The Silver Fox (Red's Tavern 3)

“I mean, that would have been nice, too, but…”

He paused for a moment, his eyes dancing across my face. “I was ready to accept just being your friend. You know that, right?”

I hummed deeply, moving in to gently nibble his bottom lip. “God, I was not ready to accept that,” I said. “I want you so badly.”

He took in a shaky breath. I loved that I was able to make him shake like that. He looked up at me, his eyes half-lidded, like he was under some sort of trance.

“How about those condoms and lube, Chef?” I murmured.

“Yes. Right. God yes. Let’s go.”

I knew if I didn’t get off him right then I never would. I quickly moved back over to the passenger side, swinging the door open and rounding the car. Perry was out quickly too, and rummaged in his pocket for his keys as he slowly crossed over to the front door of his house.

I watched him walking over in the glow of the front porch light. The only sounds in the air were our footsteps and the faint, constant chatter of crickets. It was the first time I’d seen Perry’s house, and I was struck by how peaceful it felt.

That wasn’t a feeling I usually had about small-town homes. Usually they felt boring, or too isolated, or too plain.

Perry’s house seemed different. The neighborhood was dotted with similar small homes, but none of the houses were crammed too close together. Mature oak trees surrounded the place, and the front porch certainly wasn’t grandiose, but it was perfect. Just two patio chairs and a table, looking out at the starry night sky.

I liked this place because it felt like him. Not needing to prove anything, but somehow completely perfect without even trying.

As he put the key into the lock, I wrapped my arms around him from behind, pressing up against him and kissing the back of his neck. He paused there for a moment, totally still as I explored him with my hands, running my palms along the sides of his body.

“Can’t take you anywhere,” he said quietly, his voice a little hoarse.

“Wrong,” I said. “I want you to take me everywhere.”

He finally opened the front door and we stepped inside. The house smelled amazing, faintly of cedar and black cherry, probably from the cake recipe he’d been refining. We walked through a small entryway where he took off his shoes and I followed suit, as he patiently waited for me to unstrap my ankle boot. My ankle was throbbing a little from earlier, but getting the damn boot off was a relief. It made me feel at home, even in a place I’d never been before.

We went forward to the living room. He flicked on a couple lamps, and I was frozen in place for a moment again.

“Whoa,” I said, glancing around.

“What?”

“It’s incredible,” I said.

“It’s just a little house,” he said. “I’ve done what I can with it.”

“No, Perry, it’s beautiful.”

The walls were painted a beautiful muted azure blue color, and accent lamps dotted most of the tables in the room. The living room had plush, cozy sofas, a small fireplace, a TV hanging on the wall, and plenty of framed photographs on the walls.

“What? You didn’t expect me to have good taste?”

I puffed out a laugh. “Man, you’re going to judge the hell out of my house.”

“I am not. How bad could it be?”

“I’m not exactly good at decorating. You clearly are. Shit, my place looks like a glorified dorm room compared to this.”

“As long as you don’t hang your baseball caps on the wall or anything, we’re good.”

I gave him a sidelong glance. “What’s wrong with doing that?”

“You’re kidding me,” he said.

“What? I’m not saying I hang all of them.”

He let out a laugh, clearly letting off so much of the tension he had built up. I realized that he must have been a little nervous, showing me the inside of his home.

“I’m kidding,” he said. “I won’t judge if you won’t judge. I’m sure I would love your house.”

“Well, I certainly love yours.”

He nodded. “I’ve always liked this place. I’ve put a good bit of care into it. I’ve had these walls about three different colors before I found the perfect shade.”

“It looks amazing.”

“All this place has been missing is another person,” he said.

I turned to him, running my hand along the small of his back. I leaned in and kissed him. “Well, I’m right here.”

“Okay, now I’m impatient,” he said, reaching around to squeeze my ass. “Follow me.”

“I like this side of you,” I said. “You can be impatient all you want if it makes you squeeze my ass.”

He led me down a narrow hallway. More framed black-and-white photographs hung on the walls, and I paused for a second, one of them catching my eye.