Page 147 of Seasons of Love
I’m not made of steel, so I look at the nice tent in his pants.
My mouth waters at the thought of finishing later what we started now. It’s with a lot less frustration toward Ellis, but a lot more of the sexual kind, that I grab the nail gun and go back to work.
I pretend not to watch Ellis through the kitchen doors as he puts together something for breakfast—or brunch since it’s close to eleven.
The way his pajama pants cling to his ass. The way he moves around the kitchen. The way he felt under me, on top of me. How he tasted.
I look up at the blue sky.
Am I dreaming, or is this really happening?
20
ELLIS
I crack the eggs into the bowl and set the whisk next to it. Next, I chop some mushrooms, peppers, and ham.
It’s a good thing my hands can work independently from my brain because it’s having a meltdown.
I kissed Milo.
Milo kissed me.
I put the knife down before a cut a finger off while remembering every second of that absolutely perfect kiss.
The way we fit together. The way Milo took charge was such an unexpected relief. How did he know that, more than anything, him taking control is the fast lane to me giving it all up?
My control, my sanity, my…fuck.
If I was confused yesterday about how I felt about Milo and if I should tell him or not. If I was afraid of being rejected by him…now it’s worse.
I look behind me toward the backyard and see he’s working with his usual focus. The base for the deck is almost done, but from where I stand, it’s like nothing happened. It’s like any other Saturday.
But there’s a stark difference now.
He hasn’t had the coffee and brunch I usually make for him yet.
Sara isn’t here today.
There are no more layers of protection between us.
We broke the seal on that grass, and now I don’t know if the lid will ever close again.
I’m too wired to think straight. To remember Harrison’s words or Tyler’s warnings.
My dick is so painfully hard. Telling me it’s been too long since I’ve used it properly and now it wants to feel more of Milo. Preferably without clothes.
“Fuck. I need clothes.” I look down at the tent in my loose pajama pants. “I definitely need clothes.”
Milo always lets me know when he arrives. Even if he doesn’t want to bother me, he places Sara on the play mat that is now permanently in my living room. The coffee table hasn’t gone back to its usual position in weeks.
So when I got up and came down to make myself a cup of coffee, I wasn’t expecting to see Milo already here and working. I completely forgot about what I was wearing or that I was barefoot.
I add more coffee to the filter and turn the coffee maker on before going up to my bedroom to put on more appropriate clothing, but when I get there, I don’t know what to do.
Do I go for the safe option? Jeans will keep my dick from starring in its own show.
I open the closet and take out a clean pair.
