Page 128 of I Think They Love You

He pulls Braylon apart with his hands. With teeth on taut nipples. With fingers on hips, then thighs.

With his mouth and tongue along an aching cock that happily responds to Denz’s every motion like a snake to a charmer.

Every other gasp and moan from Braylon is punctuated by his squirming along the sheets. His muscles tightening. By Denz’s name chanted until his throat’s sore.

When Denz is finished, there’s another first in this apartment:

Braylon Adams, speechless.

Crema’s remarkably empty for a Thursday. Only a few patrons huddled in their own worlds of laptops or phones. Denz grins at an unoccupied corner table, the same one he shared with Braylon months ago.

Planning the retirement party with both Kami and his dad has been time consuming. Braylon’s hands are equally full. Their communication has whittled down to emails about their upcoming parties. Nothing else. Definitely not what happened at his apartment last week.

He’s not saying today’s lunch is because hemissesBraylon. Because his pillowcase smells like oranges. Because he wakes in the middle of the night thinking about the inside of Braylon’s thighs, the way Denz’s name whispered in a British accent was like a secret prayer.

He’s not saying when he stands in his kitchen, he imagines a future with Braylon.

Today is completelywork-related.

For once, he’s early. According to his last text, Braylon’s tenminutes away. He studies Crema’s new spring menu until a throat clears. Denz is greeted by a beautiful man around his age. Light sepia skin, tousled dark hair, a knowing smile.

After a beat, recognition settles: it’s Jade Suit Guy from the Valentine’s gala, from Elite Events.

“Javier,” the man says by way of introduction. “Javi, preferably.”

“Denzel Carter.”

“Oh, I know.” Javi’s smile grows, revealing dimples. “Hard to ignore the competition when they look like you.”

Denz half smirks. “Is that so?”

“Didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” Javi tells him. “We were supposed to meet at the gala. Your aunties—”

“Are nosey and aggressively wrong about things,” Denz finishes.

Javi laughs. A rich, melodic noise. “Aren’t all tías?”

“I guess.”

Javi’s brown eyes are piercingly attentive, as if he’s reading Denz, no context needed. “They tried to set us up,” he says. “Something about you being on the rebound?”

Denz frowns. “They were wrong.”

Javi crosses his arms in a smooth, relaxed way that doesn’t intimidate Denz. Or turn him on. “I’m in a relationship,” he manages to get out. “We’re very happy. I’m in a good place.”

And he is. Sure, his “relationship” isn’t real. There’s a fifty-fifty chance he’ll either be CEO of his dad’s company or working for someone else next week. Someone who won’t give a shit about his family’s legacy like he or his sister does. But he’s fine.

“That’s… good,” Javi says, then laughs again.

“And you?” Denz asks. “Life must be great at thesecond-bestevent planner in Atlanta.”

“You’re funny.” Javi’s lips curve upward, a twinkle in his eye. “Just like the client I had the other day. Said he wanted to commission 24 CarterSilverto host his engagement party and future nuptials. Unfortunately, you guys don’t do weddings.”

Denz’s confident expression slips.

“That’s a shame,” Javi comments, even though he doesn’t look disappointed.

“Yeah,” Denz chews out. “Real shame.”

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