“What I mean is… Can I be straight with you?”
“A straight Daniel Cross isn’t something I’d—”
“Shut up, Hutton.”
I grinned, nevertheless surprised at our ability to joke around at a time like this. But black humor had eased many a difficult situation. It was a minor release in anticipation of a greater one.
“I’m only human, and my self-control won’t last forever. It’ll only hold for as long as I believe I’m not torturing myself for nothing.”
He’s asking for hope. He’s asking if…
Oh God, Daniel, if only you knew I have even less self-control than you do.
I could have sworn his lower lip wavered. “So…I can call a cab, or…when we get indoors, we hang our coats up and grab a beer.” He took a deep breath.
He’s asking me to choose for him.
I rolled my shoulder muscles, attempting to work out the kinks of tension. And the tension was only there because I was nervous, ever nervous, of saying it out loud.
So I didn’t.
I simply reached for my zip and undid my jacket.
Chapter Ten
Staring up at the ceiling, I saw nothing in the inky blackness and Daniel in my mind’s eye. According to my mobile phone, it was after one in the morning, and though I was tired—emotionally exhausted, in fact—sleep refused to come.
Though the duvet cover and pillowcases smelled of washing powder, the bed felt like
Daniel
. This was his. He slept here. He fucked here.
I groaned out loud, rubbing my eyes with the heels of my hands. Why I had to think of
that
, I didn’t know. Each thought about Daniel pushed the possibility of sleep further away until it was no more than a barely perceptible dot on the horizon.
He, conspicuous by his absence, was all around me.
After he’d shown me to my quarters, I’d taken in the fact that the wardrobe and chest of drawers matched. Coordinated. He slept in a sleigh bed. “
Made of genuine leather too; not cheap
,” he’d boasted before adding with a playful wink, “
And with what goes on in the bedroom, it’s best to make it comfortable, don’t you think
?” His eyebrows had lifted as he exited, looking over his shoulder and adding, “‘
Flights of angels sing thee to thy rest
.’”
“
Fallen ones
?” I’d shot back, closing the door on his fading laughter.
Rest? Some hope
. Kicking the duvet off me, I bared my torso to the air, resting one hand on my chest, the other cradling the back of my head, a buffer to stop my thoughts from corrupting Daniel’s pillow.
This is fucking torture.
If he felt half as bad as I did, he wouldn’t be sleeping either. Then again, he was a lot more confident about his sexuality than I, so maybe that demeanor he’d long since mastered of
yeah, I’m bi; what the fuck of it
? made for a softer pillow than my guilt trip over Georgia and the fact that it wasn’t her making my cock hard.
God, I want him to touch me so badly.
If I was at home right now, I could be jacking off and taking care of this monumental fucking hard-on instead of lying here wishing it was Daniel—oh God…
I imagined it was his hand slipping past the waistband of my shorts, his hand gripping my cock as it slid to the base, loosening ever so slightly on the upstroke.
Fucking hell, Hutton. Stop it.
Ceasing all movement but not letting go, again I stared blindly at the ceiling. The damage was done. Coming here tonight had
bad idea
written all over it.
I wanted to come.
Needed
to come. But lying in someone else’s bed, especially his…it wouldn’t be a good idea.
Running my thumb absentmindedly around the tip of my cock, I gasped. Told myself to stop.
I swung my legs out from under the covers, and as soon as my feet hit the floor, I breathed a sigh of relief. Half out of bed, I could convince myself—or try to—that I had half won the victory over the images painting themselves on the insides of my eyelids.
Images involving Daniel touching me, breathing into me, whispering in my ear that he had to see the look on my face when I—
Burying my head in my hands, I smothered a groan, summoned as many thoughts as were possible to evict desire for Daniel from my head. The prime minister covered in blackberry jam. My geography teacher from high school, Mrs. Bennett. Fish guts.
None of it worked.
I got up, paused with my hand on the door handle. Unless I mastered the art of levitation, there was a chance my footsteps would alert Daniel if he was awake. A creaking door hinge, a running tap.
And I wondered if that was what I wanted.
Groping my way down the hall, past the living room door, I held my breath, keeping my ears tuned to any signs of a floorboard creaking in the living room, someone’s weight shifting on the settee.
Please be awake, Daniel.
No. Sleep.
Logic told me to go back to bed, but the devil on my shoulder—and the wings on Daniel’s back—persuaded me to stay up a while longer, justifying this after-dark mischief by reasoning I’d never sleep anyway. Daniel’s bed was too big without him in it.
I kept the light off in the kitchen. The darkness made me feel less guilty. Moonlight and weak streetlights, diluted by distance, pricked my conscience.
