We Have Till Dawn

“All right.”

When he lifted his head, I twisted my body and pointed across the street, closer to the eastern corner of the plaza. “See the Godiva sign over there?”

He followed my gaze and nodded.

“Okay. I’ll lead the way. You just focus on the music and following me.”

“I will. But I saw something in your playlist I’d like to hear. I’m curious about what you enjoy.”

I handed him my phone and watched him scroll through the playlist I’d originally played, the one with love songs, and he picked one called “Slow Dance.”

It took him thirty-eight seconds to quirk a brow at me. “A hip-hop song that’s anything but slow…about slow dancing?”

I laughed. “This ain’t hip-hop.” I’d call it mainstream pop with some R&B elements. “I like the beat.” I bobbed my head and swayed a little.

He mustered a faint smile. Then he glanced up at the Coca-Cola billboard behind me that Times Square would be nothing without, and he appeared more content now.

“It’s a spectacular place when I don’t have to listen to it,” he admitted.

“The sounds are worse than the billboards?”

“Much.” He nodded. “City noise is unpredictable when it’s too close. I like having it in the background at home and so on, but being a pedestrian in this city is a headache.”

“But you like our walks…?”

“I love them,” he corrected. “I just make sure to prepare myself beforehand.”

Made sense.

We’d had a little too much of the unpredictable tonight, though, so I wanted to get him home as soon as possible.

“Come on. Chocolate, then home.” I untangled myself from him and left the bench, losing my earbud in the process.

He took it and inserted it in his other ear.Chapter 9“Honey…your alarm…”

“Is a menace,” he grumbled sleepily.

Once he’d turned it off, he returned to me and pressed our bodies together, one hand sliding down my back to squeeze my ass cheeks. Then he released a long sigh and stretched out alongside me.

“I don’t want to work today,” he yawned. “I want to stay right here all day and cuddle and eat fries and feel ridiculously cherished whenever you call me baby or papi or honey. But my newest favorite is papito. You only use it when you take care of me.”

“That’s when you’re my little Daddy.” I chuckled drowsily and buried my face against his neck.

What was less funny was his lack of mentioning sex. We’d gone almost five days now without him fucking me. I’d hinted at it here and there. I’d asked if he was curious about bottoming, to which he’d made a face and shaken his head. I didn’t care. I was a bottom through and through, but I’d thought by suggesting new things, he might…wake up. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t still sexual with me. He rendered me breathless and stupid every damn night with blow jobs and massages and whatnot. Just…nothing for himself. He was “tired.”

“Come here.” He turned onto his side and dipped down, capturing my mouth with his. “Friday is the worst day of them all.”

Because it was my day “off.”

“Mm…” I inched back and wet my bottom lip. “How can you still taste like chocolate?”

I’d bought him a fairly big box of chocolate at Godiva earlier this week, along with a large cup of hot chocolate, and he’d snatched a few pieces here and there whenever he was with me. But after a long night of sleeping, not to mention we’d brushed our teeth together like some sappy, love-sick couple yesterday, it didn’t make sense.

“It’s possible I grabbed the last two pieces when I got up to use the bathroom an hour ago,” he confessed.

I grinned lazily and kissed him again. “Christ, I—” love you. “Can’t get over how fucking cute you are sometimes.”

There was no going back for me. After our adventure to Times Square, we’d come back here, and I’d asked him to finish the sentence he hadn’t been able to complete earlier. He’d admitted that I was the first one, aside from his parents, who made him feel like he didn’t have to worry about composure and always being on top of things. And it’d just sealed my fate. I was gonna be one miserable fuck for an eternity when this was over.

“Want me to whip up some breakfast before you go?” I asked.

I wasn’t surprised when he declined. He’d only let me do it once, then abruptly declared he couldn’t afford to get hooked on my spoiling him. Only, he’d used fancier words.

“What’re you going to do today?” He rolled out of bed with a grunt and reached for his discarded clothes on my chair at the keyboard. “Practice with the choir, I assume?”

“Not until tomorrow morning,” I replied. “Today I got brunch with Tina, then work. We have a recital at the academy.” It was that time of year. There would be a recital every Friday until the semester was over.