I writhed, the feel of him so good it hurt.
He kept me pinned, opened and defenseless, using me as I’d used him, his control shattered by the need to orgasm. The power of his body as he pounded into me, the force with which he drove his cock into my tender sex, had me quivering on the verge again.
“I love you,” I moaned, my hands stroking down his flexing thighs.
He growled my name and started coming, his teeth clenching, his hips pressed tight to my own, screwing deep. It set me off, the feel of him coming inside me.
“So good,” he groaned, rocking into the spasms of my sex.
We strained together, grasping at each other.
He buried his face in my throat. “Love you.”
Tears stung my eyes. He said the words so rarely.
“Tell me again,” I begged, holding on to him.
His mouth found mine. “I love you …”
“MORE,” I demanded, licking my lips.
Gideon glanced over his shoulder at me. Bacon sizzled in the pan in front of him and my mouth watered for another slice. “And here I’d thought two packs of bacon would last us all weekend.”
“Grease is a must after a night of drinking,” I told him, wiping some off my plate with my fingertip and lifting it to my mouth. “When you’re not hung over, that is.”
“Which I am,” Cary muttered, walking into the kitchen in just his jeans, which he hadn’t bothered buttoning all the way. “Got any beer?”
Gideon pointed at the fridge with his tongs. “Bottom drawer.”
I shook my head at my best friend. “Hair of the dog this morning?”
“Hell, yeah. My head feels like it’s splitting in two.” Cary pulled a beer out and joined me at the island. He popped the cap off and tipped the bottle back, gulping down half the contents at once.
“How’d you sleep?” I asked, mentally crossing my fingers.
He’d stayed the night in the attached single-bedroom apartment, and I hoped he loved it. It had all the beautiful prewar details of Gideon’s penthouse and was furnished similarly. I knew Cary’s style was more contemporary, but he couldn’t fault the view of Central Park. All the rest could be changed, if he just said the word.
He lowered the bottle from his mouth. “Like the dead.”
“Do you like the apartment?”
“Of course. Who wouldn’t?”
“Do you want to live there?” I persisted.
Cary gave me a lopsided smile. “Yeah, baby girl. It’s a dream. Thank you for the pity fuck, Gideon.”
My husband turned away from the stove with a plate of bacon in his hand. “There is neither pity nor fucking included in the offer,” he said dryly. “Otherwise, you’re welcome.”
I clapped my hands. “Yay! I’m stoked.”
Gideon snagged a piece of bacon and stuck it in his mouth. Leaning forward, I parted my lips. He bent toward me, letting me bite off the end.
“Come on,” Cary groaned. “I’m fighting nausea as it is.”
I shoved him gently. “Shut up.”
He grinned and finished his beer. “Gotta give you guys a hard time. Who else is going to stop you two from singing ‘I Got You, Babe’ in a few years?”
Thinking of Will and Natalie made me smile. I’d discovered even more to like about Will and found that I got along well with his girl, too. “Aren’t they adorable? They’ve been together since high school.”
“Exactly my point,” he drawled. “Spend enough years with someone and either you start bickering or you fall down the lovey-dovey hole, never to be seen again.”
“Mark and Steven have been together for years, too,” I argued. “They don’t fight or moon at each other.”
He shot me a look. “They’re gay, Eva. No estrogen in the mix to cause drama.”
“Oh my God. You sexist pig! You did not just say that.”
Cary glanced at Gideon. “You know I’m right.”
“And with that,” Gideon declared, grabbing three strips of bacon, “I’m out.”
“Hey!” I complained after him, as he exited to the living room.