More by Sloan Parker (best ebook reader for chromebook .txt) 📕

make a living— pulling out people's hidden skeletons, no matter how old the bones, no matter how genuine the layers of dust covering them were.

The next question: Did he already have something on my father?

Any thoughts of Summers or my father were gone, though, as I watched Matthew. My gaze traveled to his ass. I didn't want to scare him, but I wanted to touch his fine body. Wasn't that one of the benefits Richard mentioned? I stepped close and pressed along his length. He sighed and leaned into me.

Right. Matthew wouldn't be startled by physical contact.

I ran my lips up the side of his neck. My nose grazed his skin. “You smell nice. Like cinnamon and sugar.”

“Luke.” His voice embraced a low moan with the sound of my name mixed in. Matthew wrapped his arm around me and cupped my ass with a wet hand. “I made apple pie for dessert.” He rotated his ass and squeezed mine. “You like herb chicken and roasted potatoes?”

I crushed my groin to his ass and wished like hell I could do more. But he'd made food. I stepped back and sat on a stool. “Sounds good. That was nice of you.”

“Nah. It's no big deal. I like to cook.”

“Where is he?”

Matthew nodded toward the hall. “Working in his office. He had some calls to make.”

“What was it like when he came home?”

Matthew dried his hands on a towel and leaned his forearms on the counter before me. “Weird. I felt like a wife meeting my husband at the door.” He let out a giggle. His head shook with the laughter. “And then I didn't know what to talk to him about. At this point, I know more about what he likes in bed and how his dick feels in my mouth than I do about him. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy to be here. I'm just not sure how to get over the weirdness.”

“I guess we'll either get over it or this won't work out.”

Matthew straightened and frowned.

I wanted to reach out and distract him with more touching, but I didn't want him to think all I expected from him was sex. “I'm gonna head upstairs to change.”

“Okay. Food's almost ready. I'll give you a holler if you aren't back in time.” He returned to the sink and fished out another bowl from the soapy water.

“Leave the dishes. I'll help after we eat.” I didn't wait for a response.

When I returned a few minutes later, Richard sat on a stool at the kitchen counter. He was watching Matthew check the contents of the oven. I joined him, unable to look away from the smaller man. Matthew moved with energy and coordination I never possessed at any time in my life. I wasn't accustomed to spending so much time out of bed with two men whom I wanted with such ferocity. My dick was having a hard time understanding the delay.

Matthew turned, threw a paper towel in the trash, and smiled at us, his expression surprised, horny. “Food's ready. Uh, should we eat here again or in the dining room?”

Richard stood. “Here's fine.” He pulled three glasses from the cabinet. “You guys want water? Milk? Soda?”

I pushed aside the craving for a cold beer. “Water's good.”

The food tasted delicious. Better than the frozen chicken nuggets and corn chips I'd had the night before.

“This apple pie is fabulous,” Richard said. “I haven't had anything so good since my mom's.”

I saw the hint of a smile before Matthew stuffed another bite into his mouth.

As we ate the dessert, Richard asked Matthew about his day, and the two made conversation easily. Matthew talked about how much he despised his new boss and the inventory glitch at work where they'd received three hundred Britney Spears bobblehead pens instead of her new CD. Richard added his own comments about a business deal he was working on to purchase real estate along the lakefront.

It was the longest we'd sat together without discussing sex. Richard and Matthew were interesting, and together they were a comfortable blend of refined authority and lighthearted exuberance. The awkwardness faded away with the food.

Once we polished off the pieces of pie, I helped Richard clear the dishes.

Matthew sat at the counter while we worked. “Richard?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for letting me cook.”

“Thank you for doing it.”

“How long have you lived here?”

“A year. I used to have a house on the north side near the river, but I had to sell it. I needed a change.”

“Did you grow up around here?”

I handed Richard the last two plates and sat next to Matthew. His curiosity astounded me.

Richard closed the dishwasher and hit the start button. “No. I'm from New York. I moved here after college. I head back to visit my parents and my sister's family on holidays when I can. My dad and I are pretty close. He taught me a lot of what I know about business, how to work with people.”

“Any other family?”

“No one I'm close to. How about you? Just you and your mom?”

“Yeah. I've got an aunt and uncle in Texas, but I haven't seen them in years. My mom's great. I came out to her right before my dad ran off. She's been real supportive of me. Always asking if I'm gonna get a boyfriend. At first, I thought me getting serious with someone scared her— like she didn't mind I was gay as long as she didn't have to see it.” He ducked his head and straightened a stack of paper napkins on the counter. “Then I realized it was that I might never find someone that bothered her.”

I envied the innocent love he showed for his mother. I'd never know the feeling again, and the reminder hit me hard.

Richard watched Matthew and said, “I'm glad you have her.”

“Thanks. How about you, Luke?”

I was quiet for a moment. “My parents live here in the city. I don't speak with either of them— or, I should say, they don't speak to me. They