Page 62 of Daily Grind
Rob’s answer was to pull him closer. Warmth, the smell of salt and sex and Rob. Everything Brian wanted. He teetered over the pit, peered into the unknown, and sent up a silent prayer to the universe.Please. Just this once, let it work. Please.
Chapter Twelve
Brian was beginningto hate mornings, at least when he’d spent the night with Rob. Waking up meant ending their time together rather than starting a new day. Rob showered and they dressed, moving easily around each other, but an air of sadness cast a shadow over the morning.
Plenty of time for Rob to drive him back to Squirrel Hill, where he’d clean himself up and change before heading to Grounds N’at. That left one issue, though.
“What are we going to do about my bike? Didn’t see a rack on that Mercedes of yours.” He sat on Rob’s bed.
Rob stood at a floor-length mirror, tying his tie. “I have one, but no—it’s not on right now.” He tightened the knot and smoothed the silk out. “I can bring it to you sometime this week, if you’re free in the evening?” He turned and faced Brian.
Fuck, businesswear looked damn good on Rob’s long, lean figure. A simple tan suit and white shirt, paired with a dark red tie that brought out the color of Rob’s hair.
Brian’s balls tightened. Those were the kind of clothes that deserved to be peeled off Rob at the end of a day. “Wednesday.” The word was thick in his mouth. “I’m off Wednesday evening.”
Rob’s smile was knowing. So was his walk as he closed the distance. “Like what you see?”
No time to answer, because Rob’s mouth was on his, so he put the emphaticyesinto his kiss and pressed his palm against Rob’s dick and balls.
Rob broke the kiss with a chuckle. “So I should wear the suit Wednesday night?”
“Please.” Brian took Rob’s tie and pulled him down for another kiss. But after a few moments he relented.
Rob’s grin slipped. “We should head out.”
“Yeah.” Brian rose and grabbed his backpack.
Driving across town didn’t take long, not this early in the morning. Soon—too soon—they pulled up in front of Brian’s place. He unbelted and fiddled with one of the straps on his bag. “That was the best day I’ve had in a long time.” He met Rob’s gaze. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” Low murmured words. “And very much the same for me, by the way. You’re—” A little color touched his cheeks and he laughed. “Fucking lovely. I couldn’t ask for a better man.”
That flipped his brain in about seventeen different directions. Rob probably could find a better guy, but he wasn’t about to tell him that. “I—” He really was falling in love.Shit. “There’s never been anyone like you.”
Rob pulled him over and kissed him, then spoke against his lips. “We could spend hours like this.” He sat back. “Wednesday?”
“Yes.” God yes. “I’ll text. Call.”
A grin. “You’d better.”
Nothing else to do but get out, so he did, shut the door, and stood on the sidewalk. Rob’s grin was all dimples and freckles and sunshine. He donned his sunglasses—same ones he’d worn that first day—and pulled away.
That absence left Brian bereft but giddy. He had a boyfriend. A hot, sexy one who—dare he even think it?—loved him back. Pretty heady stuff that churned his brain and the blood in his veins as he climbed the stairs to his apartment, showered, and changed.
He’d fucked Rob. Good and hard. Then Rob had turned him into ash with his fingers and his mouth. They’d biked. They’d talked. Taken photos at the Carrie Furnace—so many events packed into one day.
He wanted more, so much more. Hours, days, weeks. If it weren’t for the shop—
He clutched the edge of his sink. His shop. For the first time since he’d opened it, it almost wasn’t the most important thing in his life.
Rob. Just as it had that first day, his name rang in Brian’s head. Rob Rob RobRob.
He was in trouble. Dating Rob felt like anaffair.
A glance at his watch told him he should head out. He needed to be at the shop about a half hour before opening to prep for the day.
The walk usually cleared his mind, but today his brain only churned more and more. The scent of Rob’s shower gel, the feel of Rob’s fingers inside him, the sound of Rob’s groan when he came.
Opening the shop was done by rote memory because his heart and head weren’t at work yet—those were tangled up in the sheets on Rob’s bed.
