Cupcakes and Christmas - R.J. Scott Page 0,69

teased, but he opened his eyes and leaned forward, taking my hand again.

“I had to share you at the springs, today I had you all to myself.” He was so earnest, his azure eyes clear, his hand tightened on mine. “I liked that. For the first time ever I wanted that.”

“Oh.”

He huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Yep, it’s intense, I know.”

“Cute,” I finished what I was going to say, and he wrinkled his nose.

“You think I’m cute?” he deadpanned.

“I didn’t say you were cute, I meant what you said was cute,” I teased in return, and he squeezed my hand.

“Ass. So what do you have planned for tomorrow for the wedding theme?” He waggled his eyebrows theatrically. “Because you’re the wedding king, and I need to steal your ideas.”

I ignored the pull inside at being labeled the wedding king when I was now officially divorced, so I leaned in to him and lowered my voice. “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

He clutched his chest in mock horror. “I thought I knew you.”

“Actually, I’m incorporating chocolate work, which I’m dreading.”

“You’ll easily win,” he reassured me. “I’m sticking to a theme of ice for the cupcakes and the wedding cake showpiece.”

“That’s a clever take on seasonal. Mine is more flowery, so I hope I pull it off because it gets so hot in the room, and the chocolate work is detailed.”

We talked for so long about everything and nothing, and I made him laugh with stories about growing up in my madhouse family, and he told me about all the stupid that was involved in marketing products. We wandered through the Fairmont, staring in the small shops that sold items I would never spend money on, and then we were finally at the elevators.

“Jeremy?” His finger hovered over the button for his floor. He looked at me and crooked a grin. What I wanted to say was that I’d rather we used some of the stuff we picked up today, preferably in his suite, but I guess he was right. We needed to check on Jeremy then we should really head to bed after. Separately. Tomorrow was important.

“Yeah.”

The path was empty again, the darkness all consuming, broken only by the lamps, and it was a space for secrets and kisses and more joy than I thought possible. For a moment, I wonder if I’d been drugged because I wasn’t sure I’d felt this happy being with a guy before. This wasn’t like my time with Marc. This was shiny and bright and hopeful.

With Jeremy fixed, we headed back in to the warmth of the indoors and then to the elevator, and again I was offered a choice, only this time Justin tugged me close and kissed me. We both knew what we’d been working up to all day, and the thought of going to my own room now was hell.

“You wanna?” he asked with his crooked grin that made everything right.

All the laughter from today and the sheer joy of being together made me step into his arms.

“Hell yeah.”

Chapter Nineteen

You can’t buy happiness, but you can buy cake, and that’s kind of the same thing

Justin

“I guess you should know I haven’t been with anyone seriously since Marc.” Brody stated this as soon as the door to my room shut and closed us off from the world. He sounded embarrassed and cautious, but I decided that walking him backward while kissing the life out of him was a significantly good way to show him how sexy that was. I couldn’t believe how possessive I felt and honored that he was interested in me. We met at the bed, sprawling onto the cover, and I had to break the kisses and stare down at the man who was sex personified, at the one person who had managed to push through the wall I’d erected around myself. Soft lamplight highlighted his skin, shadows on the planes of his body that I wanted to explore.

“For real?” I asked, not because I didn’t believe him but because I was the luckiest man alive.

“Seeing him with another man broke me, I think. It’s been a year since I’ve had someone inside me.”

Brody was risking everything by telling me this, and I bet he half expected me to roll off and call it a night, but I was taking my own risks tonight in showing Brody what he meant to me, and I refused to let him think it mattered.

“I wish I