by Lane Hayes
“Mmm, stop. You’re gonna make me hard,” I whispered, glancing sideways at my open door.
The office was dark. At six thirty a.m., I was pretty much guaranteed to have the place to myself for another thirty minutes or so. No one would notice my blush or raise an eyebrow if I squirmed in my chair to hide the bulge in my suit pants. But old habits weren’t easy to shake. Thinking about licking Aaron to oblivion before driving myself inside him that morning was one thing. Talking about it was a whole other story. And Aaron knew it.
His melodic laughter sounded like music to my ears. “Are you hard? Touch yourself. I am.”
“I’m at work, perv. I’m not jacking off at my desk,” I said with a snort.
I could picture him lying naked in the middle of our king-sized bed, holding his phone with one hand while the other drifted to his perfect cock. When he moaned my name, I knew I’d gotten it right.
“That would be kind of naughty. I have to get up and do grown-up things, like go to meetings and do fashion edits, but our bed is so warm. And even though I’m a sticky, crusty mess, I feel fabulous.”
“Sticky and crusty is fabulous?” I tried to infuse my voice with a note of levity and hoped he’d move on to PG-rated topics.
“It is when I think about what you did to me. I’m never washing the sheets. These are sacred sex sheets,” he declared with a sigh.
I chuckled at his worshipful tone. “Hmm. You know we can do it again.”
“Oh, I’m counting on it. Geez, I can’t decide what I liked best. It’s a tie between when you tongue-fucked me till I couldn’t remember my name and when you spanked me and made me hang on to the headboard while you—”
“Oh fuck, Aar.” I swallowed hard and finally gave in to temptation, palming my cock through my wool-blend trousers. “Did you have to say ‘spank’?”
Aaron snickered. “Yes! It drives you crazy. My ass is sore and—”
“Mine,” I growled possessively.
“Yes. Yours.”
I shut my eyes for half a second while my lover went into delicious detail about our morning sexathon. He was right. He drove me crazy. He made me want things I’d never dreamed possible. And he’d been doing it for over four years.
I don’t think anyone who knew me well when I first met Aaron could have predicted my life now. The bigger parts were easy. I was still with the prestigious DC law firm I’d interned for while I was finishing my degree. I was an associate partner specializing in contract law, and any day now I expected to be offered a non-equity partnership. Professionally, I was where I’d hoped I’d be after I graduated. Personally…I was light-years away.
Actually, that wasn’t true. I was exactly where I wanted to be. I was in a long-term committed relationship with a person I loved, respected, and cherished. Someone so incredible and unexpected that I swear, most days I couldn’t believe my amazing luck. He was passionate, gorgeous, smart, funny, and yeah…I was head over heels for the guy. That was the part that still blew a few people away. I was in love with a man. Not a woman.
Aaron Mendez was a Puerto Rican American spitfire with a wicked sense of humor and a lust for life. The fact that he wanted anything to do with a boring lawyer was the crazy part. But we fit. He was my missing piece and I was his. This feeling transcended physical attraction. Sure, I was still convinced Aaron was the most beautiful person on the planet. He was small and lean with dark-brown hair, hazel eyes, and an infectious grin that made my heart swell and skip a beat. But it was more than that. He was part of me. Inside me. He made me a better man.
We were opposites in almost every conceivable way. I was tall; he was short. I liked sports; Aaron loved fashion. I tended to be cool and methodical while Aaron was a free spirit with a taste for the finer things in life. We shouldn’t work, but we did. He made me look at the stars, and I reminded him to keep his feet on the ground.
“…and when you stuck your finger inside me while you were fuc—”
“Aar,” I groaned and then started in my chair when the elevator door dinged, signaling I was no longer the only person on my floor. “Great. Someone’s here, and I’m sitting at my desk with a huge boner. Quit laughing and help me get rid of it.”
“That’s what I was trying to do in the first place!” Aaron insisted with a chuckle that morphed into a belly laugh. He sobered from his fit of hysteria with a dramatic sigh when I growled into the phone. “Okay, okay. I should get up anyway. What time will you be home tonight? Can you be here by six? Jack and Curt are coming for dinner. I’m leaving the office early to pick up a couple of things at the market. Oh! And can you get the dry cleaning on your way home?”
