I rested my elbows on the counter, content to watch this gorgeous hunk work his way around the kitchen. He added some mix into a bowl, then cracked a few eggs before whisking it in. In all honesty he could’ve been painting a wall, or doing a crossword puzzle, or standing still. With his shirt off like this, it was all very sexy.
“Need any aspirin?” he asked, delving into a nearby cabinet.
“Nah, I’m good.”
Erik popped three into his palm and swallowed them down without a drop of water. He turned to me and smiled. “Just thought you might be… a little sore.”
“Oh yeah?” I smiled back at him innocently. “And why’s that?”
His tattoos danced as he shrugged a well-muscled shoulder. “Well…”
“Because the three of you defiled me last night?”
His eyes flared, either in sudden excitement or because of my bluntness. Possibly both.
“Is that what we’re calling it?”
I shifted my weight from one hip to the other. “You can call it whatever you want,” I said coyly. “As long as we keep doing it.”
My heart was thumping now, hard and fast. God, I couldn’t believe I was saying these things! But it seemed the more I talked about it, the more comfortable everything got.
Erik shook his head and slid me two mugs, so I could pour the coffee. Then he returned to his task, while I admired him from behind. His back had that incredibly sexy ‘V’ shape to it that I loved so much. The one that tapered down to a pair of sexy dimples, right above his waistband.
“Milk and sugar?” I asked, still hypnotized by the curve of his ass.
“Both, thanks.”
I poured slowly, going over him inch by inch. Erik had tattoos everywhere. Black and grey sexiness, all along his arms, even down his back. The biggest and boldest was a large, three-dimensional Celtic cross, which dominated his right shoulder.
“You uhh… religious?”
He flipped the pancakes. “No.” Then, after a pause. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason.”
I guess I couldn’t hide the retreat in my voice. Erik turned, looking back at me curiously.
“This?”
He tapped his shoulder with one finger. I nodded.
“Yeah, that’s less for me,” he said, “and more for Hayden.”
I looked again, and noticed the flowing words on a scroll beneath the cross. Something about God. Some kind of biblical saying, maybe, I really wasn’t sure.
Erik eventually removed the pancakes, stacking them on two separate plates while I pulled out a pair of chairs for us. As we slid into them side by side, his voice dropped an octave. His next words were much more subdued.
“Hayden was my brother.”
Thirty-Four
SAVANNAH
“He was a good kid,” Erik went on. “Fast and strong. He would’ve totally excelled at sports. But that just wasn’t in the cards for us.”
I watched as my lover dragged a chunk of pancake absently through a trail of syrup. He was eating voraciously, but talking slow.