Page 53 of Ethan

I smiled at him. "Late night?" He looked tired. I'd slept over, holding him until he had to wake, crawling away from me before the sun came up. We'd had a few hours of sleep together.

Ethan snorted and laughed. "No, someone kept me up too late."

Still in my arms, I rocked him back and forth. "I thought you liked to be up."

"I do, but my cock has no common sense when it comes to you."

I patted his ass. "Do you need me to help you pack up these goodies?"

"Yup." Ethan pulled away and went back to the table he had been working at. "One item per bag." I joined him and we worked together packing everything.

I helped him carry three small boxes to his car.

I'd driven past the notorious section of Pandora before, where we were headed. When Ethan told me he delivered leftover baked goods there twice a week, I had tumbled further for him.

Baseline, Ethan was simply a nice guy. He had multiple layers of the quality.

We pulled onto a slip road, smack in the middle of the chaos. People wandered back and forth in front of Ethan's car, some looking like disheveled shuffling zombies as we tried to drive to where there was enough room to park. A fear response shivered up my spine.

I had to check it. Ethan did this twice a week. He wouldn't if it was dangerous.

I hoped.

We pulled in across the road from what looked to be the main building. My passenger door was nearly pressed against an encampment tent's wall. I managed to squeeze out.

Just to the left of the doors to the building, an enormous truck with the city's logo on the side was parked. Standing on the sidewalk, a man with a giant pressure washer nozzle, intense noisy spray, washing down the dirty pavement. There was garbage everywhere and it was all being washed onto the street; I'm assuming to be picked up by city maintenance workers.

"Just look past it," Ethan said. "There aren't enough garbage cans out here." He nudged me and I followed him inside the building into an open foyer; a large table at one end and a bank of plexiglass I assumed shielded the workers beyond.

"Hey, sunshine man!" One section of plexiglass slid open. Out peered a burly, red-haired bearded man, a smile beaming on his face as if he was seeing his best friend in the world.

Sunshine man?

I smiled. It suited Ethan.

"Mostly muffins today," said Ethan as he walked to the table. The man emerged from a doorway near it. I followed with my two boxes, set them down, and began lifting the individual paper bags out and arranging them the same as Ethan was doing.

Ethan touched my arm. "Daniel, this is Vincent. He runs the place." He stepped closer and put his head on my shoulder. "Vincent, this is Daniel." He kissed my cheek. "My guy."

My guy?

My heart fluttered with excitement. Had we come that far? We'd only been seeing each other for a few weeks. In those weeks, something unexpected was happening between us. We were molding together into a single beating heart. I had an issue, though. And it was a huge one.

During a break in our sex marathon after Ethan did that photo shoot, he told me how Carlos had wanted to fuck him and that he'd turned him down because of me.

Shockingly, I'd felt at odds with his decision. Not that I was afraid of Ethan taking a step toward commitment with me. I wanted that. All of that. I wanted to be his guy. What bothered me was that Ethan had turned down an opportunity to have a little fun and be made to feel good.

The emotion had made me realize something.

I wanted the world for him, and I'd be arrogant to think I could give him that on my own. Feeling this way, considering an open relationship was new to me. Ethan was such a free spirit; I didn't want to pin him down. It would be like clipping the wings of a butterfly to keep it. It would be cruel and destructive to the beauty that had drawn me to Ethan in the first place.

It was a topic we were going to need to discuss as we became more serious.

"Pleasure to meet you," I said to Vincent and shook his hand. "You have your hands full here."

Vincent smiled at me. "Day by day."

"Bakery … man!" A loud slurring voice filled the room. Dragging an overstuffed duffel bag with him was a man with a mohawk who looked like he'd been dragged through the mud. It had been raining, so that was to be expected given he was probably sleeping outside.

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