Spencer #2
“Okay.” I pulled Keeley into my arms again and kissed her temple, then did the same to Hannah. “You get dinner, and I’ll meet you at our place.”
“Here—” Keeley fished through her bag one-handed and withdrew a pair of sunglasses. “He’ll need these for the corridors and parking lot.”
“Thank you.” I pressed my forehead against hers and centered myself. I’d been spinning out of control, panic destroying my ability to even think straight. But he was okay, or at least would be in a couple of weeks.
I tugged playfully on Hannah’s fluffy pigtail and gave her a smile. Hannah tapped her cheek with her palm. I chuckled and planted a kiss there. “Goodnight, sweet pea.”
***
The only light in the apartment was being cast by the range hood, but, together with the lights from the city, it was enough for us to be able to navigate our way around the room.
We really needed our own place. We might as well have been living out of a suitcase for the past couple of years, even though this apartment was bigger than the studio we’d had in Boston.
But the house had to wait. We couldn’t sign anything until Texas was cleared—no strenuous activity or thinking was permitted until then, and that definitely included buying a multimillion-dollar home.
Bray was our number one concern for the moment.
He’d had paracetamol and was lying on the sofa, his eyes covered by a cold pack.
He was wrapped in just his towel, droplets of water from his hair still sitting on his shoulders.
Midnight was perched on his chest, purring loudly as he lay there.
Our cat was a fickle one. She didn’t let Brayden anywhere near her most of the time, hissing, scratching, and biting him whenever he got too close or she decided to rock the boat.
But the moment he’d walked in tonight, she’d wound her way around his legs and immediately settled on him when he’d laid down.
Hannah was asleep in her portable crib, and Keeley was making a cup of chamomile tea for Bray.
I ran my fingers through his hair, then asked, “Hey, Texas, how are you feeling?”
“A bit dizzy,” he groaned.
“Why don’t we get you into bed? See if you can sleep it off.” I pressed a kiss to his forehead and another to his jaw. “You can use me if you want.”
He peeled off the cold pack and raised a brow, questioning me.
“No obligation or anything, but it usually helps you zone out when you’re my pretty cock warmer.”
“Now? Really?” he snapped, and Midnight flew off his chest, darting into her favorite hidey hole in the small cupboard that doubled as a linen and broom cupboard.
I opened my mouth, ready to protest, but then I recalled what Trisha had advised us as we were leaving the arena—“His moods might be off. Don’t take his being snappy or irritated personally. He can’t help it.”
“Sorry.” Bray sighed and closed his eyes. “Could I? It might help.”
I replaced the cold pack on his face and trailed the backs of my fingers down his cheek. “Of course, Bray. But like I said, only if it helps. I’m not asking you to blow me.”
He quirked his lip up and captured my hand with his, then pressed a kiss to my fingers. “Sex always makes me feel better...”
“Nothing strenuous, Bray. Sex is off the table for the moment,” I lamented, and stroked his cheek again.
“Cuddle, then,” he demanded.
“Absolutely.”
I called out to Keeley and helped him up, dropped his towel over a chair, then led him naked to the bedroom to get settled.
Once I’d stripped to my boxer briefs, I eased myself onto the bed, trying not to jostle him.
I was lying on my side, Bray’s face against my abs, and what was left of his curls after he’d cut them silky soft between my fingers.
“Do you need anything, Brayden?” Keeley asked from the doorway. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
He tensed, and I looked down. His eyes were closed, strain lines along his forehead and near his eyes. “Hey, Texas, you okay?” I ran my fingers along his forehead and temple, trying to soothe him, and he buried his face against my groin and groaned.
“The two of you are beautiful together. I love how you love each other,” Keeley breathed, then climbed onto the bed behind Bray. She wrapped her arm around his waist and pressed a kiss to his nape. He relaxed but the strain lines still creased his forehead.
“Hey,” she murmured and flicked her gaze to mine. Concern lingered in her deep brown eyes, her teeth biting deeply into her bottom lip. “Are you in pain?”
Bray nodded, and I ran my fingers through his hair again and curled over him, hugging him as best I could in our awkward position.
“Please,” he mumbled.
We’d spoken with Keeley about this before. Now she was going to see it firsthand. I shuffled out of my boxer briefs, and she caught on to what was happening.
“Do you mind if I stay? It’s not that I want to watch. I just want to be with you.” I knew she was in as deep as we were even if none of us were ready to say the words yet.
