The next morning found Julian, not in the bed in the guestroom that Mrs. Butler had prepared for him, but in Tate’s room, cradling the sleeping former Marine against his chest. After leaving the pool and going to bed, the two had made love in every conceivable way most of the night. It was as if a dam had burst for both of them, releasing their pent up needs and emotions.
Julian bent down and kissed the sleeping man’s head. Tate stirred. He opened his eyes and looked up at Julian. Tate smiled and stretched up to kiss him.
“What time is it?” he asked, his voice still reflecting sleep.
“Seven thirty-three,” Julian replied, looking beyond Tate to the clock on the bedside table.
“Good! Then we’ve got time before Mary gets here for my therapy session.”
“Time for what?” Julian asked, knowin
