Page 80 of Say It Again

“You,” he said, breathy, pinning Daniel to the couch, working the buttons undone on the satiny capris. “You’re so goddamn ridiculous.”

“Aww, you want to fuck me in the heels?”

Aaron nodded, leaning in to devour him in a kiss. “I want to fuck you in the heels—”

“Here’s the deal with that.” Daniel jammed a stiletto into his shoulder and pushed him back.

Aaron gasped, his mouth hanging open as he blinked down at it wide-eyed. How’d he even do that? It was more impressive than anything. It was a superpower to be so flexible.

“You and I are going to have a conversation about interior design. We are going to talk timeline and logistics. We are going to see what it would take.”

What a little shit. Aaron couldn’t help but growl as he smoothed a hand down Daniel’s leg.

“Yes?” Daniel held his gaze as he reached to stroke him over his jeans. “Do we have a deal?”

Of course, he’d gotten played, but he was also so hard his mouth was starting to water. “Deal.”

“You swear?”

“I swear.”

“Good boy.” Daniel wrapped his legs around his waist and yanked him into him. “Now, don’t stop until I’m shaking.”

AARON FOLLOWED Daniel up the walkway of his childhood home in quaint St. Charles, Missouri. Its A-frame and shades of avocado and institutional green screamed the peasant blouses and pet rocks of the 1970s.

Pink tea roses bloomed on either side of a wooden porch, where a tattered swing, once painted French vanilla, squeaked each time the wind blew. A wreath of blue ceramic birds hung on the door, and the faded doormat below their feet read “Welcome. I hope you brought chocolate.”

His palms were sweating. It was so official, meeting Daniel’s mom. Meeting Mr. Greene hadn’t been half this amount of pressure, because Daniel didn’t seem to value anything the guy said, but meeting his mom? Geez, the gravity. It was the proverbial rope in gym class.

Daniel tapped on the door a few times, then opened it, the aroma of garlic, toasted cheese, and something nutty hitting them. Daniel was sweet to hold his hand the way he did, even though it was sweating as he led him into the kitchen where semisheer curtains veiled the windows, “Brown Eyed Girl” played on a Bluetooth speaker, and mismatched ceramic jars lined the counters, each reading Cookies in different fonts.

“Hi, Mama,” Daniel said, his smile at full tilt.

Daniel’s mom spun around from the oven and gasped. “Honey! I didn’t hear you come in.”

She clutched bagged shredded cheese with one hand, her chest with the other, and she barely reached Daniel’s shoulder in height. They had the same hair, the same eyes, except hers were shielded by tortoiseshell glasses. She pushed up on her toes and gripped him into a hug.

“Oh my goodness, when was the last time you ate?” She sandwiched Daniel’s torso with her hands. “Oh, honey. This is not good.”

“Mom, I’ve literally been the same weight for like twelve years. This is Aaron.”

Here we go. He offered his hand. “Such a pleasure to meet you. You go by Barbara?”

“Jiminy Crickets, look at you.” From where she stood, she looked like a toddler begging to be picked up with her arms outstretched.

He leaned down so she could hug him too.

“Dancake,” she shrieked in Aaron’s ear, still hugging him. “You couldn’t find someone just the least bit attractive?” She released him to chuckle at herself, a very Daniel thing to do. “Well, I can see why you’re smitten with this one. Like a more handsome JKF Junior, aren’t ya, Aaron?”

“You’re kind.”

“And call me Barbie.”

He matched her bright-eyed smile and softened a little. How approachable. How engaging. Like her son.

“JFK Jr. is one of those names I’ve heard, but I have no idea who they are,” Daniel said. “Is it an Olympic swimmer? Why do I feel like that’s a swimmer?”

“Oh, don’t worry about it, sweetie.” Then she leaned in toward Daniel and whispered from the side of her mouth, “All you need to know is he was a very steamy human—so Aaron! Glad you’re here. Pour yourselves some wine. Butchie won’t drink the moscato with me.”

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