Page 37 of Loving You

“It takes me a minute for my brain to clear,” he admitted.

“I get it. I mean, I don’t get it, but I understand,” Bronx clarified. He was still smiling too. And he wasn’t running for the door, which, once again, surprised Monty. He could understand why the fainting thing didn’t bother him, but why would he stick around for Rod’s threats and insults? And dear God, had Bronx said he was Monty’s boyfriend?

“Ah, about what you said…”

Bronx flushed. “Yeah, sorry. I know that was way overstepping, especially since you were really clear about your boundaries. But I was super pissed at the way he was speaking to you.”

Monty shook his head. “No. No, I…thank you. You didn’t need to do any of that.”

Bronx shrugged. “Did it help?”

Monty couldn’t really answer that question. His emotions were all over the place, and it technically did complicate things. Now he had a fake boyfriend? Granted, it was a boyfriend he was already sleeping with, so it wasn’t like he needed to play pretend in that regard, but Bronx wasright: it was technically crossing the lines they’d both drawn.

He just couldn’t bring himself to be upset about it.

“I’m sorry he ruined the evening.”

Bronx’s eyes widened. “Are you serious? Is that what you were saying before?”

Monty shrugged, staring down at his hands. “Something like that. Sometimes it feels like his one job is to make my life lonelier.”

“He’s sent people running before, hasn’t he?”

Monty shook his head. “No one’s ever really stayed long enough for me to take the risk. So I suppose, in that case, you’re…putain, I forget how the phrase goes. One and zero?”

Bronx burst into the laughter Monty loved hearing so much and reached for him, manipulating him as if he weighed nothing until he was sat across Bronx’s lap. The larger man took Monty by the chin and kissed him. “If you’re making a sports reference, it’s one-nothing. Or something like that. I’m not actually much of a sports guy. The only thing I’ve been into in recent years is my son’s Goalball team.”

“Goalball.”

“It’s a blind sport. Like dodgeball. Did y’all have that in France?”

Monty shook his head with a small grin. “But I know the reference. And Luke, he’s very good?”

“He’s fine,” Bronx said. “I mean, never tell him I said that, but he probably wouldn’t care. He did it to pass the time. I think he’d rather be a pilot.”

“He might set records,” Monty said and was kissed for that response. He groaned, losing himself in the taste ofBronx’s lips before remembering what they’d been up to and what had been interrupted. “Are you?—”

“Yes,” Bronx murmured softly, “but only if you are.”

“Up for it,” Monty said. He rocked his hips gently and felt Bronx’s hardening cock against his backside. “Are you certain? After everything?”

“I should be the one asking you that.” Bronx traced a touch over Monty’s temple. “I know you said you’re good after, but I don’t want you to push it.”

“I won’t push it,” Monty said. He leaned in and let his lips brush against Bronx’s as he spoke. “Take me to bed. Make me forget.”

Chapter Ten

BRONX

There wasa time in his life not that long ago when Bronx was pretty sure he’d never be in this position again. On his knees, tongue buried in another man’s ass, drunk off his groans and the way he was squirming against the sheets.

He and Jules had been like that once, but that was years and years back. In hindsight, he probably should have known that Jules was getting what he wanted from someone else, but at the time, he thought he was happy.

Or, at the very least, content.

Now, with the taste of Monty on his tongue and his moans ringing in his ears, he realized how much he’d missed gently tormenting someone into ecstasy.

Pulling back, he licked around Monty’s hole, then kissed down under his balls, urging his hips up. His cock hung heavy and fat with the refractory rate that Bronx no longer had at his age. But he wasn’t mad about it. It meant he could play with Monty for longer, holding off his own orgasm until he was ready.

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