Page 15 of Hot Chicken
“We should probably finish talking about Boston,” I said reluctantly, giving him a quick kiss. “Or not-Boston. I want to know whatyouwant.”
Gage smiled against my lips. “Boston can wait. What I want… is a nice shower and possibly a round two. Withyou, in case that wasn’t clear.” His grin widened. “Because you and me together, in any capacity, is my idea of perfection.”
I stared at him for a long moment. Gage was right. Totally and completely right, as he so often was, though I didn’t always admit it. Him and me… thatwasperfection.
And when I really thought about it… there was nothing more special than every fucking day that we spent together. So what the hell kind of perfect moment was I waiting for?
“Boston can wait,” I confirmed, pulling him tightly against me. “But I’m warning you now, if you want a round two, we’re turning the damn rooster around.”
CHAPTER FOUR
GAGE
I found myself,sometime later that day, on the living room sofa, as late-afternoon sunlight streamed in the back window and Knox’s arms were wrapped around me.
Ordinarily, this would be a good thing. The best thing.
Who the fuck didn’t love sunshine? What dumbass would complain that the guy who’d starred in his lumberjack fantasies since long before they’d gotten together was sprawled on top of him? And who didn’t want to be lying down, especially when they’d spent the whole night tossing in bed, and then had not one but two very athletic rounds of makeup sex with the man they loved?
Unfortunately, though, certain things about this setup were less than ideal.
For one thing, the sunshine had turned the living room into a furnace, and my whole body was glistening despite the fan perched on the coffee table blowing directly at us.
For another, a man with Knox’s lumberjacky build was meant to be a mattress, not a weighted blanket. And for a third…
“This sofa is fucking killing me,” I whimpered.
My human blanket chuckled and squirmed like he was getting more comfortable. “Funny, I was thinking it’s actually much comfier now than it was last night.” Knox kissed my bare shoulder. “Not sure why that might be.”
I snorted and pushed at his chest. “Up, you behemoth. It’s going to take me seventy-two hours to fully inflate after having you flatten me.”
“Aw. Does that mean no round three?” he teased.
He rolled his hips, pushing our dicks together through the shorts we’d each thrown on after showering and, ah… finishing our other extracurricular shower activities. But when I felt the steel pipe in his pants, suddenly, I wondered if he was teasing.
“Wait, again? Oh, fuck,” I said, arching into him. The stretch made my overused muscles ache in the best way.
“You’re so easy, Goodman.” Laughing triumphantly, Knox pushed himself up and flopped onto his side, squeezing his bulk between me and the back of the sofa, with his chest to my back and his arms around me.
Pretty soon, his breathing evened out like he’d fallen asleep.
I smiled. I was perhaps one degree Fahrenheit cooler in this position since one of Knox’s long legs was still thrown over mine and his face was buried in my neck, but I didn’t protest. In fact, I folded my arms over his arms to lock them in place because the past twenty-four hours had been a bit… well, unsettling.
Enough to make a guy justifiably clingy.
To be perfectly clear, when I’d seen that job offer email yesterday, I hadn’t freaked out because I’d thought Knox would fuck off to Boston alone or force me to move either. My man wasn’t just gorgeous, intelligent, invariably grumpy, and shockingly witty; he was also loyal as fuck. Specifically, loyal to me and my happiness. More than that, he was in love with me and didn’t hesitate to show it.
We hadn’t talked about marriage recently, but… who cared, really? Rings and certificates and ceremonies weren’t a big deal when we were already each other’s best friend and emergency contact and when both of our names were on the deed to our house.
Besides, I wasn’t with Knox so I could have a wedding or a ring on my finger or any of that stuff. I was with Knox because I wanted to be with Knox, period. Saying I do in front of our friends and neighbors wouldn’t change that one way or another.
In fact, if I’d ever stopped to think about it—and I hadn’t—I’d have wanted us to keep doing what we’d been doing for the rest of our lives, albeit with a few more wrinkles and possibly some more nieces or nephews, if Webb and Luke ever stopped talking about it and got down to the business of giving Aiden siblings.
I mean, what more could a guy ask for, really?
I loved Little Pippin Hollow. I loved big family dinners with the Sundays, which rotated each week from house to house (or sometimes house to restaurant, when it was Jack and Hawk’s turn to host).
Loved bitching with Helena Fortnum about the flatlander invasion every autumn, now that I was a local.
