Chapter 49
Forty-Eight
You Got It (The Right Stuff)
Ryan
Holy forking shittake mushrooms! Spencer Stark is kissing me out of my goddamn shoes.
Fuck, this man can kiss. I knew he would be a good kisser. I could murder him for choosing this moment though.
Now I have to sit through this whole event with a situation snaking down my thigh. There's no way this thing is going down until he takes me home and fucks the cum out of me.
Shit.
Now all I'm going to be thinking about is Spence pounding my ass... while kissing me. This is bad. I need to stop kissing him right now, but I can't. I have waited so long to feel his full lips on mine. My brain blips every time his tongue slides against mine, and he tastes so damn good.
I grab two handfuls of his ass and yank him closer to me, rub my erection against his thigh, and he groans. Pulling back from the kiss just slightly, I suck his bottom lip into my mouth and bite gently. Spence tugs on my hair. His hands have been gripping the back of my head the whole kiss.
Unfortunately for me, we can't suck face in this hotel kitchen office all night. I break the kiss, but I'm not happy about it. We stand there a moment, smiling at each other like a couple of breathless goons. I throw my thumb over my shoulder, pointing toward the kitchen, and say, “I gotta—”
“Yeah, I should probably—” Spence responds. Clearly we're incapable of completing sentences right now.
“Kay,” I squeak.
“Good,” he nods. Neither of us move.
Finally, Spence frames my face in his hands and says, “Go be adorable showing them how to cook.” Then he drops his voice. “It's making me very fucking horny.”
“Spennnnnce,” I whine and he laughs. He gives me one last kiss, gentle and reverent. Then he moves past me and opens the office door. He steps through and I grab my hat off the floor where he tossed it. I turn to follow, but he stops, looks over his shoulder and says, “And Ryan?”
“Yeah, Spence?”
He looks pointedly at my chef's hat and says, “Bring the uniform home with you.”
I tilt my head back and groan. “Fuuuuck. You’re torturing me here.”
He winks and walks toward the exit.
I turn my attention back to the kitchen and clap my hands together. “Okay,” I say. “Where were we?”
Nobody answers.
Every single person just stares at me, blinking.
I scratch the back of my neck and let out a nervous laugh. “Was it that obvious?”
Bonnie cackles. Jacob snickers. The hotel’s head chef, Javi steps forward, shaking his head. “Go.”
“What?”
“Go enjoy the show,” he says. “We got this.”
I glance around the kitchen. Bonnie and Jacob are already shooing me away with both hands.
I look back at Javi. “Yeah? You sure?”
He smiles. “Ryan, we're about to serve anyway. You should get to watch the show.”
I grin and bump my fist against his. “Thanks, Jav.” Then I point at the THRIVE crew. “Behave. All of you.”
They immediately start making faces.
“I'm proud of you,” I add. That earns me a collection of smiles. I point at them one more time. “I'm serious.”
“Go!” Bonnie yells.
I laugh and take off.
A few seconds later, I burst through the kitchen doors and spill into the hallway.
My eyes immediately find him. Spence is halfway to the ballroom entrance.
Without thinking, I start running. Toward him.
Toward my future. Toward the man who's somehow managed to help me become the man I was always meant to be even though he was resisting his own worth.
I catch up just before he reaches the doors. Without slowing down, I reach for his hand and lace our fingers together.
Spence jolts, and panic immediately shoots through me. Shit. Maybe this is too much. Maybe he's not ready for public displays.
Then he looks up at me. And smiles. Unrestrained. The biggest smile I've ever seen on Spencer Stark's face.
My heart absolutely eats shit.
I grin right back. “Hey, boyfriend.”
He rolls his eyes, but his smile gets even wider. “Back for more already?”
I shrug. “I'll never get enough.”
He doesn't say anything. Just squeezes my hand and tugs me closer as we walk through the ballroom doors together.
“Chef kicked me out,” I tell him. “Said I should come watch the show.”
The ballroom is buzzing now, guests settling into their seats. I squeeze his hand. “I'm glad, though.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I would've missed your reaction. Tyler worked so hard on this, Spence.”
His fingers tighten around mine. Hard. “I need you to stop talking.”
I laugh. “Why?”
“I can't cry again today.”
I bump my shoulder against his.
Then movement catches my eye. Tyler is barreling toward us. And he looks fucking fierce.
He's wearing what appears to be a kilt that he cut into a mini skirt. Purple fishnet stockings disappear beneath it, torn in places and stitched back together with bright pink safety pins. A Victorian-looking white men’s blouse with flared sleeves covers his upper body, and he’s got all but the bottom few buttons undone.
There are—I count them—seven belts in varying styles wrapped around his waist, and… are those silver moon boots?