“Sure, but I thought that was the point of a delivery service.”
“They said there was a mix-up, and they won’t be in our neighborhood until the end of the week. I can’t wait. I need my Zegna suit for a presentation with a British artiste tomorrow morning.”
“Okay. I’ll take care of it. Did you look at the paperwork for the refinance yet?”
“There goes my hard-on,” he snarked. “No, just tell me where to sign. I don’t want to read it.”
“It’s going to save us a ton of money, babe.” I swiveled back to my computer and reached for my coffee mug.
I froze mid-sip when a shadow crossed my doorway. It was Jana, the bubbly new intern assigned to help a couple of the associates. Great. I motioned to my phone and my computer, hoping she’d take the hint and find something to do on her own. She didn’t. She leaned on the doorframe and crossed her arms under her ample bosom showcased in a tight, low-cut red sweater. Her long brown hair fell artfully over one shoulder in a pose worthy of a fashion shot from Aaron’s magazine.
“I trust you.”
“You should still read the—hang on, Aar,” I said before addressing Jana. “Hi. You’re here early.”
“Good morning, Mr. Sullivan. You said you had a deadline to meet, so I thought I’d come in earlier to help. What can I do?” Her professional tone didn’t jibe with the come-hither look. Jana didn’t bother hiding her infatuation, which made accepting her “help” awkward as hell. I hoped the gooey looks would fade once she was buried under a mountain of laborious research and filing. So far, no such luck.
“Um…finish going through the memos. If there’s anything of note, pull it aside for me to look at later.”
“You got it, boss,” Jana said with a bright smile, tapping her long red nails on the door before pivoting on her high heels and heading toward her desk.
“Sorry Aar, I—”
“Don’t tell me. Jana.” Thankfully, Aaron sounded more amused than annoyed.
“Yeah,” I sighed.
“Someone’s in love with my hunky boyfriend,” he singsonged merrily.
“You, I hope.”
“Yes, but it looks like I have competition,” he teased.
“Don’t be ridiculous. And stop cackling. This isn’t funny. Her internship is up in May, but I can’t take the extra attention for another two months. I’ll have to come out. Again.”
“Poor Matty. Maybe I should come by and kiss you in your office just so she’s clear we aren’t Bert and Ernie.”
I chuckled. “Maybe you should.”
“She wouldn’t be the first. Your mom still thinks we’re just really good friends.”
That stopped me. I didn’t like the resignation in his voice, as if he were simply stating a fact. The sky is blue, the earth is round, my boyfriend’s mother thinks we’re good buddies who do everything together.…I didn’t like it. At all.
“It doesn’t matter what she thinks. You aren’t my friend and—”
“Oh, please! I’d have never made it to the tender age of twenty-nine if I cared what everyone thought of me,” he replied flippantly.
“You’re thirty-two,” I deadpanned as I pushed away from my desk and moved to the open door.
“Details, details. I’m off. Don’t forget the dry cleaning, and be home by six. Curt and Jack will be here at seven.”
>
“Okay. Hey, wait.” Jana looked from her computer with an expectant smile as though she wasn’t sure whom I was addressing. I turned my head slightly but made sure I continued in a loud clear voice. “I love you, Aar. Have a good day.”
His squeal of delight and profuse declaration of love made me blush at least five shades of red. I couldn’t keep the silly grin from spreading across my face as I finally closed the door. My intern’s perturbed expression barely registered. Who cared what Jana the intern thought? Who cared what my mother thought? We were the only ones who mattered. We’d been saying that for years.
I stared unseeing at the contract on my computer, lost in thought. I was surrounded by legal documents, journals, and memos. Hell, I was in the business of creating airtight, binding documents. Any decent lawyer knew there was power in a legally sanctioned title. Sure, Aaron was my friend, roommate, boyfriend, and my partner, but those labels fell short. They hinted at who we were to each other, but they didn’t stake a claim. They didn’t let the world know he was the only one for me. They didn’t infer that I wanted to build a life with him, complete with every traditional trapping I’d always assumed would be mine one day, albeit with a woman. A home, a dog, kids. We weren’t playing house. Nothing about our relationship was casual. This was the real thing. A forever thing. Maybe it was time to do something about it. Legally.
