Page 23 of Breakfast Included

Reno smiled. “I’m composing.”

“The same song you started in the gazebo or a new one?”

“A new one,” Reno replied. “For you.”

Tate fell quiet, eyes closed. His breathing evened out, and “Tate’s Song,” because that was what Reno would call it when it was done, took hold in his mind. Satisfied it wouldn’t escape him later, Reno let himself slide under the veil of slumber, at peace in Tate’s arms.

“Who’s going to tell Ricky?”

Startled by Tate’s groggy voice, Reno pressed tighter against Tate’s body and chuckled. His brother was going to freak when he found out.

ChapterSix

Sunday, December 25

Reno awoketo a snuffling sound and warm breath on the back of his neck. His body was pressed snugly against Tate, back to chest, and a heavy arm was draped over his waist. He smiled as he remembered the night before and wiggled closer to rub his butt against Tate’s morning wood.

Tate rocked into him and grumbled something about it being too early to be awake.

“Merry Christmas,” Reno greeted as he pulled Tate’s hand up to lay a kiss on each knuckle before tucking their joined hands under his chin.

Tate kissed the back of his neck. “But I didn’t get you anything.”

“You gave me plenty last night.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Reno agreed. “Best gift ever. I’ll be feeling the beautiful reminder of your gift all day.”

“Does that mean no gifts this morning?”

“Nope.” Reno rolled in Tate’s arms to face him and tucked a leg between Tate’s. “Just means small gifts today. But small is just as good. Sometimes even better.”

“I like the way you think, Mr. Pierce.”

“Why, thank you, Mr. Boylan.”

Tate nudged Reno onto his back, half draped his warm body over him, and kissed him, slow and languid and thorough. He left off Reno’s mouth and kissed down his throat, trailed his tongue into the groove of his collarbones and down to a hard, overly sensitive nipple. He swirled his tongue around it and then sucked it into his mouth, teased it with his teeth, and Reno bucked under him as electric shocks of desire zapped and zinged from his head to his toes.

“You wreck me, Tate,” Reno gasped and gripped swaths of Tate’s silken hair in his hands.

“Just giving you a small Christmas morning gift,” Tate teased. The resonate rumble of his voice against Reno’s sensitive skin felt like sin and seduction, and his whole body trembled.

Tate scooted down Reno’s abdomen and raised his eyes as he hovered over Reno’s cock and Reno was helplessly trapped in his gaze. He watched, exposed and wanting, as Tate swirled his tongue around the head, watched it disappear between Tate’s lips, watched Tate watch him. His pulse quickened, desire flooded his veins, and he shuddered and moaned Tate’s name.

Tate grinned around his mouthful of Reno and then swallowed him down in one go. Water filled his eyes, but he didn’t so much as blink them away or falter in his ministrations.

“Gah, Tate,” Reno gasped, his throat tight, body strung. “I’m not going to last.”

Tate shoved a hand down between them and took hold of himself as he worshipped Reno, working him into a frenzy he couldn’t contain any longer.

Release hit Reno hard. He tried to keep his eyes open, to keep focused on Tate, but the force of his climax was too much. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he arched his back and shouted Tate’s name so loud he’d swear it echoed off the trees and mountains outside.

Tate stayed with him, drank him down until he was spent, and then crawled up on his knees and straddled him. Tate’s hand worked up and down in a fast blur. The veins in his neck stood out, and his chest was flushed a beautiful shade of rose. He stuttered, froze, and then hot cum splattered all over Reno’s belly.

“That was the best thing I’ve seen in a long while,” Reno said, his breath short and thready. He swirled his fingers through the mess Tate made of him.

Tate collapsed beside him, his chest rising and falling rapidly, and grabbed Reno’s hand—the cum-sticky one. He licked his palm with fervor. “Nowit’s a merry Christmas.”

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