Page 60 of A Small Town Spring

He just hums and finds his boxers, slides them on, then offers me my pajama pants.I toss the cloth through the open bathroom door to deal with in the morning, slide my pants on over my freshly clean skin, then snap off the reading light and plunge us into near-total darkness.

Bonelessly, I settle back down into the bed.I have no idea what time it is or how many hours there are before the alarm I set earlier will wake me up, but it doesn’t matter.I haven’t had an orgasm that good in a long time and I know I’ll sleep like the dead for however long I have.

“Kingston?”Toby asks, settling onto the other side of the bed, his hand finding mine under the covers and tangling our fingers together with a surety that makes my heart light.

“Mmm?”My eyes are already closed, but I could wake up if I had to.

“I’m happy you want me.”

That’s only exactly what I’ve wanted to hear since we met.“I’m happy too.Go to sleep.”

He leaves our fingers touching and then I’m asleep.

Twenty-Nine

Toby

I’m dreamingabout toast and tea when the sound of running water breaks into my consciousness and rouses me fully.I open my eyes.Kingston’s bedroom is dim, except for the light coming from under the bathroom door.He must be getting ready for work.A bedside clock tells me it’s nearly nine in the morning.He let me sleep in.

Last night comes rushing back to me.Kissing Kingston at the gallery, impatiently waiting to be able to get my hands back on him, our first wonderful time having sex, though that encounter feels like the most tantalizing amuse-bouche to the smorgasbord of items I want him to do to me and I want to do to him.We’ve been so careful to keep our hands to ourselves that there are months’ worth of non-touches to catch up on.What we need is a vacation to someplace very boring with a very large bed.

The door opens and Kingston comes out of the bathroom, stops when he sees me.“Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“It’s all right.I was dreaming about toast.”I sniff the air.“Is there toast?”I ask hopefully.

He smiles.“There could be toast.I can put some in for you, but you’ll have to top it yourself.I have to go to work.”

I frown.“I was just fantasizing that we could take a sex vacation instead.”

He laughs.“Maybe someday, honey, but not today.”

“So, honey.Is that our thing now?”

“Depends on if you like it or not.”

I get out of bed, unselfconscious for once around him in nothing but my boxers.He’s fully dressed in his natty suit and tie, but it doesn’t stop me from putting my hands on his waist and kissing him on the mouth.Because I can.Because he wants me to.He kisses me back, his minty clean mouth meeting my sleep sour one.He smells like honey again, thanks to that beard oil—the scent of which is going to make me hard every time I smell it for the rest of eternity.

“Say it again,” I order.

“Honey,” he says throatily.“Honey.”

I shiver and whisper, “I like it.”

He kisses me, shoving his tongue into my mouth with so much force I almost have to take a step back, but his hand is on my lower back, keeping me steady, keeping me close.But before I can literally melt into a puddle, he wrenches himself away and wipes his mouth with his hand.“Dammit.You are dangerous.”

“Distracting?”

“Definitely.”

“Delightful.”We laugh at our semi-ironic alliteration together.“I suppose you have to go.”

“I do,” he says, not without his share of regret.

“And I have things to do as well.”As if anything I have to do today is half as important as kissing Kingston.

“Then I’ll see you tonight?I have a late meeting, so I was going to go straight to the party.”

So many hours away.“Not before?”

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