Page 44 of Hurricane Love

WYLIE

Wylie had neverin his life experienced sex like that. Never before had he been so in tune with a partner or been able to anticipate their every need and desire. For as reserved as Diego was in most aspects of life, he was incredibly expressive in bed. Slow to trust, certainly, but once he let go and allowed Wylie to lead, they’d created something magical. This must be what people talked about when they called itmaking love.

“Gotta figure out a way to wife him now,” Wylie said to himself while turning over the strips of bacon in the pan. They sizzled and popped to the sounds of Sade singing smooth jazz melodies in the background, another of his mom’s favorites. He’d left the big guy asleep in bed, figuring he’d get a head start on breakfast and show Diego that he was a provider in addition to being a sex god. The way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, everyone knew that. Wylie hummed happily and plotted his next move.

“Those sweats are doing too much.”

Wylie spun around, slightly startled to find Diego leaned against the wall, eyeing him up like a snack. Diego wore sleep pants and the same t-shirt as the day before, his dark hair sticking up every which way from bed head and a soft, sleepysmile on his face. Wylie was loving the look of morning-after Diego.

“I wore them for you. I know how they turn you on.” Wylie jutted out his hips to accentuate his junk.

Shaking his head with amusement, Diego came closer and scanned him from head to foot. “You’re going to get grease burns from not wearing a shirt. Let me do that.” He took the fork from Wylie and fished out some of the burnt strips, setting them on a plate lined with paper towels before adding additional slices. Wyle was happy to have the help. Honestly, he wasn’t great at cooking, mainly because it required a lot of multi-tasking. And it was one of those things where getting distracted, as he often did, could be dangerous.

“Do youwantme to put a shirt on?” Wylie asked, rubbing one hand along his navel to direct Diego’s attention back to his dick.

“No, just do something less dangerous,” he said and waved him off, now focused intently on not letting the bacon burn.

“All right. How do you like your eggs?”

“Scrambled is fine.”

“Cheese?”

“Yeah.”

Wylie added a few slices of bread to the toaster oven, then set to beating the eggs. They worked well together in a domestic setting, same as the pit. Making breakfast together like it was any other day? Wylie fucking loved that. He warmly recalled last night when Diego had put his full faith in Wylie to deliver, and after a brief bout of nerves, Wylie had taken care of business. Seeing Diego fall apart like that had been a memorable experience, one he wanted to revisit again and again. Now, all he had to do was lock it down. Diego would be on board with that, wouldn't he?

“Add a little milk to the eggs,” Diego instructed. “Makes ‘em fluffier.”

“Yes, sir,” Wylie answered, happy to comply. “Salt and pepper?”

“Yeah, you got any hot sauce?”

“Sure do. Condiments are my jam.”

They plated the food and sat down at his little table and chairs by the window. A lot of the decor had belonged to his mother or one of his neighbors before him. The space was cramped but cozy, enough for one person and possibly one moreveryspecial man. Wylie would certainly make room. He let Diego get a few bites in before he broached the topic.

“So, I really enjoyed what we did last night.” Wylie tried not to smile and failed. You never knew how sex was going to go with a new partner, and Wylie felt as if they’d both struck gold.

Diego glanced up from his food, a suspicious look on his face, but that was pretty much standard for him. “Me too,” he said cautiously.

“And I wanted to make it clear, in case it wasn’t already, that I’m not talking to anyone else or even trying to.”

“I should hope not,” Diego said with a frown, looking put out by the mere suggestion. A good sign, wasn’t it?

“And, are you?” Wyle asked.

“No. Obviously,” Diego said and raised one hand as if offended.

Wylie was heartened by that response because it seemed that they were on the same page. “Cool. So, I thought maybe we should make it official?”

Diego set down his fork and leaned back in his seat, strong brow furrowing with consternation. He looked exactly like Frank in that moment, whenever Frank was about to argue with one of Wylie’s excellent and transformational ideas. “Official, how?” Diego asked.

“Be my boyfriend.”

Diego blinked and didn’t say anything at first, only wiped his mouth with his napkin and stared back at Wylie with something like bewilderment. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Well, that stung. Wylie had expected an enthusiasticyes.Had he misread the situation, or was Diego simply afraid of commitment?Did he think it was too soon? Rather than continue to spiral, Wylie decided he’d just ask. Growth and all that.