13. Brooks

CHAPTER 13

brOOKS

Crawling out of bed when Tate was wrapped in my sheets all soft and warm and smelling like cum was the worst kind of torture. But I started the coffee and went for a run, just like I did every other weekday morning. I was only gone for half an hour, and Tate was still breathing heavily with his face buried in my pillow when I returned. I knew he had work because he’d brought work clothes over with him the night before, but apparently his morning routine wasn’t as time intensive as mine.

I showered and dressed while he continued to sleep, and I was downstairs in the kitchen with my coffee when I heard the sharp trill of his alarm echo through my penthouse. Five minutes later, Tate’s feet appeared on the stairs, a pair of basketball shorts slung sinfully low on his hips. He shoved his hair away from his face and yawned, giving me an embarrassed little smile when he shuffled into the kitchen.

“Coffee?” I asked.

“Can I shower first?”

“You can do whatever you want,” I told him, setting my mug down on the counter and folding my arms in front of my chest.

“Can I have coffee in the shower?” he arched a brow, playful in his sleepiness.

“You can take your coffee in the shower,” I confirmed. “You can take it in the bath and I’ll wash every inch of your body before getting you dressed if that’s what you want too.”

Tate swallowed, suddenly far more awake than he’d been moments before.

“Too much?” I asked, reaching again for my coffee.

“Maybe just enough,” he said softly. “But I’ll stick with shower then coffee for now.”

“As you wish. Can you find your way around up there?”

He nodded.

“I’ll be here when you’re ready for coffee then.”

Tate gave me an odd and lingering look before he turned and headed back up the stairs. I watched him go, sipping my coffee until I heard the shower turn on in my en suite. Letting out a breath that I’d been holding since I realized I couldn’t read the look on his face, I wondered if my last comment had gone too far.

It was one thing to dote and tend to a partner after sex, but maybe first thing in the morning might have been a little overwhelming. Tate’s reaction was just proof that he and I needed to have a clear conversation about what it meant for men like us to be together. Hopefully, he would have time when he got out of the shower, but if not, the conversation would at least keep until our date on Friday night.

Fifteen minutes later, Tate was downstairs again, dressed in a pair of charcoal gray, off-the-rack slacks and a white button-up. His hair was still damp, dripping down his temples, but he didn’t seem to have a care in the world about it. I made a mental note he didn’t have his overnight bag in hand, but he did have hot pink socks on his feet, and his toes curled around the rungs on the stool as he sat at the island and gestured for me to pass him his coffee.

“When do you have to leave for work?” I asked.

“From here?” Tate glanced over his shoulder at Manhattan, sprawling out below us. “Probably not for a while. It takes a bit longer from home.”

“Thank you for coming over last night, “ I said, refilling my own coffee. “I know it wasn’t planned.”

“It wasn’t a hardship.” He smiled, tipping his chin toward his chest. “Are we still going out this weekend?”

“Yes.”

His cheeks burned a gorgeous and bright pink, and he nodded quickly, lifting his mug to his mouth and taking a drink.

“Will you stay the whole weekend?”

“If you like,” Tate whispered.

“If you like.”

“I think I would like,” he said, setting his coffee down and framing the mug with both of his hands. He let out a choked-off laugh, then shook his head and bored holes into the counter with his eyes. “I’m sorry I’m being so awkward.”

“Why don’t you just tell me the why of it?”

“You make me want,” he said quickly, pulling his teeth between his lips and turning that sharp and focused intensity on me.

“I don’t think that’s inherently a problem.”

The feeling was mutual because to say that Tate made me want…it was hardly enough of a descriptor. Tate was th e first person in a very long time who made me feel like I could have , which was just as potent and ten times more dangerous.

“Is it just you and me? Together, I mean.”

“Are you asking me if I’m sleeping with other people?”

Tate worked his jaw back and forth like the question hurt him. “Yes.”

“It’s just you and me,” I answered. “I have to warn you that I don’t share well.”

He cut me off before I could finish the thought. “I don’t want you to share.”

“This is as good a time as any to tell you that I’m not interested in something fleeting, Tate. This…the way I am…it doesn’t wear off. This is me and that isn’t going to change a month from now or a year from now. I know that can be int?—”

“I like it,” he cut me off again.

“Intense,” I finished, sucking in a much needed breath. “Are you going to like it once the novelty wears off?”

“I spent the past six months spending far more time than I’d ever admit out loud thinking about you. The way I want you…it hasn’t changed,” he said, swallowing nervously. He sucked down a swallow of coffee and then dropped the mug down onto the counter with a little more force than would have been inherently necessary, but it was a hard conversation. At least he was sitting down.

I leaned against the counter, legs crossed at the ankle and knees threatening to give up and send me to the floor. “That sounds settled then.”

I wanted to trust it, but it was hard to believe that Tate wouldn’t eventually follow in Tyler’s footsteps. The novelty always wore off, sooner or later, and all I could do was trust and hope that Tate knew himself better than the men who’d come before him. That there was truth in his promises, where everyone else had fallen short.

“Would it be presumptuous to ask you to go get tested?” I asked.

