back against Gabriel’s shoulder. He reached behind, gripping Gabriel’s hair, guiding his face near and sealing their mouths in a kiss. He pushed back, then forward into the fingers stretching him, his body matching the seductive slide of Gabriel’s tongue alongside his.
He broke away from the kiss, stealing a breath when Gabriel finally pushed inside him.
Ben turned his head to his side and his lips were captured again. He kissed Gabriel with everything he had as he pushed back into his body, needing his heat, the closeness, wanting to meld their bodies together. Hard or soft, slow or fast, every second with Gabriel was sheer perfection and another chance this man used to show Ben how much he loved him.
He clasped on to Gabriel’s forearm across his stomach for leverage, deepening the kiss, thankful each and every day for this blessing of a man who put up with his junk-food eating habits, endless eye rolling, and his unyielding requirement to have Gabriel taste test every cake variation he attempted to bake.
He reached up with his shaky fingers, touched Gabriel’s jaw, and then traced his finger down his neck.
I love you.
A split second later, he gasped with the powerful thrust into his body, filling him.
He grabbed the edge of the seat with one hand and reached behind with the other, grabbing Gabriel’s ass, bracing himself against the force of Gabriel’s pistoning hips.
This was what he had wanted earlier, to spend the night in a sweating heap of a mess with Gabriel suffocating his senses. But after the fireworks, every sense was heightened and every slide into his body more significant. It hadn’t been the lights in the sky or the vibrations resonating in his chest with each explosion that made tonight special. It was this man, his thoughtfulness, his heart, his generous soul, his goofy grin, and teasing smirk.
Gabriel always made him feel cherished.
Loved.
He gasped, whimpered, maybe even recited the alphabet. He wasn’t sure what sounds were rumbling up his throat and leaving him.
He screwed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth, not wanting this sweet torture to end. A split second later, his climax tore through him, twisting his body as sparks of light filled his vision in its own private fireworks display.
The weight of the body on him and the warm wet lips pressed against his neck kept him grounded.
Finally breaking free of the mental fog of bliss, he nuzzled closer to Gabriel, loving this man more than he ever thought possible, smiling at the goofy grin he loved so much that likely matched his own.
August
Bull crossed the threshold of the penthouse and locked the door behind him. It had been another long day. He glanced around. All Davenport hotel rooms looked the same—same colors, layout, same brand appliances and fixtures. All in an effort to increase familiarity and encourage people to return to a Davenport hotel while traveling.
It looked the same…but felt completely different.
In place of his simple glass worktable by the window sat a sleek dining room table for six. Behind it, instead of the ocean view, the city’s downtown landscape made its presence known through the floor-to-ceiling window. The scattering of lights in the tall buildings proved he wasn’t alone in the late hours of the night.
And yet, the weight of loneliness bore down on his shoulders.
Two days away from Ben felt like an eternity, and he was itching to hold him in his arms again. He was a sucker for the man…and damn proud of it if it meant he had Ben.
He emptied his pockets and set the items on the small side table, a habit he couldn’t seem to break even though he wasn’t home.
Home. He huffed out a laugh. It wasn’t about the penthouse.
More than a decade of never-ending travels around the world filled with once-in-a-lifetime experiences and beautiful sights didn’t compare to the comfort he felt at home because of the quiet man who waited there for him.
He glanced over at the pristine kitchen. Not a single pan or mixing bowl was visible. Or that ceramic bunny cookie jar that housed Ben’s cookies. Everything in the kitchen was polished, state of the art, and worthy of being showcased in a designer magazine.
Boring.
Sighing, he strolled into the bedroom, unbuttoning his dress shirt and slacks. He tossed the items over the chair by the small desk in the room and headed into the bathroom for a hot shower.
He closed his eyes under the spray of water, remembering the Fourth of July fireworks from several