Authors: Cameron Dane
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Zane ran his hand down the line of Noah’s spine, and Noah couldn’t control the shudder that racked through him.
Jesus. Another minute and I’m going to be rock hard.
His voice so fucking strained, Noah confessed, “You’re killing me here, man.”
“Look at me.” Zane’s voice, the feel of his breath caressing Noah’s nape, and his palm branding Noah through his T-shirt, all pushed at the needs Noah had been fighting from the moment he’d met this man. Zane then slipped his hand to Noah’s hip, where Noah could picture Zane holding him as they fucked, and the avalanche of wanting came crashing down on Noah in a maelstrom. Zane pushed once more. “Tell me why you didn’t come and talk to me.”
With a fast turn, Noah found himself right in Zane’s face. Too close to ignore. He said in a viciously soft tone, “Because I was fucking talking about you. Okay?” Noah twisted his hand in Zane’s shirt and pushed him away. “You. We were talking about you.”
Rather than take the hint, Zane curled his hand around the fist Noah had bunched in his shirt and kept them connected in another way. “About what?” The way he squeezed his fingers around Noah’s hand implored in a way that hammered straight through the hard shell protecting Noah’s deepest desires. Leaning his weight against the connection, his eyes so fucking beautiful, Zane said, “Tell me.”
Noah snaked his hand around Zane’s neck and yanked him in close. There was hardly enough room for a sliver of paper to fit between their bodies. “We talked about how fucking much I want you, Zane.” Noah could barely breathe through the pounding in his heart. “God help me,” he searched every inch of Zane’s face, memorizing, worshipping, “but I fucking ache to be with you more and more every day we’re together.” Noah then dipped down, the pull too strong to ignore. Just as he got dangerously close to Zane’s lips, so goddamn eager to take a taste, their location, and whose mouth he was about to take, rocketed him back into reality. Hard. “Shit.” Noah scrambled away, angry at himself and afraid of the need coursing through him like the highest grade alcohol. “I knew seeing you every day would be a bad idea.” He looked at Zane, the guy still as a statue, and everything he’d almost done made Noah stumble back against the shower wall. “I said I would never cross a line with you, and I meant it. I—”
Zane rushed forward and slammed his hand over Noah’s mouth. His stare, so very steady, bore a hole through Noah, straight to his heart. As Zane let go, he curled his hand around Noah’s nape and drew him down. “Cross the line, Noah. I want you to.” He lifted to his toes, pressed their foreheads together, and whispered against Noah’s lips, “Please.”
No.
Noah’s heart leaped into his throat, and his cock reared to full staff faster than it ever had before. Terror raced through him, and his hands shook like hell.
This can’t be real.
He looked into Zane’s eyes; he parted his lips to speak, needing something more, but nothing came out. The question must have vibrated through every element of his being, though, because Zane nodded, his forehead still attached to Noah’s, and softly said, “Yes.”
Drowning too fast to get out of the water, too needful of a drink to feed his thirsty soul, Noah groaned and slipped completely under the tide. He slashed his lips across Zane’s and kissed him with a voraciousness that had no equal in his life.
Oh Christ. Too fucking good.
Losing himself, Noah crushed and bit and licked at Zane’s mouth, too hungry, too rough, but unable to retreat. Just as Noah licked deep, tasting the honey-sweetness that was Zane’s flavor, Zane moaned in response, sank every bit of his weight against Noah, and tentatively began kissing Noah back. On the inside, Noah cried out with joy. Zane pushed in closer, making them both stumble into the shower wall, and he took his first lick into Noah’s mouth.
Oh fuck, yes.
Zane flicked his tongue against Noah’s again, and Noah went up in flames. He wrapped his arms around Zane and jerked them flush together, desperate for crushing, full body contact. As Noah took Zane’s mouth, trembling every time Zane stole a taste of him too, he ran his hands all up and down Zane’s sleek back, reveling in the hot flesh warming his palms through the thin T-shirt Zane wore. Noah wanted skin against skin, though, and cursed the layer of fabric that kept his hands off Zane’s tight body. Pushing his hands under Zane’s shirt, Noah shoved at the material, hating that getting the T-shirt off meant breaking their kiss, but too desperate for Zane’s skin to let him keep his shirt on. While he was at it, in a frantic tear, Noah ripped his shirt off too and tossed it to the floor.
