by Pandora Pine
“Books?” Nash asked, seeming to read Bronson’s mind.
“Yeah. Most of them were brand new copies, but Goodnight Moon was an heirloom of sorts.” Bronson shrugged, not sure he wanted Nash to see the more sentimental side of him. He wasn’t opposed to Nash seeing the naked side of him, but he’d hold back on the emotional side of things for a while longer.
“You’re an amazing father, Bronson. All of these pictures show it, live and in living color. There’s no way that any judge in the world could take Tucker away from you based on these pictures alone. It’s a shame though, for Tucker’s sake, that you took out all of the pics of Alicia.” Nash wore a sad look.
“I didn’t. There aren’t any pictures of Alicia and Tucker. At least not many. She never wanted to be a mother.” Bronson got up and walked away from Nash. This wasn’t exactly how he pictured their night alone going.
Nash hummed under his breath. “So then why is she hell-bent on taking him away from you?”
“Revenge,” Bronson said simply. “Getting pregnant ruined her life and her ability to become a journalist like Diane Sawyer. She always blamed me for that. Then lump in the fact that I’m gay and used her to cover that fact up…” If Bronson didn’t want to talk about Alicia’s lack of motherly instincts, he sure as fuck didn’t want to talk about the role he played in that situation.
From behind him, Bronson heard Nash set the album down and get up from the chair. A moment later, he felt Nash’s hands curling around the back of his arms. “No matter what happened in your past, you’re one hell of a man, Bronson McKinnon.”
Bronson could feel Nash’s soft, warm breath against the back of his neck. He took half a step backwards, brining his back into contact with Nash’s stacked chest. “You’re one hell of a man too, Nash Spencer.”
Nash chuckled under his breath while dropping his hands away from Bronson’s warm skin.
Bronson instantly missed the contact between them. He wanted Nash’s magical hands back on his skin, but didn’t want to beg for it and sound needy. He didn’t have long to wait. While he was sulking in his head, Nash had stepped around him so they were now facing each other.
Not wanting to waste another second, Bronson shoved his hands into the front pockets of Nash’s dark jeans and pulled the other man flush against him. He could feel the heat of Nash’s chest bleeding into his own.
Nash locked eyes with Bronson, a slight smile quirking his full lips. “You gonna kiss me or what?” His voice was low and husky with apparent need.
Bronson fisted his hands tighter in the fabric lining of Nash’s jeans and licked his lips.
Nash wrapped his arms around Bronson’s broad shoulders and mimicked his movements, his tongue slowly sliding over his own lips.
Bronson was sure he was going to die if he didn’t taste Nash in the next few seconds, but he couldn’t help enjoying the long, slow build-up. His cock was waking up in his pants as Nash continued to stare at him like he was a bronzed god.
Seeming content to wait Bronson out, Nash carded a hand through the silky blond strands of hair at the nape of Bronson’s neck, his lips curving into a smile when Bronson shivered under his touch.
Bending his head forward, Bronson could feel Nash's breath whispering across his lips. His entire body was screaming for him to just kiss Nash already. Pressing forward, his lips glided over Nash's memorizing the feel of his lips instantly. Both men moaned in concert.
Nash twined his arms more tightly around Bronson's neck, but pulled their lips apart. "Finally," he whispered before kissing Bronson himself.
Finally indeed… Kissing Nash was overwhelming his senses. Bronson could smell the spicy aftershave that he must have used that morning. Nash tasted like heaven and oregano from the pizza. He grinned against his friend's lips.
"What's so funny? Nash asked breathlessly.
"You taste like oregano." Bronson could feel a blush blooming over his face.
"Is that good or bad?" Nash asked uncertainly.
"It's good. Everything about you is good." Bronson meant it. He'd fantasized for weeks now about what it would feel like to taste Nash and now that he knew, Bronson never wanted to stop kissing him.
8
Nash had woken up with the taste of Bronson on his lips. It had been hell saying good night last night, but eventually they'd managed to stop kissing each other long enough for Nash to slip out the door.
He'd kissed a lot of men in his life but none of those other men did to him with their entire bodies what Bronson McKinnon did to him with his lips and a smoldering glance.
They'd been too busy exploring each other's lips to talk about what the night meant for them. Nash was certain he and Bronson were on the same page though. He remembered his friend saying that he was looking to settle down with a man who would treat Tucker like his own son.
Was Nash ready for that kind of commitment? There was no doubt in his mind that he wanted to be a father someday, but if he got with Bronson, he and Tucker were a package deal. He'd be a father, a step-father actually, a lot sooner than he'd ever thought possible.
He was anxious to get to know Bronson better and to spend more time with him and Tucker. Right after he'd gotten up, he'd checked his phone, disappointed that Bronson hadn't sent him a good morning text. He shrugged that feeling off and sent Bronson a text of his own, telling him what a great time he'd had with both McKinnons last night and wishing Bronson a good day.
They'd see each other in an hour or so when Bronson dropped Tucker off at school. Butterflies twirled in his stomach at the thought of seeing his almost, sort-of boyfriend. At least that was how he thought of Bronson in his mind.
