and we had to go walk around and talk to that horrible woman in a hairpiece—”
“That was a man.”
“—and try the food and try the cake and then you didn’t like the cake so we had to try another one and then you weren’t sure so we had to go back the next weekend and—”
Somers’s eyes were wide and blue, and his lower lip was trembling. “Please?”
“You are a bad person,” Hazard said, stabbing a finger at him. He was vaguely aware that his being naked was undermining his moral high ground. “This is where Evie gets it from, by the way. Fine. We will go look at another venue.”
“I just love you so much and want to make you happy.”
“I assume this is why you took a day off work. You didn’t just want to tell me?”
“You’re all I think about. I just want everything to be perfect for you on our wedding day.”
“Which we’ll have to move back now because venues book up so quickly,” Hazard snapped. “And you seduced me completely wrong, by the way.”
“Wrong?” Somers said. “Hey!”
Hazard dropped to his knees, forced Somers backward until Somers was sitting against the cabinets, and straddled his legs. He yanked down Somers’s jeans and underwear; Somers was hard and wet. Hazard took him in hand. He knew what Somers liked, and he gave it to him, watching as Somers’s lips parted, as his pupils dilated, as another flush ran through his face. Hazard stopped, his grip locked tight.
“Tell me again,” Hazard said quietly.
“I just thought you’d like this place—”
“Not that.”
Somers’s eyes were glassy, and he bucked, trying to move in Hazard’s grip. Hazard held him too tightly. He caught Somers’s chin with his free hand and held his gaze. He could feel the tremors running through the blond man.
“Tell me again,” Hazard whispered.
“I love you.”
“Good,” Hazard said, still locking gazes as he began to pump his hand. When Somers tried to throw his head back, Hazard clutched his jaw and pinned him against the cabinets. “Right here,” he said. “Stay with me.”
It was intense, even for Hazard. He could imagine what it felt like for Somers—the eye contact, the stimulation.
“Tell me again,” Hazard said.
“Oh Christ, I love you so much.”
“Good boy.”
Somers whined.
“Tell me again.”
“Ree, I love you. I love you. I love you.”
“Very good boy.” Hazard’s hand was moving faster: the pressure in the right places, the tightness, the slight rotations and twists he knew worked best. “You love me?”
“Uhhh.”
“You love me, John?”
“Yes, God, yes.”
“You love me so much you won’t make me go to another venue after today?”
“Yes, I swear to God, yes.”
“Good boy, really good. And you love me so much you’ll finish the patio this weekend?”
Somers was trying to nod, but Hazard’s vise grip prevented him.
“Words,” Hazard said.
“Yes,” Somers moaned.
“Good boy. I think you need to come. Do you need to come?”
Another frantic attempt at nodding.
Hazard moved his hand faster. “Come.”
Somers rutted up into his touch and came.
The blond man was still gasping, slumped against the counters, when Hazard scooted closer and kissed him. And then kissed him again. And then again, turning Somers’s face lightly with one hand, kissing every inch he could reach. When he got to Somers’s ear, he whispered, “Very good boy,” one last time, and then he stood.
Somers groaned; it sounded like pure satisfaction.
“And that, John, is how you seduce someone: make your demands before you get them off. Now get up and let’s shower so we can go see this fucking venue.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
OCTOBER 24
THURSDAY
10:13 AM
WHERE THE FUCK are we?” Hazard asked as they drove mile after mile along a state highway he’d never taken before. Oaks and maples and pines whipped past on either side. The leaves were bright this year: vibrant reds and oranges, the result of the long, hot summer. The windows were down, and the day was perfect: cool, but just warm enough with the sunshine. The fragrance of sap and balsam and crisp autumn leaves drifted through the car.
“It’s just a little farther.” Somers showed his phone. “The next right.”
“And we are going to choose a completely new venue because, let me see if I understood this correctly, Hershel Gromman, your father’s ninety-seven-year-old accountant, who is retired and whom I did not even know we were inviting to our wedding, needs a special pureed diet that the last place cannot accommodate.”
“He’s my father’s favorite accountant. Oh, and because it’s bigger. My parents brought me another hundred names they insist we include at the ceremony.”