Breathing heavily, his sight foggy with desire, Noah stared at Zane, glorying in his bare chest and flat, hard stomach. While intellectually Noah knew he’d seen Zane shirtless before, in his gut, this time it was different. The sight of all that firm male flesh—with a bit of a tan now—rushed blood to Noah’s cock and balls, but this time he didn’t have to hide it. Zane studied Noah in return, with equal brightness illuminating his blue eyes, and that open perusal only made Noah’s dick stiffer. Noah ran his hand along his rigid-as-hell shaft, trying to adjust himself in his jeans. As Zane’s focus dropped, following Noah’s hand, Zane sucked in an audible breath. Zane pushed at the waist of his shorts, and the very tip of his erection emerged from the waistband.
Shit.
Noah’s nostrils flared; he was certain he could smell Zane’s arousal.
Both men jerked back up to eye contact, and the heat arcing between them had each flying at the other again. Their lips met with searing contact, and Noah grabbed hold of Zane’s hair to tilt the angle of his head for deeper access. He ate his way into Zane’s mouth, and the man’s taste mainlined sugar straight into Noah’s bloodstream. The need to dominate coursed through Noah unchecked, and he muttered an apology against Zane’s lips for his roughness. His total possession of Zane’s mouth limited Zane’s ability to reciprocate and taste in return, but Noah did not know how to stop.
With a tight, high moan, Zane pushed at the thin levels of Noah’s control in another way. He put his hands on Noah’s stomach, causing the flesh there to quiver, and then worked his way up Noah’s chest, down his arms, to around his back. Zane instigated the lightest glide of fingertips against the small of Noah’s back, and Noah felt the soft contact as if Zane had done the same to his cock. Zane edged those fingers into the seam of Noah’s jeans, touched the cleft of his ass, and Noah closed his eyes and quaked where he stood.
Oh fuck.
As Noah went statue-still, Zane rubbed against Noah and took his chance to lick his way past Noah’s lips. He pecked small kisses everywhere, and then went deeper with sweet, tentative darts of his tongue, learning Noah’s mouth in a way Noah had never imagined Zane ever would.
Shit.
Noah scraped his lips across Zane’s in return, then did it again, and again, until he needed with such desperation he pushed his way inside for another full taste. With a throaty little noise, Zane grabbed hold of Noah’s hips, holding him, and rocked their cocks together, creating the most excruciatingly wonderful sensation Noah had ever experienced.
So fucking hard.
Noah needed to fuck Zane. Now. In a flash, he assessed the layout of the bathroom. Noah saw himself bending Zane over the sink and jamming into the man’s wonderful ass from behind, rutting so deep into Zane’s body that he took them right up onto the counter, where he would trap Zane against the mirror for the full brunt of his thrusts. Then, Noah would take Zane to the floor, onto his back, and spread him wide open for the full pounding of Noah’s cock. Noah’s roar of pleasure at completion would be so great he’d send every goddamn neighbor on the block running to see what was going on.
Still attached to Zane, Noah shoved, frantically guiding them both out of the shower stall. So out of control, Noah pushed Zane over a box of tiles and sent the man careening toward the glass. Yanking on Zane’s arm, Noah pulled him back mere inches before he would have crashed into the glass wall of the stall. Noah’s heart lurched into his throat. At the same time, a thousand other pieces of reality rushed at him like oncoming race cars: where he was, what he’d been doing, and who he’d been about to do it with—everything penetrated Noah’s brain at once. The fog cleared. As Noah looked at Zane, other truths bore down on Noah too, weighing him down with shame, embarrassment … and debilitating hurt.
Lava still rushed through Noah’s veins, and his prick still raged hard enough to snap off like glass, but with his face burning for an entirely different reason now, he grabbed Zane’s shirt off the floor and thrust it at the younger man. “Here.” Noah grabbed his own too. “Put your shirt on,” he ordered, as he did the same.
Open confusion mapped Zane’s handsome face. “What?” He struggled into a T-shirt that clung to every sleek line roping his torso. “Why did you stop?”
Every suppressed need in Noah’s body pushed at him, tried to move him a step closer to Zane and drag the man back into his arms. But beyond the fact that they were in a workplace, and that Noah had violated professional boundaries—not to mention that the homeowner could have come home and walked in on them—one other fact seared itself into Noah’s brain and heart now more than any other. “We can’t do this. You’re straight, Zane.” Exposed vulnerability roughened Noah’s voice. “When I told you I was gay, you said you were straight.”
