“Guess that’s my cue to leave,” Katana says from the boat. He hops down onto the deck. “I’ll tell everyone you two will miss dinner.” He winks at us and bumps fists with Dragon.
His departure is silent, as per usual with Katana, and the only reason I know he’s no longer near us is because the engine on his bike rumbles a few seconds later. Dragon tugs me onto the boat, nearly bouncing on his toes with excitement.
“What is this? You’re going to live here?” I ask in confusion.
He shoves me against a floor-to-ceiling cabinet once inside and licks my neck all the way up to my earlobe. “No, baby, we’re going to live here.”
My mind scatters in a thousand different directions.
“Wait? Are you asking me to move in with you?” I gape at him. “Dragon, what the hell? I thought you wanted to break up!”
He nips at my earlobe, tugging hard. “Did you forget that whole ‘you’re mine’ part? I didn’t stutter, baby. Clear as fucking day. You. Are. Mine.”
“But…”
“But nothing. Now you get to help me and Katana finish the renovation. Bet you wish you would have reined in the bitchiness a little while longer.”
I try to shove him off of me, but he pins me with his hips. His dick is hard as it rubs against my own aching erection. “I hate you so much.”
He grins, wide and beautiful and powerful enough to light up the entire world. “I love you too, Cove.”
I’m stunned to realize this isn’t a joke for him. His emotions are unguarded on his face. We’re not a passing phase. We’re so, so much more.
“I don’t hate you,” I admit. “I don’t think I ever did.”
He kisses my mouth like he needs the words to survive. I don’t want him to have to forage for them, though. I want to feed them to him one by one like grapes from a vine.
“I love you for some reason,” I murmur. “I need you. You’re mine.”
His lashes flutter against his high cheekbones and he rests his forehead to mine. “This is our home now. I wanted a place that was for us. Neither of us has really had much of a life. It’s time to change that.”
Jerking him to me, I hug him tight, burying my nose against his sun-warmed flesh, inhaling his masculine scent I adore.
“Okay,” I agree. “Let’s do it.”
“I wasn’t asking, baby.”
“Well, I was tellin’ anyway.” I tug at his belt as I seek his lips with mine. “Just like I’m telling you now that you’re going to fuck me. Right here in this kitchen.” I grin against his mouth. “I’ve been told I’m a sassy bottom.”
He growls, nipping at my jaw. “By fucking who?”
“Stormy.”
His laughter warms me to my soul. “I mean, I think she’s onto something, but I prefer bitchy bottom. Has a nice ring to it. In fact, maybe I should paint over the boat name—”
I silence his teasing by shoving my hand into his pants and gripping his thickness. “Hush, boyfriend, we have a houseboat to christen.”
“If the boat is a rockin’, don’t come a knockin’.”
“Oh my God. That’s such a lame fucking dad joke. Did Owen teach you that one?”
He snorts. “Fuck off, BP.”
The jokes get discarded like the clothes on our body, at our feet and forgotten. Dragon consumes me whole like he’s done from day one. He’s fire and I’m timber. I want to burn only for him.
Buried deep inside me and his teeth digging into the flesh on my neck, I imagine a long future ahead of us. Many, many more days like this. Sex, love, maybe even a family one day. Whatever I can get with Dragon feels like more than I deserve.
It isn’t until we’re both spent and are sprawled out on the bed in our little houseboat that I relax. This is my life now. Him. Us. And it’s all I could ever want.
“Love you, baby.”
Hmm, I want a lot more of those.
What can I say? I’m a greedy boy.
Bermuda
Thanksgiving…
I’ve never cooked for this many people, but our Royal Bastards family keeps growing, especially now that Dragon’s family will be joining us this year too. Not that I’m complaining. I love the chaos. These guys are my brothers through and through. I’d go to hell and back for any damn one of them.
Still, it’d be nice if one of those fuckers would get off their ass and help me out. I glance out the window, searching for someone I can force to help me, but when I catch a glimpse of Cove straddling Dragon’s lap and Dragon’s hand down the back of Cove’s jeans, I groan.
Scratch that idea.
A chilly presence enters the kitchen despite the heat billowing from the stove. I don’t have to turn around to know who it is. Erin is the ice queen around here. Most days, she hides out at Copper and Stormy’s, but when she’s forced to socialize with the group, she brings her ice daggers, usually aimed for my heart.