Cardinal (Love in Los Angeles, #4)

2-5

IN THE MORNING, PAUL wakes to find Alex smiling at him. The sun is bright and warm through the uncovered windows, a strange luxury that comes with the isolation not just of this house but of this country. Paul smiles back and says nothing. Alex has always been the one who doesn’t need words, but right now talking feels unnecessary for him, too.

“Hungover?” Alex eventually asks.

“Hardly. Sleep. Sun. You. I’m all right.”

Alex smiles, and Paul shifts closer to him. With Alex’s body so different, they don’t quite fit together in the way he remembers.

“What about you?” Paul asks.

“I barely drank. And, aside from our friends’ constant presence in my house which is interfering with my plans for Icelandic hibernation? I’ve got you. I’m good.”

“Well,” Paul says with a grin he knows is ridiculous. “No one’s right here right now except us.”

“There are other people in the house.” Alex objects.

“Except our rooms don’t share a wall and it has officially been too long since I touched you.”

Alex smiles so broadly his eyes crinkle up. “Okay then.”

He seems happy to have Paul roll on top of him, smiling into the kiss and relaxing back into the mattress. Paul considers making a joke about having to do all the work, but now is not the time for charming snark about the routine of married s*x.

Paul licks a stripe down Alex’s chest and nips at Alex’s thigh instead.

“Marking. Good? Bad?” he asks. He wants to be absolutely clear on what he’s allowed to do before Alex stops him in the middle of anything.

“Viking warrior. You’ve seen what I’ve done to myself. Makeup doesn’t care.”

But when Paul shoves Alex’s legs up so he can lick over his hole, he whines and pushes him away.

“Alex?” Paul is confused. Normally, he loves this.

Alex doesn’t say anything. Instead, he gets up on his knees and shoves Paul back onto the pillows. Paul goes, fascinated by the switch and by the way Alex is staring at him as if entranced.

When Alex folds himself, as best he can, between Paul’s knees Paul thinks he’s going to get a b*****b, which he is totally on board for. But then Alex presses his fingertips into Paul’s thighs, and his own face between Paul’s cheeks.

Paul can’t quite help gasping. He moans when Alex starts rimming him. He cranes his head up as best he can, because he wants to watch, and finds Alex staring at him, his eyes dark and intense.

Alex almost never does this. The unusualness of it is nearly as shocking as the sensation. He’s determined, though, and kneads his calloused palms into Paul’s thighs. When Paul shoves his hands into his hair, he whimpers softly.

The spell doesn’t break when Paul comes. Alex keeps l*****g and kissing over what is now far-too-sensitive skin until Paul flips them and, grinning, goes down on him in return.

The sun flooding the bedroom is hot on Paul’s bare skin. The soft rhythmic creak of the bed as Alex arches under his mouth is soothing. Everything is bright: The white bedding, the snowfield outside the window, and Alex’s pale skin dotted with scratches and bruises.

***

* * * *

WHEN ALEX AND PAUL emerge from their bedroom, Carly and Liam look them over, look at each other, and look away in perfect synchronicity.

As amusing as that is, Alex narrows his eyes. “What?” he demands.

Liam grins. “Glad you guys had a good morning.”

“You’ve earned it,” Carly puts in.

“Your room isn’t next to ours,” Alex hisses, bending down to scoop Claudia up out of her playpen. The babies may have no idea what the adults are talking about but Ali is sitting at the table and totally doesn’t need to hear this.

Claudia, for her part, chatters happily and digs her tiny fingers into his sweater. Alex is glad he opted for the ponytail today. Little hands pulling long hair hurts.

“Nooooo, but the bathroom is,” Liam says.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Carly grins. “Liam had a good morning too.”

Alex closes his eyes and groans.

***