Chapter Thirty
Rayne
Rayne woke in his own bed in the morning, knowing only one thing for sure—that he was kissed and held tight in warm arms until he could no longer keep his eyes open, but he’d slept alone. Mike had been the perfect gentleman, regardless that Rayne had wanted more.
He stretched his long arms like a lion that’d been sunbathing for hours before he cracked his eyelids open. Rayne’s internal clock told him it was well past his usual time that he woke, and by the way the sunlight was beaming through the curtains, he’d guess it was almost noon.
Rayne rolled over and saw a torn piece of paper with a bright yellow flower lying on top of it. A broad grin broke through on his face as he sat up and read the almost illegible writing.
I’m working in the backyard, breakfast is downstairs. Rayne brought the flower to his nose and inhaled. He hurried out of bed and ran to his bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth, which he did in record time. He rifled through his duffle bag and chose a pair of loose black track pants that hung low on his hip bones and a white flowy, button-up shirt that he left open.
Rayne was halfway down the stairs when the smell of maple syrup and bacon made his stomach rumble. The house looked different in the daylight. The skylights in the living room made everything appear brighter and less drab. Mike’s furniture was all dark browns and void of any character, but it looked like a cozy sofa to curl up on and talk. Rayne walked barefoot into the kitchen, noticing the multiple Village Breakfast Café boxes, and went straight to the smorgasbord Mike had displayed on the counters.
Did he order one of everything? Rayne laughed. There were waffles, pancakes, cinnamon rolls, croissants, hash browns, link sausage, eggs and bacon, and even a large container of fruit. Rayne picked up a few pieces of cantaloupe and popped them into his mouth, followed by the exceptionally sweet pineapple chunks.
Rayne skipped the coffee and poured himself a glass of orange juice from one of the to-go cartons, then went toward the back of the house in search of his desire. The patio doors were already open, and the moment Rayne stepped outside, he felt as if he’d been transported to another country. He didn’t believe he was in Norfolk, Virginia, anymore.
“This is unbelievable,” Rayne gasped, gazing up at the blossoming orange and lemon trees. No wonder Mike’s house was boring inside—all of the flair and personality, everything that screamed Mike, was outside.
It felt like summer was trying to come early as Rayne tilted his head back and let the sun’s rays beat on his face and chest. The scent of pine, mulch, and roses made his head fuzzy as he stepped onto the fresh-mowed grass and dug his toes into the softness.
“Morning, sleepyhead.” Mike was standing there in a pair of grass-stained jeans and a worn Coors Light T-shirt, watching him.
“I haven’t slept that good in months.” Rayne’s cheeks were warm, but it wasn’t from the sun.
Mike walked toward him. The veins in his forearms looked more prominent, and his sweat-dampened skin was tanned darker than his normal. He removed his thick work gloves and tossed them to the ground, a feral glint gleaming in his dark eyes. Rayne licked his lips, his dick getting harder from just a look. Mike’s gaze traveled over Rayne’s chest, then down his abdomen, causing his body to heat from the inside out. Mike stopped close enough that Rayne could smell his sweat and the robust scent of coffee on his breath.
“Damn.” Mike ran his knuckles over the light brown hairs below Rayne’s navel. His eyes were hooded, and his voice was devilishly low when he asked, “Did you wear this sexy shit for me?”
Rayne tongued his cheek. “Sexy shit.”
“Yeah,” Mike said, wielding a seductive grin. “What is that… linen?”
Rayne quirked a brow. Excuse me? “No… I do not wear linen. This is Loro Piana mulberry silk. I got it from—” Rayne snapped his mouth shut. He sounded like a pretentious asshole. What did a man like Mike care about a men’s boutique in Paris? He opened his mouth again, but words failed him.
Mike moaned low and deep. “Silk, huh?”
“Yeah.” Rayne nibbled on his bottom lip until Mike cupped his chin and tilted his head upward to meet his mouth. His lips were warm and sun-kissed, and Rayne dipped his tongue in first for a taste.
The kiss went from zero to one hundred fast as Rayne got lost in the oasis and the environment, standing barefoot on the noon grass as butterflies fluttered around a nearby pot of marigolds. He closed his eyes to the sound of birds chirping by a feeder hanging from the low branch of a blooming magnolia tree, and somewhere was the sound of trickling water.
Mike walked them backward until Rayne’s back was pressed against the wide base of a tree. He could feel the hard wood through his flimsy “sexy shit” shirt when he arched to get closer to Mike’s pelvis.
“You taste sweet,” Mike rumbled, then sucked hard on Rayne’s bottom lip.
“Mmm,” Rayne managed. “Thank you for the breakfast.”
Mike’s breath was ragged as he dragged his nose across Rayne’s cheek and behind his ear, the soft-spoken words pulsing like shiatsu balls beneath Mike’s sack. “I’ll never get any work done with you out here.”
“Why?”
Mike released a hushed scoff against his mouth. “Because I won’t be able to keep my hands off you… and I think you know that,” he said, circling Rayne’s hard nipple with the pad of his thumb.
Fuck. Yes. Rayne shuddered. “Mike.”
“See? And I have a lot to get done if I want you to myself tonight.”
“Then let me help.” Rayne saw the shock register on Mike’s face before he could hide it. “And don’t look at me like that.”