Page 58 of For Your Heart
“Love you,” I whisper.
Declan leans his forehead against mine. “Love you.”
“Let’s go find our date.”
The excitement that rushes through me is compounded by Declan’s matching enthusiasm. Leaving the bathroom, we head into our bedroom to find Simon looking at his reflection with a frown. But fuck, I’m breathless.
We’re colored for the rainbow. I’m wearing a red tie with orange seams lining my black tux over a white shirt. Declan wears a green tie with yellow seams. And Simon is wearing a purple tie with blue seams. We’ve covered all six colors in the flag.
But fucking hell, the hard-on in my tight pants that offer no give at seeing this man in a fucking tux is painful. The way he fills it out, his broad shoulders and dark eyes under his dark bronze hair. Jesus, I’m going to bust just staring at him.
Simon’s gaze meets ours in the mirror, and he smiles before turning. “You’re hot,” he says, winking.
I laugh. A breathless sound at the fact he has no idea what he does to me. My brother and I pull him in, trapping him between us and press our mouths to his neck. Simon chuckles, but his body is completely lax in our arms. His complete trust in us, in the way we touch him, how absolutely comfortable and at ease he is with us, only make me fall for him more every single second of every damn day.
“Ready?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” he says and glances at the mirror, his brows furrowing. “Do I look okay?”
“Really?” I ask, frowning.
He meets my eyes and, yes, he’s serious.
“Simon, you’re fucking gorgeous,” Declan says, pulling his face around and planting a kiss on his lips.
“You’re not biased at all,” Simon mutters, but wraps his arms around Declan all the same. “If I were wearing a dishrag, you’d say the same thing. It’s a requirement of being my best friend.”
“No, if you were wearing a dishrag, we’d be saying you’re gorgeous for an entirely different reason. And you’d know it to be true by the twin tents in our pants,” he says, making Simon laugh. He thinks we’re just horny gay boys, and that’s why we’re always turned on around him. On some level, I suppose he’s not wrong. But the thing about Simon is we can tell him the absolute truth, and he just doesn’t get it.
“You look amazing every day,” I say at the shell of his ear. He shivers at my breath on his skin. “But you really are breathtaking right now. I had no idea how good you’d look in a tux. I’m dying to take it off you later.”
He laughs and closes his eyes. “Thanks.”
See? I’m completely honest and he just doesn’t get it. Which is remarkable becausewe willbe undressing him later. We always do.
Our parents take the obligatory pictures and then we head out in the limo we rented. It’s the first real thing we’ve ever spent our own money on. A limo that we’ve rented for like eight hours. Or did we settle on ten? Twelve? Hell if I know.
We only plan to stay at prom for an hour. Then we’re heading to the beach where we’re going to do just what we said and strip Simon to his damn underwear and cuddle nearly naked under the stars.
We’ve danced with Simon before. Individually and together. Not just at school dances, but at home. We went to our first gay club the other weekend once we turned eighteen and Jesus, I’ve never been so damn hard in my entire young life. So many hot men, nearly naked, gyrating all over each other.
Better yet, Simon didn’t care in the least that we wanted to dance with him like that. He danced sandwiched between us. And I think he even had fun. Though he was constantly telling others he wasn’t interested and that he’s not gay. Yeah, I’m sure that looked really convincing, given that he was flattened between two men with their hands all over him.
But there was something different about this. It was slow and intimate. Despite how little we were moving, just rocking back and forth, with our hands mostly stationary, there was something seriously more surreal about this than dancing in the gay club. Or laying in bed together. Showering together.
I wasn’t sure what it was, but with a fleeting glance and meeting my brother’s eyes, I knew he felt it, too. Of course, he did. After a while, our hands tangled together, my brother’s and mine. And with Simon between us, we stayed at prom longer than we intended.
Not that we didn’t have fun laying under the stars later and pressing kisses to Simon’s lips until the sun started to rise. But nothing would ever trump those dances at prom. Nothing.
Nineteen
SAGE
I’m notsure why I’m so desperate. My cock aches so painfully there are tears in my eyes. But I do know. It’s because Damon’s been here every night this week, and he hasn’t put his dick in me. He hasn’t tied me up and fucked me until I can’t see straight, denying my orgasm until it’s torture.
He’s been spending time with me, and I love every minute of it. We don’t talk about anything specific as we do one of my puzzles or watch television. It’s a nice, comfortable companionship. He answers whatever I dare to ask.
It’s like we’re getting to know each other. I keep trying to tell myself that friends do that and this is not the beginning of something else. I try to make myself believe that. I do believe it. Everything inside of me wants it to mean more than that.