Stretching his tired muscles, Nash hopped out of bed and into the bathroom where he turned the shower on. Once the water was the right temperature, he stripped off his navy boxer briefs. His morning wood sprung free, smearing pre-come against the dark fur of his belly
Stepping into the shower, Nash sighed as the hot water pounded against his skin. Grabbing his bar of soap, he made quick work of getting clean. With his right hand still coated in suds, he picked up his needy cock and gave it a few leisurely strokes.
He'd been so wound up after his night kissing Bronson that he'd had to jack off twice before his ravenous cock would settle down and let him get to sleep. He didn't have the time to spend leisurely bringing himself off. This was going to have to be a quickie.
Bracing his left hand against the wet, blue shower tile, he tightened his grip on his leaking dick. Setting a punishing pace, he jacked his cock so hard that soap suds flew off his hand to land on his stomach.
"Fuck, yeah!" Nash gritted out between his pursed lips, imagining Bronson pounding into him from behind. Slamming his eyes shut tight, he concentrated on what it would feel like for Bronson to fuck him, hard and fast.
Nash moaned out loud, his dick getting that much harder in his hand. Only a few more fast strokes and he'd be blowing his wad all over himself. "Fuck me, Bronson!" Nash yelled, the first spurt of come erupting from his slit to splat against his soaking chest.
"Fuck...Fuck!" Nash panted while his cock continued to spew in his hand. His slit ached from the strength of his orgasm, as wave after wave of sweet cream ripped from his body to coat his neck and chest.
"Jesus fucking Christ." Nash dropped his now wilting dick to brace both hands against the shower tile. One thing was for certain, he needed to make his fantasy of fucking Bronson a reality sooner rather than later. His cock started to rise again in agreement. He was a busy man and couldn't spend all of his free time with his dick in his hand lusting after a man who was within his reach.
XX
Bronson woke up feeling like he was on top of the world. Last night with Nash had literally been the best night of his life that he'd spent with another man. He hadn't wanted his friend to leave, but had to think about how he'd explain Tucker’s teacher joining them for breakfast in the outfit he'd been wearing yesterday.
Bronson had no doubt that they would
get to the point when Nash would be spending the night with them, but he'd need a little time to think about how to explain that to Tucker. He was sure Nash would be willing to help him out with that.
If things got as serious as he thought they were going to get between him and Nash, what would happen at school? Would Tucker have to move to the other kindergarten classroom? How would losing his friends and favorite teacher affect him only three weeks into the school year?
"Slow down, cowboy," Bronson whispered to himself. Last night with Nash had been amazing, but they hadn't talked about where this budding relationship was going. He wasn't just putting the cart before the horse. Hell, the damn horse hadn't even been born yet.
The next time the two of them had some alone time together, they were going to have to use their lips for talking rather than kissing. But man, what a kisser Nash Spencer was. That man's lips made him weak in the knees. Thank God they'd ended up on the sofa together, otherwise Bronson would have ended up in a heap on the floor, although he wouldn't have minded if Nash had joined him.
Speaking of Nash, he picked up his cell phone to see if the teacher had sent him a message. He was about to hit the home button when the phone buzzed to life in his hand. [Mornin' handsome man.]
A full body shiver tore through Bronson. Nash thought he was handsome. He'd swoon, but thankfully he was still in bed, the sheet pooled low on his boxer-clad hips. [Right back at you, gorgeous.] Two could play the compliment game and besides, it was true.
With Nash's dark hair and glowing blue eyes, his Barbados blue eyes, the man was an absolute ten. Throw in his chiseled body and the fact that he was nuts about Bronson made him a twenty. Not to mention Nash's cock, which had gone rock hard the minute Bronson had sunk his hands into his jeans' pockets. That magnificent feeling dick had still been hard as a rock when they'd finally said good night. That made him a fifty.
Bronson snorted, unable to believe how wistful he'd become.
"Daddy?" Tucker yelled, his bare feet slapping loudly on the wood floor.
"Yeah, buddy?" Bronson stretched and waited for Tucker to fly into his room.
"Where's Mr. Spencer? I was gonna share my Cheerios with him this morning." Tucker was wearing a grumpy look when he rounded the corner into Bronson's room.
"He had to go home last night and sleep in his own bed."
"You could’a had a slumber party. I would have let Mr. Spencer borrow my T-Rex blanket." Tucker climbed up on the bed and threw himself into his father's arms.
He couldn't fault Tucker's reasoning. It would have been heaven to fall asleep with his head on Nash's bare chest. "All of Nash's clothes were at home though. He couldn't go to school today wearing dirty clothes, right?"
Tucker mumbled something unintelligible against Bronson's chest.
Bronson couldn't have said it better himself.
Forty-five minutes later, they were headed out of the building and walking toward the SUV when a man Bronson didn’t know walked up to them.
"Are you Bronson McKinnon?"
"I am," Bronson confirmed uneasily. He had a bad feeling about this.
The man slapped a manila envelope against his chest. "You've been served." The man smiled brightly and walked away.
"Fuck-wad," Bronson muttered under his breath. What kind of an asshole did something like that in front of a small boy?
"What's that, Daddy?" Tucker asked.
