Page 41 of From Coast to Coast

“I’ve never once seen Sanhover smile,” Remy notes, looking down at the picture. It shows all of us lined up with arms around one another: me, Corwin, Troy, Lawson, Nigel, Sam, and Nico. Nobody is standing with their partner, but everyone is standing with someone they love. It’s my favorite picture from the wedding.

“Corwin’s pretty serious,” I agree, turning to rinse my mouth out in the sink and replace the toothbrush. When I return to the bedroom, Remy’s dropped the stack back on the dresser and is pulling his shirt over his head. I walk over and dip my fingers into his waistband, pulling him into a kiss before he can take his own pants off. His hands find their way back to my face as I undress him the rest of the way.

He doesn’t step closer to me, but gives himself enough space to put a hand on my chest at the base of my throat andslide it slowly down to my stomach. A small murmur of approval and he breaks his mouth from mine, grinning.

“Chest hair,” is all he says, before fusing his lips back to mine and continuing to explore my upper body.

I let my own hands wander a bit—careful fingers trailing over soft, smooth skin. I trace the surgical scar low on his stomach, and run my palms upward to cup his ribs. He makes a low noise as I do it, pressing his lips to mine more firmly and kissing me deeply. I use my grip on him to turn him toward the bed, walking him backward carefully. I don’t want to stop kissing him, but neither do I want to give him an injury by walking him into the furniture.

“Can we—can I….” Remy’s out of breath, fingers clenching and unclenching where they are curled low on my hips. I lean back enough to see his face—flushed cheeks, eyes wide, and lips glistening. I move back a little farther, because he’s painfully beautiful and it hurts a little bit, seeing him this close.

“Do you want to stop?” I ask. His eyebrows shoot up his forehead and settle somewhere near his hairline.

“No. Fuck. Of course not.” He closes his eyes briefly. “I wish I had, like, four more hands so I could touch everywhere, all at once.”

Laughing, I skim my thumbs along the soft skin of his hips. We’re hovering near the bed, half-naked and both of us hard. I want to lay him on the bed and sink myself so deep inside him, he’ll feel me for days.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Remy

The factthat Grayson’s body is so appealing to me kind of blows my mind. The chest hair, the muscles, the solidweightof him—it’s all attractive to me, no matter how different he is than anybody I’ve ever been attracted to in the past. It’s equal parts terrifying and exciting. I decide to lean into the exciting.

“You mind if I drive on this one?” I ask him. He shakes his head, like I knew he would.

“Where do you want me?”

“Well, first”—I finger the waistband on his boxers while sliding the palm of my other hand over his package—“you need to be naked. After that, can you just lie down?”

I nod toward the bed and he murmurs an agreement. We finish stripping and he does as I asked, situating himself in the center of the bed and spreading his legs slightly. I look at him, trying to figure out the logistics of how I’m supposed to get a dick that large inside me. It’s possible—I know it is—but it also looks inevitable that I’ll be walking funny tomorrow. Instead of thinking myself in circles, I climb onto the bed next to him. Knees near his hips, I plant my hands by his shoulders and lean over him.

“Do you have a preference?” I ask, confident that he’ll know what I mean.

“Top.”

I laugh. “Fucking knew it. You’re the toppiest top of them all.”

He scrunches up his nose in offense. It’s cute, so I lean down to kiss him.

“You’re right,” he tells me when we pause long enough for him to speak. “But you’re new to this. I’m not going to make you bottom just because I don’t want?—"

“No,” I cut him off. “I’ll bottom. That’s what I want to do.”

“Well…” Grayson looks uncertain.

“Really, Gray. I’d tell you if I didn’t want to do something; this is something I definitely want. This is the easiest way to do it, right?” I gesture at his prone form. “Cowgirl?”

“Yeah,” he answers slowly. “It would give you more control.”

“Great,” I say brightly. “Let’s grab the lube and get this party started.”

I glance around, pointing a questioning look at the nightstand. Grayson nods, so I sling a leg over him and reach into the top drawer. The box of condoms I pull out is unopened. He huffs a soft, slightly embarrassed laugh.

“It’s been a long time. I was kind of worried the ones I had before were expired.”

“Very responsible.” I grin, opening the box and pulling out what I need before putting it back. He reaches out a handfor the condom, but I push it away gently and slide it on him myself. I linger a little bit, experimentally rolling my hand around his shaft before dancing my fingers over his balls. He’s watching me as I do, eyes on mine.

I keep a hold of the lube in one hand and shuffle my knees forward until I can bend over to easily kiss him. It’s so different—kissing Grayson—with his scratchy face and deep moans. Even with my eyes firmly closed there is no mistaking the body below mine as anything but male.