But we still needed to talk. I hadn’t even mentioned the family get-together.
We finished eating, keeping on light topics. Afterward, Isaac washed the dishes since I’d cooked. He was still in his button-up shirt and slacks from work when he walked over, took my hands, and dropped his forehead to mine. “What else aren’t you telling me? You’re supposed to be the one who talks.”
“I forgot we have a whole lot of family coming next month.”
Isaac pulled back and frowned, clearly having forgotten as well.
“What are we going to do? I know it just started, but it’s not going to do us any good to pretend our situation isn’t what it is. Do we tell Mom and Dad now? Hope all goes well and that things don’t get fucked up before everyone is in town? Do we wait and tell them afterward? Give us some time to get used to it ourselves? How do we approach things with other people? Everyone I know here considers us brothers. Do we move and start over somewhere else? What if you realize you’re not in love with me and we did all this, hurt everyone, and—”
“Shh.” Isaac pressed two fingers to my lips. “Who knew you were such a worrier?”
“This is serious, Isaac.”
He sighed. “I know. And I’ve had a whole lot more time to get used to feeling this way about you than you have about me.” He tugged me over to the couch. We sat down beside each other. “Helena will never stop loving you.”
That easily, he’d read my fears. It was a fact my brain kept telling me. I knew my mom. Knew how she loved, but my heart was full of fear and insecurities. Nothing in the world was stronger than the heart and what it made you feel, not even logic. But the truth was, I didn’t want to let her down either. I didn’t want her to look at me with disappointment. “I know.”
“Do you want to continue doing this?” His hand was on my arm, his finger absently brushing against my skin. I wasn’t sure he even realized he was doing it.
“Yes, God yes.”
Isaac smirked. “Glad to see your taste in men has improved.”
I rolled my eyes.
“I think we should wait,” Isaac continued. “This is a lot, and it happened quickly…well, once everything was out in the open. I don’t think we should rush on letting everyone in. We need to get our legs underneath us as a couple, sort things out between us before we invite others in. This is a big change, and it affects more than just the two of us.”
I nodded, agreeing with him. He was right. It wasn’t as if anyone would wonder about us spending time together, so to the outside world, things would continue as they’d always been. “Okay, but can we go back to that whole inviting others in? Because now that I have you, I sure as shit don’t plan on ever sharing you,” I teased.
“You would keep an experience as life altering as being with me from other men? How selfish of you,” Isaac played along. “I’ve never seen this side of you before. I just can’t stop feeling guilty for all the men of Atlanta who’ve never known what it’s like to have me.”
“Eh, you’ll do,” I replied.
“Asshole.” Isaac leaned in, flicked his tongue across my lips, then slipped it inside. It was a quick kiss, but sometimes those were the best kind—the quick ones before goodbye or after hello, that spoke of comfort and familiarity. “I don’t want anyone else but you. Of course we’re exclusive. I’m gonna go shower.” He pressed another kiss to my lips and stood.
I watched as he walked down the hall toward his bedroom, missing him already.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Isaac
I stayed in the shower longer than I needed to, enjoying the feel of the hot water as it pelted my skin. I liked knowing Lane was in the condo with me. I liked coming home to him and kissing him and eating dinner with him at the table.
That was a big part of why I didn’t want to tell anyone yet. I worried that once we did, things would change and be more difficult. It was naive to pretend otherwise. Right now, I just wanted to enjoy the hell out of being with Lane, and it was exactly what I planned to do. Our problems weren’t going anywhere. We could deal with them later.
After my shower, I dried off, wrapped a towel around my waist, and brushed my teeth. I’d just plucked shaving cream off the counter, when Lane came in.
He didn’t say anything, just slyly pulled the bottle from my hand. I cocked a brow, and he grinned.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Shut up.”
“Goddamn, you’re bossy.”
“And you’re still talking.” Lane released a drop of shaving cream onto his finger. He touched the tip of my nose, leaving a dot of white behind, before setting the bottle on the counter. He picked up my electric shaver and asked, “Is it at the right setting for your length?” I liked to keep it trimmed very short, a slight dusting of a beard. When I didn’t reply, he shook his head, his eyes knowing.
“Well, you can’t have it both ways. You can’t tell me to shut up and then ask me questions.”
“But you love me, so that means I can get away with anything, right?” he joked.
“You wish. But yes.” I’d never had a lover shave me before, but I would let Lane.
The razor buzzed to life. I leaned my ass against the counter, Lane in front of me. He was in nothing but his underwear. The man would live in them or nude if he could.
He trimmed my length, and when he finished, he set the razor down, then plucked the bottle up again. He reached around me and turned the faucet on. He filled his hand with shaving cream, then rubbed it along my neck and face strategically, to clean up my edges.
I didn’t know why, but I held my breath with the first stroke of the razor against my skin. There was something incredibly intimate about this moment—the two of us close, the bulge in his boxer briefs, the look of concentration on his face while he shaved me. Each movement of his hand, the way his eyes studied what he did, made me feel like I was his art. Like he took shaving me that seriously. I was his canvas, and Lane was creating a masterpiece.
It was hard to concentrate on anything other than Lane and what he was doing to me, but I managed to say, “You’re being very sweet to me. What’s up with that?”
“I’m always sweet to you…and this is what we do, no? Haven’t we always taken care of each other? Now we’re just doing it in different ways.”
Jesus, this fucking guy. He was so damn incredible.
Lane finished shaving me, then stepped closer, his body against mine, flesh on flesh, as he rinsed the razor and put it away. He grabbed a washcloth, put it under the faucet, then stepped back to wipe my face clean. “Just as hot as always.”
“You should do that more often. Tell me I’m hot.”
Lane chuckled, the sound not quieting until he pressed his lips to my neck. I groaned at the feel of his mouth against my skin. I dropped my head back, held his hips while he made out with my neck, kissing and licking, then working his way down my body, across my pecs.
I growled when he pulled back, needing more of him. Needing Lane.
“I’m not going anywhere. I love how much you want me. Makes me feel like the luckiest man in the world.”