I watched as he walked down the hall toward his bedroom, missing him already.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Isaac
I stayed in the shower longer than I needed to, enjoying the feel of the hot water as it pelted my skin. I liked knowing Lane was in the condo with me. I liked coming home to him and kissing him and eating dinner with him at the table.
That was a big part of why I didn’t want to tell anyone yet. I worried that once we did, things would change and be more difficult. It was naive to pretend otherwise. Right now, I just wanted to enjoy the hell out of being with Lane, and it was exactly what I planned to do. Our problems weren’t going anywhere. We could deal with them later.
After my shower, I dried off, wrapped a towel around my waist, and brushed my teeth. I’d just plucked shaving cream off the counter, when Lane came in.
He didn’t say anything, just slyly pulled the bottle from my hand. I cocked a brow, and he grinned.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Shut up.”
“Goddamn, you’re bossy.”
“And you’re still talking.” Lane released a drop of shaving cream onto his finger. He touched the tip of my nose, leaving a dot of white behind, before setting the bottle on the counter. He picked up my electric shaver and asked, “Is it at the right setting for your length?” I liked to keep it trimmed very short, a slight dusting of a beard. When I didn’t reply, he shook his head, his eyes knowing.
“Well, you can’t have it both ways. You can’t tell me to shut up and then ask me questions.”
“But you love me, so that means I can get away with anything, right?” he joked.
“You wish. But yes.” I’d never had a lover shave me before, but I would let Lane.
The razor buzzed to life. I leaned my ass against the counter, Lane in front of me. He was in nothing but his underwear. The man would live in them or nude if he could.
He trimmed my length, and when he finished, he set the razor down, then plucked the bottle up again. He reached around me and turned the faucet on. He filled his hand with shaving cream, then rubbed it along my neck and face strategically, to clean up my edges.
I didn’t know why, but I held my breath with the first stroke of the razor against my skin. There was something incredibly intimate about this moment—the two of us close, the bulge in his boxer briefs, the look of concentration on his face while he shaved me. Each movement of his hand, the way his eyes studied what he did, made me feel like I was his art. Like he took shaving me that seriously. I was his canvas, and Lane was creating a masterpiece.
It was hard to concentrate on anything other than Lane and what he was doing to me, but I managed to say, “You’re being very sweet to me. What’s up with that?”
“I’m always sweet to you…and this is what we do, no? Haven’t we always taken care of each other? Now we’re just doing it in different ways.”
Jesus, this fucking guy. He was so damn incredible.
Lane finished shaving me, then stepped closer, his body against mine, flesh on flesh, as he rinsed the razor and put it away. He grabbed a washcloth, put it under the faucet, then stepped back to wipe my face clean. “Just as hot as always.”
“You should do that more often. Tell me I’m hot.”
Lane chuckled, the sound not quieting until he pressed his lips to my neck. I groaned at the feel of his mouth against my skin. I dropped my head back, held his hips while he made out with my neck, kissing and licking, then working his way down my body, across my pecs.
I growled when he pulled back, needing more of him. Needing Lane.
“I’m not going anywhere. I love how much you want me. Makes me feel like the luckiest man in the world.”
“That’s me,” I replied.
“If only everyone else knew how sweet you are.”
“Gross,” I replied. “I am not.”
He turned me then, and I let him. Lane’s lips pressed to my nape, then worked their way down, savoring each knob of my spine. He felt so warm against me, so hot and hungry, each kiss making my balls tighten more and my cock harden almost painfully.
When he knelt behind me, tugging the towel free, I damn near whimpered. A man had never made me do that before, but this was Lane. My Lane.
“Can I?” he asked, rubbing his nose along one of my ass cheeks.
I gripped the edge of the counter so tight, my fingers hurt. “Yes, God yes.” There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t let Lane do to me, and the thought of having him there? Of his face in my crack and his mouth and tongue on my hole? It almost made me come just imagining it.