His silver lipstick matches them perfectly. Heavy black eye makeup frames his gray eyes. He's rushing toward us looking like a punk-rock superstar. And he's dragging a muscular guido-looking man by the suit jacket.
Tyler skids to a stop in front of us. His eyes drop to our linked hands. “Aw, the two old men made it past first base. Fucking finally. Jesus.”
“Language, Tyler,” Spence says, fighting a smile.
Tyler rolls his eyes, then points at the olive-skinned man beside him. “Guys, this is Nick.” His cheeks turn pink. Then even pinker. “Officer Nick Lazos.” His rookie cop crush.
Officer Lazos shoots us a toothy grin. Tyler quickly starts talking again. “Everyone calls him Laz, though. Well, I don't know if everyone does. Maybe just people he allows to. You can call him Nick, I guess.”
He's rambling. Actually rambling.
I stare. Spence stares. Watching a usually cocky Tyler stumble over words is adorable. Apparently, Officer Nick agrees because he's smiling at Tyler like he hung the moon.
My protective instincts are activated.
“Nick or Laz,” he says in a deep gravelly voice. “Either is fine.” He extends a hand. Spence shakes it first. “Spencer Stark. We met briefly when you first came to volunteer.”
Nick nods. “I remember.”
Then he turns to me. I shake his hand. Possibly a little harder than necessary. “Ryan.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m a fan.”
I narrow my eyes. “What are your intentions with our Tyler here?”
Tyler's eyes widen dramatically. His expression clearly says: Dude. Stop.
Nick laughs. “That's entirely up to him.”
I hold his gaze for a beat. Then I nod. “Good answer.”
The relief on Tyler's face is immediate. I grin and clap Nick on the shoulder. “We're heading to our table.”
Before Tyler can escape, I pull him into a hug. He makes a startled noise. “Break a leg, T-Bone.”
His arms wrap around me. “Thanks, Ryan. And thank you for all of this.”
When I let him go, Spence immediately pulls him into another hug. I lose a little more of my heart to the man when I hear him whisper, “I'm so fucking proud of you.”
Tyler goes completely still. My insides melt.
Tyler swipes at his eyes. “Okay. Nope. Not doing this. Go to your table.”
I laugh, grab Spence's hand again, and start hauling him toward our table.
Spence and I walk through the ballroom hand in hand. I can't stop smiling. Maybe it's because I'm surrounded by people I trust. Maybe it's because of the kind of event this is. Maybe it's because I'm not hiding myself anymore. Whatever the reason, I find myself walking a little taller.
This is the first time I've ever done this. The first time I've walked into a room holding another man's hand. And it feels... Fuck. It feels like breathing cleaner air. Like someone opened a window in a room I didn't realize I'd been trapped inside.
No one’s giving me funny looks for baring ass on the internet, either.
Again, I’m in a safe space. I’m sure I’ll face more people like the grocery store hateful woman.
And I’m sure I’ll meet more incredible people like the sweet old lady with the whipped cream.
Point is, I feel like I can handle it all.
Especially with this man by my side. I can’t believe we met at the shelter. As soon as he told me, the memory resurfaced. Spencer Stark was the first boy I noticed. The first one I associated the word ‘beautiful’ with. And now he’s mine.
Holy shit! We were meant to be.
I squeeze Spence's hand, the thought making me giddy. When we reach the table I'd reserved for all of us, I guide him toward our seats near the front of the stage, tucked into the nook beside the catwalk. Close enough to see every detail of Tyler's work.
Spence pulls out my chair.
The entire table is silent. I look down, and everyone is staring at us with looks of anticipation: Well? What happened?
A slow grin spreads across my face. Before Spence can sit down, I turn, cup the back of his head, and pull him into a kiss.
The table erupts. Gasps. Cheers. Catcalls. When I finally pull back, Spence looks completely dazed and I laugh.
Then I remember I'm still wearing the chef’s coat. More importantly... I remember what I'm wearing underneath. I glance down at the chef's coat. Then back at Spence. His eyes narrow with suspicion.
“Ryan.”
I start unbuttoning the coat.
Very. Slowly.
“Ryan.”
I pump my eyebrows. The last button comes undone. I shrug out of the coat with a flourish.
Spence's eyes travel slowly over my outfit. The expression on his face is worth every second Tyler spent convincing me to wear it. The pants Tyler made for me are embellished with silver glitter across the top section that was hidden by the jacket. Barely covering my chest is a black mesh crop top.
Spence’s gaze drags down my body and stalls right below my exposed belly button. Spence’s eyes darken.
He reaches for my arm and leans closer. “You’re going to pay for that later.”
I grin. “I fucking hope so.”