Anger flashed across Tate’s face, and he shoved the mug away from him, mouth pulled into a tight frown. “Are you worried I have something?”

I chuckled at his indignation, scratching the side of my chin.

“No, darling,” I assured him, “I just want to fuck you raw and come inside of you.”

“Oh,” he rasped.

Something tight and hot constricted in the center of my chest, and I watched helpless as Tate pushed the stool back from the counter. He stood somewhat awkwardly, all gangly limbs, then he went to the window, staring out at the city waking up all around us.

“How do you afford this place?” he asked, still staring out the window.

“My parents are rich.”

“Are you not?”

“They’re richer than me,” I said, setting my mug on the island next to Tate’s. “I wouldn’t have anything if it wasn’t for them.”

“Oh,” he said softly.

“Is my money an issue?” I came across the room to stand beside him, shoulder to shoulder, and he glanced at me from the corner of his eye, expression almost wary, but not guarded .

“I live in a two bedroom apartment the same size as your kitchen. Is that an issue?”

“I want to say as long as your apartment has a bed I can fuck you in, it doesn’t make a single bit of difference to me where you live, but I don’t even need a bed, so…”

Tate scoffed, shaking his head, but it was enough to wash all the apprehension from his face.

“I need to get going to work,” he mumbled, finally looking at me.

“Before you go.” I held my arms open and he walked right into them like he belonged there. “To summarize.”

Tate laughed and rocked his forehead against my shoulder. I curled my hand around the back of his neck, massaging at the bent muscles. I loved that he was taller than me, but yielded just the same.

“It’s just you and me,” I said, talking my way back through the rest of our conversation. “We’re hoping to soon forego condoms, and I don’t need a bed to fuck you.”

“That sounds about right,” he whispered, rolling his head to the side and dropping the softest kiss against the thin swatch of skin behind my ear.

I tightened my arms around him, letting my fingers splay our against the small of his back and stray down toward his ass.

“I’ll go get tested on my lunch break,” I said.

“I’ll find a place.”

His cock twitched against my hip.

“Eager much?” I teased, pushing against his growing erection before reluctantly working my way out of his arms and putting some necessary space between us. I could have spent every hour of every day naked with Tate, but I didn’t want to interfere with his job or his income. Nor would I force my own money on him unless he asked for it.

“Six months, Brooks,” he muttered, reaching down and adjusting himself. “You have a lot of lost time to make up for.”

I threw my head back and laughed, kicking at his sock-clad toe before heading back into the kitchen for another refill of my coffee. Tate grinned at me, then went back upstairs, undoubtedly for his shoes. Instead of joining me again in the kitchen, he made a turn in the other direction and went for the living room. I followed after him, enjoying the sight of him making himself at home in my home.

“How many bedrooms?” he asked, tying up the laces on his left shoe.

“Four.”

“Bathrooms?”

“Five,” I answered.

“I’ve never understood why expensive homes have more bathrooms than bedrooms,” he said, setting to work on his other shoe.

“Variety is the spice of life, I imagine.”

Tate let out a breath and stood up, smoothing his hands over the front of his slacks, no doubt checking for any visible sign of the erection that I hoped hadn’t already gone down.

“What time do you leave for work?” he asked.

I checked my watch, frowning. “Normally, half an hour ago.”

“Oh, my God.” His eyes went wide and he patted down his pockets, spinning around like a little tornado in the middle of my living room. “You’re late.”

“I’m also the boss,” I reminded him. “I can stay home and work from my office here if that’s what I want.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“The spice of life, or something like that.” I shrugged. “Today I’m going in because I have a meeting with a local charity and one of their donors, and also because I have to go slip in to see my doctor around noon.”

Tate hummed, a nervous smile flashing across his face.

“I don’t even know what you do for work,” he said.

“Admittedly, whatever I want. But I have too much money and too much time. I help facilitate relationships between other rich assholes and charities in need.”

“That doesn’t sound like it pays well.”

“It doesn’t.” I grinned. “That’s why it’s a good thing my parents are rich. Come on, I’ll head out with you. Just give me five minutes.”

Tate nodded and flung himself back down onto the couch with a groan. It was a comfortable couch, shaped like an elongated kidney bean, that I’d spent many nights sleeping on, curled up in the opposite direction and tucked against the back of it. That had been years before, though, and now all I wanted to do was bend Tate over the back of it and rail him to within an inch of consciousness.

Instead, I went upstairs and put on my shoes.

Tate had made my bed, which…riled up a whole new host of feelings I would have to process after my meeting with Boston, Ford, and Boston’s best friend, Shawn.

Before I could overthink anything, or worse, warn myself off, I took the stairs down two at a time. As soon as Tate came back into my line of sight, I could breathe again. He hadn’t moved from the couch, and he stared out the window, expression a little awestruck as he fidgeted with the sleeve of his shirt.

“Are you ready?” I asked.

He stood quickly, like I’d caught him with his hand in the cookie jar. “Yep.”

“Everything okay?” I asked, gesturing toward the front door with a jerk of my head.

“Very,” he said, and I believed him.

“Overwhelming?”

“Sometimes.”

“For me too,” I said, holding out my hand. “Time for work, Tate. Let’s go.”