Page 66 of Our Final Game

“Rohan, I’ve been inside you. Get in.”

“That’s not the point,” he says, swallowing, a blush spreading across his cheek. There’s no way he’s being this coy right now.

“Come here.”

“I will just give me a minute,” Rohan mumbles, the silk robe wrapped around his body falling off his shoulder.

Fuck.

“Now. Before the water cools,” I say, firm in my tone.

“Listen, just because we fucked doesn’t mean you get to tell me what to do, Ty!” he snaps, of course he does. That’ll never change, and I hope it doesn’t cause it makes me want him more.

I summon shadows and tendrils to undo the ties of his robe. Rohan gasps, too slow to fix himself.

“You’re a fucking prick,” he says, trying to hold the little fabric together with his fingers.

“Get in.”

“Okay, okay,” he whispers before letting the silk fall completely away from his pretty body and padding his way to the edge of the tub. I watch him slip his first foot in and then the next before sitting all the way down, opposite of me.

“Why the fuck are you all the way over there?” I ask, pulling him by the arm and positioning him between my legs, his back against my chest.

“You’re so rough, Ty.”

“That’s what you like though,” I smirk against his ear.

“Mmm, maybe,” he mutters, leaning his head against my shoulder. I can’t believe how fucking gorgeous he is. Especially up close.

I’m a lucky guy.

“Is your hair dyed?” I ask.

“My hair? No, idiot, what?” Rohan giggles. I love it when he laughs like that. Make it a new goal to make it happen more.

“I don’t know, it’s kinda golden. I’ve never seen this color before. Not natural anyway.”

“Golden? It’s like a sandy brown,” he says, trying to pull one of his strands to look at it. “But I guess gold too?”

“Yeah, I always thought it was pretty against your skin.”

“Oh, um, thank you,” Rohan mutters, biting his bottom lip, his ears turning red.

“Me and my mom have the same hair … we’re the only ones with it in my family.”

“That’s cute.”

“What about your mom? You actually never mentioned her. Do you look like her?” Rohan asks, the question innocent, but I can’t help flinching.

“She … passed. And I don’t think I look much like her, more like my dad unfortunately. My brother does, though. It’s kinda comforting to see her eyes when I look at him.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Ty … I didn’t know.” His eyes soften.

“It’s okay. It was a while ago. She died when I was a teenager,” I say, solemnly playing in his hair, “She would’ve loved you though.”

“You think so?” he asks, chuckling. “I know so. She probably would’ve dragged you everywhere with her.”

“Well, I’d understand that. I am the best you’ve ever had, probably,” Rohan says, kissing my cheek softly. I laugh brightly and nip his ear.