"Nothing buddy." Bronson wished it was nothing. "Just a piece of mail that the mailman forgot to deliver yesterday." He prayed that explanation would be enough to satisfy Tucker.
The ride to Little Wonders was the longest ten minutes of his life. More than anything, he wanted to melt into Nash's arms and hug his friend until his heart stopped feeling like it was shattering into a million pieces.
He knew without having opened the envelope what it contained. The papers inside were a nasty-gram courtesy of his ex-wife from hell.
Karma really was a bitch and now it had Bronson dead-to-rights. He was going to pay for all of the years he spent lying to Alicia about his sexuality. All those lies and mistruths were going to cost him the only thing that mattered in his life: his son.
Bronson knew he deserved to pay the price for being such a rotten human being. Tears pricked the back of his eyes as he eased the SUV into an empty spot in the school parking lot and switched off the engine.
Tucker skipped along happily toward his classroom while Bronson shuffled along behind him.
“Good morning, Tucker!” Nash greeted brightly.
Bronson envied Nash his excited tone. No doubt part of it had to do with the time they’d spent together after Tucker went to bed. Holding the envelope in his hand, he felt like he’d never be happy again.
“Good morning, Bronson!” Nash greeted just as happily but with a twinkle in his eyes.
“Hey.” Bronson felt like shit for answering Nash in a dead tone of voice.
Nash raised a speculative eyebrow. “Tucker, why don’t you go say good morning to the lizards? I bet they missed you.” He watched the boy dash toward the terrariums before turning back to Bronson with a worried look in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
Bronson held up the envelope.
Nash took it from him and read the label. “Newburyport District Court. Are these the custody papers?” Nash whispered.
Bronson was thankful for Nash’s quiet tone of voice. He still had no idea how he was going to tell Tucker and he didn’t want his son to find out by overhearing the news. “Don’t know. Haven’t opened them yet. I wanted to do it with…” Bronson stopped, looking up to gauge Nash’s response to his train of thought.
“With me?” Nash’s blue eyes softened as he handed the envelope back.
Bronson nodded, barely in control of his fraying emotions.
“I don’t think now is the time or place. Do you want to get together tonight? I could make you guys dinner.” Nash shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, rocking back on his heels.
Bronson nodded. “Alicia is picking Tucker up from school. So it would be just me tonight.”
“You mean just us?” Nash broke out into an infectious grin. “Why don’t you come over when you get out of work?”
“Can I bring anything?” The tightness in Bronson’s chest loosened a bit at the prospect of having Nash by his side when he opened the envelope.
“How about something sweet for dessert?” Nash winked at him.
Bronson was about to offer a comeback about Nash’s sweet lips being enough, but he noticed the classroom was filling up with parents and students.
“It’s going to be okay, Bronson. We’ll figure it out together.” Nash slapped a hand on his shoulder and moved off to greet his other students.
There was so much light and faith in Nash’s eyes, Bronson almost believed everything would be all right.
9
Nash sang along with his favorite P!nk song while he seasoned the thick rib-eye steaks he’d bought for dinner. The large russet potatoes he’d gotten were already oiled and wrapped tightly in tinfoil.
Call him old-fashioned, but he knew nothing was more irresistible to a man than meat and potatoes. The way to a man’s heart was definitely through his stomach. In Bronson’s heart was exactly where he wanted to be.
Nash had never fancied himself a dreamer, but over the last few weeks, all he’d done was dream about Bronson. Getting this chance to spend time alone with the handsome single father was a dream come true, only in his dream, he and Bronson were making wild love, not figuring a way out of a custody fight.
Dinner would be the easy part, reading those court papers afterward would be an absolute killer. Nash’s heart had broken this morning when he’d seen Bronson walk into his classroom. He’d pictured a happy reunion with lots of smiles and a lot of blushing after the night they’d spent kissing each other breathless.
What Nash hadn’t been expecting or been prepared for was the look of desolation on Bronson’s face. He would have given anythi
ng he had to turn Bronson’s frown upside down.
The only thing that had cheered him this morning was Bronson agreeing to come for dinner. Once the steaks were seasoned and ready to slap on the grill, Nash set to work making a big salad. He figured that if he filled Bronson’s belly with good food, it might make reading the court papers easier.
He hadn’t mentioned it to Bronson yet, but Remington’s older brother, Rainier, was a lawyer specializing in family law. Nash was more than willing to make the introduction if Bronson thought the lawyer could help. During their lunches, Rem often told amazing stories about Rainier’s cases. If anyone could help Bronson and Tucker stay together, he’d bet it was Remington’s softer-spoken brother.
Just as Nash was adding shredded carrots to the salad, his doorbell rang. Wiping his hands on the dishtowel tucked into his pants, he ran toward the door. Bronson took his breath away. He was holding a pink baker’s box from Cupcake Heaven in one hand, while in the other was a beautiful bouquet of fall flowers in muted earth tones.
“Are those for me?” Nash blushed like a teenager. No one had ever brought him flowers before.
Bronson nodded, taking half a step forward to press a gentle hello kiss to Nash’s lips. “Mmm, you smell good enough to eat.”