going head-to-head with my need to make her life easier. I love this side of her—the way she refuses to let me do too much, even though I want to.
As we reach my place, we transition back to the routine of getting ready for work. I’m standing in the kitchen, sipping coffee, when the thought hits me.
“Hey,” I say, “do you think we should send out an email or something? Let everyone at the company know we’re officially together?”
Taylor laughs out loud, shaking her head as she applies her makeup in front of the bathroom mirror. “Are you serious? No way. They’ll figure it out eventually.”
“When’s eventually?” I ask, following her into the bathroom.
“Eventually,” she says nonchalantly with a shrug, not even looking at me. She’s focused on her eyeliner like this is the least concerning topic in the world.
I can’t help but smile. Little does she know, they’ll figure it out soon enough because I plan to propose to her this weekend.
I ’m adjusting my shirt in the mirror when Taylor walks into the room, finishing the last touches on her makeup. She looks at me and raises an eyebrow.
“You nervous or something?”
I shrug, feeling the slight tension settle in my chest. “I just think tonight’s a good time to tell our friends that we’re officially together.”
We’re meeting friends for dinner tonight, and while we haven’t seen them all together since the pickleball incident, I know, between my conversations with Miguel and Taylor’s conversations with Becca, the rumor mill has been churning.
Taylor bursts out laughing. “Austin, come on. They’ve probably figured it out by now, considering we’ve been basically MIA the entire week.”
I grin, but I’m serious. “Maybe, but I want to make an announcement. I’m proud to be your man, Taylor.”
Her expression softens, and she crosses the room to stand in front of me, resting her hand on my chest. “I know, but trust me, they already know. You don’t need to announce it. It’s been written all over our faces for months.”
I tilt my head in a playful challenge. “Well, I’m still going to say it. Just wait.”
Taylor sighs dramatically, but there’s a smile tugging at her lips. “Alright, Mr. Proud Boyfriend. Let’s go. We don’t want to be late.”
I reach out to grab her hand. “Wait. Say it again.” Her brows furrow, but I elaborate, saying, “It’s the first time you’ve said it. At least that I’ve heard.”
“Oh, boyfriend?” She grins as her hands slowly slide back up my chest.
“Mmm, sounds good coming from these lips.” I lean in, dragging my lips softly against hers. “These lips that need to be kissed.” My tongue is already sliding between them, my hand reaching down to lift the hem of her dress.
“We’re going to be late,” she murmurs as I back her slowly toward the bed.
“Yes, we are.” I drag my lips down her throat as I lay her back on the bed. Then, I’m on my knees, tugging her to the edge of the bed and pushing her dress up her thighs in one motion.
“Yes,” she hisses, her hips lifting as I drag her panties down her legs.
A second later, she’s melting against my mouth. Her hands tangle in my hair as I swirl my tongue around her clit, sucking it gently into my mouth.
“Oh fuck, baby,” she groans, and my cock throbs like it always does when she loses herself like this. She’s already learned that I don’t like when she holds back. “Yes, right there,” she moans, her hips beginning to lift and grind against my tongue.
I want her trembling when I walk her out of here in a moment.
I want her brains still scrambled when I sit her down at the restaurant.
I want nothing except the I-just-got-the-shit-fucked-out-of-me look on her face when we arrive.
Slipping two fingers inside her, I begin to pump them, curling my fingertips upward. My movements aren’t gentle or coaxing. She quivers, her legs starting to tremble as she moans incoherent words.
Her pussy walls clench, her thighs attempt to close, and her back arches as her release tears through her. I keep my mouth on her clit, my fingers continuing to pump inside her as she floods my fingers.
Her whimpering moans almost make me flip her onto all fours and take her from behind for a quickie. The sounds this woman makes alone are enough to make me weak in the knees.
“Let me clean you up, sweetheart.” I stand and attempt to adjust my cock as I walk to the bathroom. Once I’ve cleaned her up, I help her stand, adjusting her dress and hair back into place before holding out my hand toward her. “Shall we?”
We arrive at the restaurant, where our group is already gathered around a long table. Becca waves us over. Hector is next to her, and Miguel and Mia are chatting at the other end, both avoiding the question of whether they’re a couple or not.
“How are you feeling?” I press a kiss to Taylor’s temple as we near the table.
“Hmm?” She looks over at me, her eyes still hazy and dazed. “Yeah, I’m okay,” she says in a breathy, content little moan.
“Good. You look breathtaking.”
The conversation flows easily, and after a while, I clear my throat. “So, we’ve got a little announcement.”
Taylor immediately groans, her hand flying to her forehead in mock despair, but she’s smiling.
“We’re officially together,” I say proudly, and the table erupts in laughter.
Becca’s the first to speak, shaking her head with a wide grin. “Did you really think we didn’t know?”
Hector nods. “Yeah, man, we had a betting pool on how long it’d take you to figure it out yourselves.”
Miguel leans over, winking at Taylor. “I’m surprised you didn’t make us announce it for you.”
Taylor shoots me a teasing look. “See? I told you they’d already know.”
I lean back in my chair and smile at her. “I wanted to say it anyway. I’m proud of being your man.”
She meets my gaze, her eyes softening in that way that always hits me right in the chest. The laughter and teasing from our friends fade into the background as we share this quiet moment. It’s not about the announcement, not really. It’s about this—us—about how good it feels to finally call her mine.
Taylor squeezes my hand under the table. “I’m proud to be yours too, baby.”