The condo smelled amazing. I draped the dry-cleaning bag over the edge of the sofa before making my way into the kitchen. I didn’t bother greeting the chef. He wouldn’t be able to hear me over the Drake song pumping through the speakers anyway. I hurried to adjust the volume before my eardrums burst or a neighbor pounded on the door. Aaron spun around in surprise, holding a knife in one hand and a tomato in the other.
“Dammit Matty, you scared me!”
I chuckled at his wide-eyed expression and raised my hands in surrender. “I’m sorry. Put the knife down…or at least the tomato.”
Aaron rolled his eyes and tossed both onto the counter before throwing his arms around my neck and sealing his lips to mine. “Hi.”
“Hi, yourself. How was your day?”
“Busy. Did you remember the dry cleaning?”
“Yeah. I left it on the sofa. Whatcha making?”
“I’m—yikes! I have to stir.” He pushed out of my arms and hurried to the stove. “I’m making the spaghetti Bolognese you like. I had grand plans to do arroz con pollo y plátanos, but the photo shoot ran late and I didn’t have time to run to the market, shower, and make dinner. I’m not even sure I have all the spices I need for the adobo anyway. Pasta will have to do. Want a glass of wine?”
I ran a soothing hand down his back, noting he hadn’t showered or changed from his work clothes yet. Aaron didn’t have to wear a suit every day like I did, but he definitely wore business couture as befitting the assistant art director of a prominent DC fashion magazine. Today’s ensemble was well-fitted charcoal trousers and a pink oxford shirt with white cuffs and a pair of Italian loafers I knew for a fact cost more than everything else he had on put together. My guy had very expensive tastes.
A bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon and four wineglasses sat on the counter nearby. A plate of cheese and crackers was artfully displayed next to a short stack of black cocktail napkins and a huge candle. Our condo boasted an open design, so the kitchen flowed seamlessly into the spacious living room. I glanced toward the dining area and noticed that the table was set, and the geometric brass chandelier overhead was dimmed. A beautiful spring floral arrangement I was pretty sure hadn’t been there this morning graced the center of the round table. I grabbed his apron from the hook on the cabinet door and moved back to Aaron, who was giving me a rundown of his day as he spiced his sauce.
“…she wasn’t excited about me getting the assistant directorship, so I have to do my best to win her over. Marsha is a tough cookie. If she wasn’t so damn good at—what are you doing?”
“You forgot your apron. Stand still,” I said as I slipped the cotton strap over his head and cupped his package.
“Behave. I’ve got a lot to do, and they’ll be here in fifteen minutes.” He smacked my hand but countered the reprimand with a kiss and one of his beautiful megawatt smiles that always turned me inside out.
I moaned theatrically. “What’s the occasion? Everything looks so…fancy.”
“It’s nothing special. We were supposed to get together to celebrate my promotion last week, but Jack had to work and I thought it would be nicer to do something at home anyway.”
“It’s a Wednesday night,” I said in a flat tone, stating the obvious.
“So?” Aaron rinsed his hands and pointed at the wine meaningfully before picking up the knife and tomato he’d abandoned earlier. “Jack owns a bar. He can’t commit to weekends. You know that. We’re not old fogies. We can handle a midweek dinner. Shoot. Do you have to go into work early again tomorrow?”
I shook my head as I pulled the cork from the bottle and set it aside to let it breathe. Then I snuck a cracker from the marble cutting board and leaned against the counter to study my boyfriend. His hair fell over his eyes, but I could tell he’d had a stressful day from the rigid set of his shoulders as he chopped tomatoes like a ninja warrior. He was a bundle of excess energy. Not the good kind.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Nothing. Why?”
“You look stressed. It’s Curt and Jack, babe. Order a pizza. They’d be fine with—”
“Pizza is only appropriate for casual get-togethers. This is supposed to be nice.”
