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“If you get stressed, imagine I’m wearing my ‘Come in me, Daddy’ anal plug.” Wren winks.
I press my knuckle against my lips. “That is a fucking gorgeous image.”
“Will you, when we get home?”
I lean over the centre console and kiss him. “You know I will, baby.” I sit upright. “We don’t have to stay long. There will be a lot of drinking, especially as it gets later.”
“One last blowout before the season starts?”
I smile. “Something like that. I’d normally get shit-faced with the rest of them, but if I do that, I won’t be able to enjoy you afterwards.”
“Plus, you’re driving.”
“That’s why I’m driving. It’s a good excuse not to drink without spelling out that I’m staying sober because I want to make love to my gorgeous boyfriend later.”
Wren lets out a dramatic gasp. “You mean you’re not going to tell all your friends that I’m your cum slut?”
I stare at him for a second.
He cackles. “I’m joking.”
“Yeah, I knew that.”
It’s his turn to squeeze my hand. “What we do at home and our relationship dynamic is our business, not theirs. All they need to know is that we’re together, and I’m crazy about you.”
“I love you too.” I put my hand on his nape and pull him to me for another long kiss. “We could go home and do more kissing.”
After giving a month’s notice on his flat, Wren officially moved in a week ago. In reality, we’d started moving his things over straight away because neither of us could wait to live together.
“We could—” he says.
“But we won’t.”
“Yet.” Wren grins. “I’m looking forward to meeting your team.”
“They’ll love you.”
“I hope so.”
I stroke his cheek. “You’re amazing, Wren. Everyone will love you.”
He blushes.
I undo my seat belt, get out of the car, and jog around to the other side to open the door for him.
“Thank you, Daddy,” he whispers.
“You’re welcome, boy,” I reply in an equally quiet voice.
I take his hand, and we walk to the front door together and press the bell.
Rob, my team captain, opens the door a moment later. Like me, he’s a big, imposing man, but he has a heart of gold.
“Tanner!” He gives me a bear hug. “And you must be Wren.” He shakes Wren’s hand as he holds his other hand against the side of his mouth. “Tanner doesn’t stop talking about you,” he adds in a stage whisper.
Wren starts blushing again. The red on his face and neck makes the baby pink T-shirt look washed out, as though the colour has bled out of it and into his skin.
“Come in,” Rob says. “You’re almost the last to arrive. Good timing, though. The caterers have finished making the first wave of food.”
