Page 113 of I Think They Love You

Braylon peels himself away. “They’reart.”

“Fuck, you’re awful at this.”

“I’m not!”

“Yes, you are. Your ancestors are offended. Have you never taken a selfie before?”

A sudden urge to kiss Braylon’s pouty mouth rattles Denz. Scratch that. He’s going to be the one throwing up last night’s food.

“C’mere,” he demands.

After too much effort and groggy complaints from Braylon, Denz rolls to his side. He convinces Braylon to spoon him. A hint of relief comes when he realizes he’s not the only one with a sleepy erection. Denz poses Braylon’s hand against his chest. Fixes the bedding until it only covers his lower half.

The shot is captured in one attempt:

Denz, shirtless on his side. Braylon hidden except for his arm; long fingers curled around Denz’s scruffy chin. Sunlight washes over them in the perfect shade of orange.

He captions it:morning cuddles. Adds the sleeping-face and smiling-with-three-hearts emojis.

“You’re okay with this?” Denz double-checks.

His first two posts were tame. Small hints to tease his followers. Butthis…

The gossip blogs will certainly smell blood in the water. At least it’ll push the narrative for his family.

Braylon stares at the photo for a long minute. “Yes,” he whispers.

“I won’t tag you,” Denz promises again.

“I know.”

And that hint of confidence, of the trust in Braylon’s voice, wakes a smile from the corners of Denz’s lips. He posts, then tucks his phone under a pillow.

A beat passes. Braylon doesn’t move away. There’s a distinct nudge between Denz’s thighs, behind his balls, that encourages his own half-hard cock to life.

God, he could go for another round.

No. Last night was… they were drunk. It was a one-time—two, actually—thing, but that’s all.

He does his best to slide into Now Denz. The one who doesn’t do sleepovers. Who never saves numbers, never repeats. Never, ever gets attached. He shakes off the ghost of College Denz because that version was uncertain and got his heart shattered.

That Denz wouldn’t last five seconds as head of 24 Carter Gold.

He needs to crawl out of bed. It’s time to get dressed. Order a car to drive him back to his own. Also, he should check in with Kami. Offer to help her with any of last night’s wrap-up like a responsible future CEO would.

With the engagement party out of the way, his dad’s retirement event is all that’s left before the next successor is chosen.

Now, more than ever, Denz needs to focus.

But the moment he turns to face Braylon to tell him this, the words dry up in his throat.

He’s caught on the shadowy bristle along Braylon’s jaw. Warm skin soaking up the light. The sleepiness in his brown eyes. Even this Braylon, with the curls instead of a buzz cut, quiet smirk instead of a loud, infectious grin, the heavy brow of someone who’s experienced success and loss and life in another country, looks at Denz like he’s still that boy in Athens pretending to know what the fuck he was doing.

“Do you think,” Denz pauses, swallowing, “I can do it?”

“Do what?”

“Run the company. Be the boss. Carry my dad’s legacy.”

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