“Mmm,” he hummed, and I lined my soft cock up against his mouth. He closed his lips around my cockhead and nuzzled into me, taking me a little deeper. He didn’t suck, or even really move his tongue, but being surrounded by his wet heat was an exercise in restraint.
“Such a good boy,” Keeley praised and pressed a line of kisses along Bray’s shoulder.
He moaned, and I fought my body’s instinct, desperately trying to stay soft. But it was a losing battle.
I pulled out and squeezed my cock until I saw stars—and not the good kind—then I drew my sac away from my body.
My balls were hanging full and heavy, and my cock was throbbing.
I had a semi that was only a single warm breath away from being rock-solid again.
My will was wavering, my capacity to hold back my erection decreasing with every passing second, but this wasn’t about sex for us, and I wouldn’t taint it by turning it into that.
I waited my cock out, thinking every unsexy thought possible, and when I was finally ready, I held my cock against Bray’s lips again.
He took me between his lips, holding me against the roof of his mouth with his tongue. I hummed our song, quietly singing to him until his breathing eventually slowed. I kept slowly finger-combing his hair, keeping my touch light to try to help with his headache.
Bray nuzzled me, and my cock fell out of his mouth—he’d fallen asleep. I breathed a sigh of relief that he could get some rest now. I shuffled down the bed and pulled my pillow closer to Bray’s, then wrapped my arm around his waist and pressed as close as I could to him.
I watched Keeley watch me. “That was beautiful,” she finally murmured. “The give and take between you is perfection.”
“He’s pretty special,” I agreed, turning my attention back to him. His long eyelashes fanned out over his cheeks, his mouth was slightly open, and his breathing had slowed.
“He is.” She snuggled in closer to him and pressed another kiss to his nape. “So are you.”
I laced my fingers with hers and brought our joined hands to my lips, then kissed her knuckles. “Thank you for understanding.”
She squeezed my fingers and smiled softly at me before flicking her gaze to Bray. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his head. My heart was full when she whispered, “Good night, Spencer.”
“Night, Keels.”
***
I woke up to the sun flooding through a gap in the heavy curtains in the living room and Hannah fussing.
It had been a restless night. I’d been up every couple of hours checking on Bray, but whenever I did, Keeley was already awake and talking quietly to him, handing him a drink or more pain pills, or adjusting the blanket over us.
The two of them were now curled up together, fast asleep and sharing a pillow.
Before Hannah called out for her mum again, I eased myself out of the bed, slipped into a pair of old pajamas—plaid pants and a soft grey T-shirt—and padded out of the room. I barely got the door closed before Hannah shouted in an excited voice, “Pencer!”
“Good morning, sweet pea. How about we get you out of that wet nappy and fill your tummy with some breaky.”
She rubbed her belly and said, “Mmm, biscuit.”
I laughed and replied, “You can’t have a cookie for breakfast, sweet pea.”
“No cookie. Biscuit,” she insisted.
“Oh, you bloody Americans,” I muttered under my breath. “I’ll never get it right.”
I looked up the recipe for biscuits online, and there were a bunch of ingredients we didn’t have, but from every picture I’d seen they looked a whole lot like scones. I messaged Mum.
Hey Ma, can you send me your scone recipe?
I laughed at Mum’s response.
Oh, he’s alive! I was going to send out a search party.
I sent messages straight back.
Smart arse.
But seriously, I need the recipe.
It’s a hungry two-year-old baby emergency.
Huuuuuurry!
There was a pause before she responded with a row of crying laughter emojis.
Watch your language, you little shit. Whose two-year-old is it? Here’s the recipe. Call me when you have a minute. I need the deets and you owe me an update, kiddo.
I responded with one sure to have her full naming me.
Yes, Mum.
It was barely a second later that she responded.
Spencer Clay Anderson, I’m going to get that husband of yours to spank your behind for that!
She was so predictable. Laughing, I called her up and put her on speaker while I laid Hannah down on the floor and stripped her pajama bottoms off.
“Hey, Ma,” I said when she answered. “I’ve missed you.”
Hannah reached for my cell phone and said, “Lo, lo,” while I tugged off her nappy and wiped her down.
I grinned at her and said, “That’s my mummy, sweet pea.”
“Who’s this? Oh wait, my prodigal son? The one who I’ve officially disowned because he’s a right shit who’s a smart arse to his mother?
The same mother who birthed him and raised him and bought every bloody guitar out there?
” I could hear the smile in her voice when she spoke. “How are you, Spence?”
“I’m good, Ma. How’s everyone there?”