1. Zane

Let the record reflect—living with Maddox is the best.

So is our new deck on our new home. It boasts a view of the Golden Gate Bridge and the Pacific Ocean beyond.

Every morning—okay, late morning since I am a late riser—

I wander out onto it, stretch, and soak in the expansive view of a place where I live with the love of my life.

Some mornings—if he’s not traveling or already up and at his office—my guy joins me.

Like today, on an overcast, gray Sunday in February, with the fog still snaking through the city midmorning, Maddox steps onto the balcony, carrying two mugs, steam wafting off the tops of both.

I arch a brow in question as he hands me a mug.

“Green tea. I picked up some from a client the other day who swears by it,” he says. “I thought of you and the day we spent in Venice when we were just getting to know each other.”

Fond memories snap before my eyes. That was a good day. A tempting one though. “The day I wanted to take you to my room? Wait. That’s every day. Go on,” I say.

He smiles, then takes a sip of his tea. “When we went to the coffee shop. Edge and Plow and said you never said you didn’t like tea. Just that you drank it once and it was too hot and that turned you off. I thought you might like to try it again if it’s made properly.”

“And of course you made it properly,” I say, because that’s his style. That’s how Maddox does things. He does everything well. And my dude is just too good to me.

“You made me tea,” I say, smiling. I inch closer, drop a kiss to his nose then step back. “I’ll keep you.”

Maddox rolls his eyes, then takes another drink. I lift my mug, sniff it, then take a gulp too. “Mmm. Not bad.”

“I guess sometimes it’s good to try new things,” he says. “But no pressure.”

I take another gulp, and I do like it, the nutty flavor, the warmth. But mostly I appreciate the thought behind it. That he wanted to do something for me. Something sweet. Sliding next to him, I wrap an arm around Maddox and kiss his cheek. Then I catch a whiff of his hair and that ocean breeze scent that lights me up. I inhale deeply, savoring it. “Don’t try a new shampoo though,” I say, my voice already going raspy as my hunger for him intensifies.

He laughs softly, takes our mugs, and sets them on the table. “Don’t worry. I know what makes you tick, Zane.”

I groan. “You do,” I say, crowding him against the railing. I lean in closer, draw another hit of his hair, when a crystal clear realization dawns on me. Yes it’s his scent that I love, but it’s also not. It’s him . His scent drives me wild because he drives me wild. The way I feel for him. The way we feel for each other. That’s what turns me on.

“Actually, I’d be turned on if you tried a new scent. It’s you, Mad. You turns me on. And that won’t change.”

As I meet his lips I taste the lingering flavor of the tea and I think of trying new things. Ideas flicker through my head. Ideas that, admittedly, I’ve been contemplating a lot more lately.

Then, when I push against his body, feeling the hard length of him, that dormant desire wakes all the way up. There is something I’ve wanted to try for a while.

There’s a saying about climbing Mount Everest. It goes like this.

Why did you climb Mount Everest?

The answer?

Because it’s there.

Lately, that’s how I’ve been feeling, but I need to find just the right moment to broach the topic. Spring training starts soon so my time is ticking.