Andy blearily blinked the sleep from his eyes as the coffee slowly drip…drip…dripped into the glass carafe. The dribble paused before giving up its final spurt of the anticipated brew with a familiar hiss. He almost failed to notice the faint swish of silk pajama material rubbing against itself as taut thighs—far stronger than Andy had anticipated—brought their owner to the kitchen doorway. Almost.

Should he turn and face Grant to see how his longtime best friend, but newly designated boyfriend had handled their first night sleeping together? Actually, “first night sleeping together” wasn’t technically true. They’d shared a bed for sleeping in the past. It was what had come before that sleep last night that was a first between them.

What would work best? Dance around the lumbering elephant that had taken up residence in the kitchen? Address it head on? Or should he wait to see what Grant did or said first?

Grant cleared his throat. A sound that could sometimes be taken at face value. It was morning, and throats need to be cleared. But Andy’s familiarity with the nuances of Grant’s…well, everything…had him snapping to attention faster than if a judge had banged his gavel while bellowing “Order in the court!” In this case, “disorder” was more likely to follow, but it had to be faced.

Andy turned and smiled. “Coffee?”

“Really? That’s the tact you’re going to take? Like it’s just another morning, and we didn’t get off with each other…twice…last night?”

“Sorry.” Andy grimaced. “I’m trying not to overthink things.”

Grant’s snort was laced with mirth rather than with suspicion. “You’ll always overthink things. That’s part of who you are.”

And apparently not a big problem. Andy expelled a soft breath. “So, um, you want to hash it all out or something?”

The signature eye roll Andy should have expected was, of course, executed along with a set of air quotes. “Hash it out?” Grant lifted a shoulder in a deceptively casual manner. “Whatever.”

“I just mean, you want some reassurance that last night didn’t screw up our friendship? That’s cool. So do I, I suppose. I just feel a little more secure about it based on how well everything went. Or seemed to?” Andy knew he was babbling, but that was another one of those things he couldn’t seem to stop himself from doing. “But I know you feel better when things are said, so yeah, let’s talk it out.”

Grant pulled a couple mugs out of a cabinet. They didn’t thump too loudly when he placed them on the counter, which was a good sign. Verbalizing things might be how best to clear the air with Grant, but understanding the man was all about recognizing all the non-verbal cues he gave out. And he gave out plenty.

“So, it wasn’t too weird for you, either?” Grant said. “Because we both know you’re not my usual type, and I’m not yours, either.”

Andy snickered, remembering how they’d both chased after “Dreamy Daniel.” He shrugged. “I guess my ‘type’ has less to do with physical qualities, and more to do with being with someone I care about and can trust with my heart.”

Grant’s lips pursed as he stared back silently. What had been wrong with that statement?

Oh. “Not that there’s anything wrong with your physical qualities. It’s just…you know.”

Grant sighed. “Yeah, I know. We’re not musclebound hunks with deep rumbly voices and just the perfect amount of chest hair to rake our fingers through.”

Andy laughed. “But dude, your expertise with your tongue…”

One side of Grant’s mouth lifted, and he waggled his eyebrows with comedic flair. “Liked that one move, did you?”

The coffee could wait. Andy put his hands on Grant’s waist and gently drew him closer. “You have to ask?”

Grant went straight for the spot on the side of Andy’s neck that he’d oh-so-quickly figured out drove Andy wild. At Andy’s gasp, Grant murmured, “Maybe we should have another go before making any rash decisions.”

Andy’s lips curved into a smile. He was pretty sure the decision was pretty solidly made—for both of them—but he tipped Grant’s face up for a proper kiss anyway.