Page 22 of Loving You

“This is it. It’s not much.”

Bronx surveyed the room, his brow furrowed. His face was so expressive, and Monty’s mouth went a little dry thinking of how expressive he might get later. His cock twitched.

“You play?”

Monty followed his gaze to his upright piano. “Euh…yes, but I’m not very good. My mother had this idea that I was going to be an overaccomplished genius because I walked and talked early. Music and my brain never quite got along. None of the arts really took.”

Bronx turned, then closed the distance between them. “Some say debate is an art.”

Monty shivered at the sound of his low voice. “Debate?”

Lifting his hand, Bronx slowly cupped Monty’s cheek, his thumb brushing over his jaw. “Arguing law in court.”

“Ah. I think you’ll be disappointed to know that my job is nothing like they show on TV.”

“Mm, I’ve seen it. My ex fucked off most of our hearings, but his lawyer was always there. And it might not be as dramatic as it is on TV, but it’s still a skill a lot of people don’t have. Mine got me everything I asked for.”

“Rightfully so,” Monty murmured.

Bronx’s eyebrows lifted, and he tipped his head lower. “You think so? What if I’m the liar and my ex is the good man who got screwed.”

Huffing a laugh, Monty shook his head. Bronx was so close he could smell his cologne, feel his heat. He struggled to stay present and not give in to his urge to climb the man like a tree. “Your brother has a big mouth. I know the details. I stand by what I said.”

“Now I’m really turned on,” Bronx said, then leaned in and took Monty’s lips in a firm, almost furious kiss. His mouth was lush, tongue warm and wet. He tasted a little bit like his beer and a lot like the spices from his meal.

Monty groaned loudly as Bronx backed him up toward the wall, and he got a little light-headed as blood rushed toward his cock. “We should definitely take this to the bedroom,” he gasped, breaking the kiss.

Bronx nodded, but instead of moving away, he dug his fingers into Monty’s sides and laved wet, biting kisses along his neck. Fuck, it was good. It was too good. Monty wanted more—wanted everything. But he knew if he wanted to be safe, he needed to get somewhere with a soft landing.

“Please.”

Bronx pulled away, lifting Monty’s hands in his own, and he kissed across his knuckles. “Okay. Sorry. I just…I really like you.”

“You sound surprised. Should I be insulted?”

Bronx let one hand go to cup Monty’s chin. “No. All the weirdness is me. It felt like my heart and my dick were turned off for a while.”

“And something changed?”

“Yeah.” Bronx pulled him in for a kiss, then murmured against his lips, “Then I met you.”

Monty swooned. Literally. The world tipped sideways for a second, and his heart pounded. He needed to get vertical. Taking a breath, he tugged on Bronx’s hand, then ducked under his arm and pulled him down the deceptively large hallway and through the bedroom door.

It was a little messy. He’d left in a hurry when his car had shown up early, but he didn’t think Bronx was going to notice or care. Not with the way he was devouring Monty with his gaze.

“Bed?” Monty asked, his voice rough and ragged. He was feeling a little light-headed, and as he took a step forward, the familiar, heavy sensation started weighting him down. Then there was the aura—the weird taste in his mouth and the flashes in the corners of his vision. Everything went hazy, his tongue thick and fat against the roof of his mouth.

Fuck. Not now. Please, God.

“Monty?”

He stumbled and sucked in breath, hoping he had enough time to explain. “I’m about to collapse,” he slurred. “I’m fine. Please don’t call an ambulance. I’ll explain in a seconnnn?—”

And then he hit the ground.

The oddest thing about cataplexy was being awake and yet not. He wasn’t unconscious. He could hear Bronx moving, feel him kneel at his side and touch his face. He was aware. But it wasn’t reality. His eyes were closed, but he could still see the bedroom…except it wasn’t his bedroom. There were vines on the walls and water spilling somewhere.

If he could have, he would have taken deep breaths. Instead, he fought the hurricane of paralysis until he was able to twitch his fingers. And then move his toes. His arms were next, and eventually, he was able to open his eyes.

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