I rolled my eyes and reached out to poke his side playfully but the reflection of unshed tears in his gaze stopped me in my tracks.
“Aaron, what is it?” I set a firm hand on his elbow.
“Huh? Nothing. They’ll be here soon and the salad isn’t done and—”
I moved my hand to his wrist and tightened my grip until he let go of the knife. I was mildly amused when he rounded on me with a pointed finger and switched from English to Spanish. The fiery Latin thing was really fucking cute…and sexy as hell. But when the tears threatened to spill, I was instantly alarmed.
“Hey, hey, hey…talk to me, hothead. What’s going on?” I pulled him against me and held him tight, resting my chin on his head. I threaded my fingers through his hair and kissed his temple. Our height difference made it easy for him to burrow close. “Aar?”
Aaron sighed and clandestinely swiped at the corner of his eye before stepping backward with a reassuring smile.
“I’m fine. I just had one of those days. One of the models accidentally ripped a dress in the fitting, and the designer had a cow. It took an hour to calm them both down, which meant everything after was behind schedule. I was one minute late to a meeting with Marsha, who made it clear she was unhappy about the sixty-second delay. Then of course, she hated the spread. The lighting was wrong. The backdrop was hideous, and the models looked like they all needed a meal. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to clobber her or just fucking cry. It took everything I had to keep it together.”
“I’m sorry, baby.”
“Thanks. I’m not overly concerned. I know I’ll prove myself eventually. But I didn’t have time to make the dinner I wanted to. And don’t ask me about the refinance paperwork. I felt like throwing it in the trash after my conversation with your mother. Roommates don’t share the mortgage, do they?”
Oh, fuck. That explained everything.
Aaron grumbled under his breath in Spanish as he dumped the tomatoes into a salad bowl with more force than necessary. I let out a deep sigh, then moved to the wine and poured two generous glasses. Mother discussions required alcohol.
“What did my mom say?”
I handed him a wineglass after he set the salad bowl in the refrigerator and untied his apron ribbon. He took the glass, clinked it against mine, and offered a wan smile as he slipped his apron over his head.
“Nothing overt. Your mother is the queen of subtle insults. Sometimes I wish you were
Puerto Rican. We don’t do subtle. If we’re angry, we don’t beat around the bush and talk about something vaguely related to what really pisses us off. Not that I have to guess with her. She hates me.”
“She doesn’t hate you, Aar. She just has a hard time understanding us. She needs time to—”
“It’s been four fucking years! How much time does she need?” He set his glass down with enough force to crack the stem. “Whatever. It’s the same old shit. I shouldn’t have picked up the phone without looking at the caller ID. She was pleasant at first. She asked about my recipe and who was coming over. Then she said she could tell I was in a rush. If I’d been smart, I would have said good-bye, but I was too wound up after my day and I didn’t take my out. Instead…I gave her a little TMI.”
“What did you say?”
“I said I wanted to get the sauce going so I could look at the loan paperwork like I promised Matty. And yeah…I said Matty.”
“O-kay.”
“She got chilly very quickly. She reminded me that Matthew was a lawyer who undoubtedly would be more than capable of handling his own mortgage. And she made up some lame excuse to get off the phone so she could hang up on me.”
Truthfully that didn’t sound like a horrible exchange, but I was getting smarter at this boyfriend thing. Just because I didn’t find something offensive didn’t mean Aaron felt the same.
“Well…”
“You don’t get it, do you?”
“Uh. No. I don’t think she meant it meanly, babe. She—”
“Bullshit. She hates when I call you Matty, and she hates knowing my name is on any legal form associated with you. It’s a reminder that the novelty of me hasn’t run its course for you yet. She wants to get to know a daughter-in-law to-be, not waste time with the overly fabulous gay man answering her son’s phone. Your mother can’t stand that I’m still part of your life after all these years.”
“You aren’t part of my life, Aar. You are my life.”
This time Aaron’s smile was incandescent. It was warm and sunny enough to make this cold evening in mid-March feel like a warm summer day. He snaked his arms over my shoulders and kissed me breathless. I swore I saw stars when he pulled back to study me with a sexy grin.