Pushing his hands through his hair, Zane then clasped his fingers behind his neck. “I know. I thought I was. But I’ve never done anything, with anyone, so maybe I’m not. Maybe I was just asleep inside until you came along. God, Noah,” Zane closed the gap between them and tugged on Noah’s shirt, right against his belly, “you’ve woken me up big-time. Forget that I’ve never felt this way about another man; I’ve never felt it for a girl or a woman either.”
Noah dropped his weight back against the shower wall, uncaring that he’d have to repair all the work he’d just spent an hour doing. His gaze on Zane, the heels of his hands digging into his forehead, Noah waged an internal battle. “Christ, you just admitted again that you don’t have any experience.” Bleak sadness filled his chest, making the muscles there squeeze. “You’re so young, and you’re grateful to me for helping you.”
“No,” Zane responded, lightning fast. The second he did, Noah raised both his brows, and Zane flushed with color. “Okay, fine. When I first starting thinking about you in this way—thinking about kissing you, and thinking about your body so much—I wondered if maybe it was only because you’d been so nice to me. But now, with the things I’ve been feeling for you, and the stuff I’ve been picturing us doing together, I don’t believe it’s happening because of gratitude anymore.”
I don’t believe…
Three little words that each poked a tiny knife into Noah’s heart. “But you’re not sure,” he said, his throat tightening. “And in the short time since I’ve rediscovered my sexuality, I’ve been crushed once already. I don’t think I could bear it if you woke up one day in six months, with your feet under you and everything going right, and you decided you’re straight after all.”
Zane parted his lips, but just then the distinct sound of the front door squeaking as it opened made him close his mouth. The homeowner shouted, “I’m back! I have some sodas for you guys, if you’re thirsty,” and killed what little remained of Noah’s erection. Zane’s cock no longer peeked out of his shorts either.
With a sigh, and a scrub to his face, Noah said, “Let’s just get as much work done in the hour more I have you,” Zane would leave then to take his siblings to their sitter and then head to his other job, “and shelve this conversation for another day, when we’ve both had some time to think.”
Zane looked like he wanted to protest, but the homeowner entered the bathroom then, sodas in her hands, and took care of the debate for Noah. As most homeowners do, she stayed to chat after that, supervising while Zane and Noah worked, until well after Zane had to leave. Forget the chance for a private conversation; with the homeowner, neither got much of a word in edgewise, period. Noah didn’t know whether to kiss her or strangle her.
Noah knew one thing: that he didn’t know what the hell was the right thing to say or do when he and Zane met next. Noah had never been more confused.
Fuck.
Chapter 10
At four a.m. Noah gave up his battle to fall asleep. As he got up to take a piss, he wondered who in the hell he was trying to kid? Darkness saved him from having to face himself in the mirror when he washed his hands, but it didn’t matter; he knew what he would see if he looked himself in the eyes: smoldering hunger for a much younger man.
Goddammit, though. Noah’s mind had not turned off for more than two minutes since kissing Zane fourteen hours ago. He still didn’t know how to accept or believe that Zane really wanted him. But Christ, he’d repeatedly relived the feel of the man’s mouth under his, and the euphoria of sliding his tongue against Zane’s, to the wickedly insane sensation of their chests, stomachs, and cocks rubbing up against one another in a feverish desire to mate since the incident had happened.
Noah’s balls pulled and his dick twitched in his flannel pajama bottoms—his body reminding him once again that it hated Noah’s brain for the decision it had made to put a halt to the natural progression of the make-out session with Zane. With a private little snarl at himself, Noah shuffled to the kitchen, the hardwood floor chilly beneath his bare feet.
Once he flipped on the lights and got the water for his coffee warming, Noah moved to plop down on the couch but bounced back up just as fast as his ass hit the cushion. He’d been sitting and lying in bed for five hours now, and a restlessness shimmering inside him wouldn’t let him stay still.
You probably could have slept for eight hours straight if you’d dragged Zane home and spent the afternoon fucking him.
With a groan, and another swell of need in his shaft, Noah softly cursed himself while tapping his forehead against the wall, frustration filling his entire being. He wanted Zane with a power that defied any fantasy he’d experienced about other men from the time he understood his attraction to the same sex. At the same time, Noah not only knew next to nothing about having sex with another male, he now had to throw in the fact that Zane apparently didn’t have any experience at all, period. Noah didn’t have any idea how to move forward with that information, other than to feel wildly inadequate and intimidated.
Not that it matters, because you’re not going to do anything with him anyway.