I wondered if the householder would forgive me if I raided his alcohol stash. It would be difficult to explain.
I’m only stealing your whiskey ‘cause I need to drink to forget how much I want you.
The after-midnight mist eddying round the streets outside hypnotized me, looked almost Gothic, blurring the glow of streetlights and watering down the moon’s usual brightness.
When it came to Georgia, the only right thing to do was man up and call her soon about picking up her stuff. The ungentlemanly part of me wanted to ask—beg—her to come back. To share and be shared. I wanted her in my bed. I wanted Daniel there too. I didn’t want to choose. Selfish little me didn’t want to.
Whether it was the ghostly atmosphere outside or the chill one in my personal life that most troubled me, I didn’t know, but the cause of and solution to many of my problems slept mere feet away.
Slept, or ignored the visitor creeping round his house.
* * *
I didn’t know how long I’d been standing at the kitchen sink before the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
A creaking floorboard and a door opening elsewhere in the flat. Daniel was awake, and my body tuned in to that fact before my mind acknowledged it. I knew before I knew.
Gripping the edge of the sink, I refused to turn to the door when it opened.
“Ah. I thought you’d be in here.”
“Couldn’t sleep. Considered raiding your alcohol stash, but figured you wouldn’t be too pleased.”
“Help yourself. There’s beer in the fridge if you want one.”
“No.” I laughed and shook my head. The door clicked shut behind me—us—again, and Daniel crossed the room, stood at my shoulder. “Hope I didn’t wake you.”
“Nah, I just couldn’t drop off for some reason.” He rested a cool hand on the small of my back, and I flinched. “Don’t worry about it.” He inched closer, close enough to touch
more
if one of us cared to cross that remaining breath between us. The hand on my back slid to my hip; the other mirrored it. His fingers tightened on my hips, and for the briefest of milliseconds, his hard cock pressed against me, still enough to make me dizzy even through the fabric of his shorts and mine.
I gasped, but by the time I exhaled my surprise, he’d broken contact.
“Reece?”
I still gripped the edges of the sink, shoulders hunched and my head hanging like a guilty person scrutinized.
Which was exactly what I was.
“Is something wrong? Stupid question. Forget I asked. Reece, Reece, Reece,” he singsonged under his breath.
I gulped and turned my head away as if not looking at him would quiet the thudding in my chest. He was in the same room, and that was enough. “Daniel?”
“Don’t.” Then his hand was on my back again, and he dropped a light kiss on my shoulder. “Don’t try to convince yourself this is wrong.”
The gentlest flicker of his tongue on my skin made my spine ripple.
“But—”
“I know,” he whispered, and as he spoke, he let his stubble brush against my skin, not rough at all. Just a reminder of who this was. “But I want you. You
know
I want you. You don’t have to justify why you’re here, but…” He dropped another kiss on my shoulder and his thumb circled gently in the hollow at the small of my back and
Jesus
, I’d never known what a turn-on that could be. “Well. That’s just it.”
I looked at him, and he lifted his head. The fact he looked straight at me made up for the fact that his lips were no longer on my skin. Barely. And I waited for him to explain.
“You’re
here
.”
Some of the tension left my body. Only some. But enough for my shoulders to drop, and when they did, Daniel slid his hand round to my abs, not pulling me back but stepping closer himself.
“You could be anywhere else tonight, but you came back here.” His breath warmed the skin just behind my ear, and when he kissed me there, I shuddered. “Hmm. You like that?” His hand slid lower, resting just above my waistband, and I gripped the countertop, gaining no purchase. “Reece. I know this is difficult for you, but you have to understand, it’s just as difficult for me to see you in my home and not touch you.”
It’s just as difficult for me not to be touched.
“I just feel that…” I cleared my throat and turned, intending to state my case firmly, but any chance of remaining assertive disappeared when my cock brushed against his.
“What?” His hands resting on my hips, he held me steady, and somehow, with him in front of me and the kitchen counter behind, I managed to stay upright. “What do you feel?”
“That I should be a bit more… I mean, this seems like it’s happening all too soon.”
“Is it?” Daniel dipped his head, either to force me to look at him or to nudge me with his jaw as he kissed me. “You’re a free agent now.”
“I know, but it’s…” My chest heaved with repressed emotion and unsaid words. “Like I’m jumping into something else before my relationship with her is even cold.”
“Reece.” He smoothed back my hair with one hand, the other remaining at my waist. “Maybe it was already cold, and that’s why you jumped.”
“No, it…”
Too much protesting, Hutton
. There was always a chance he was right. There had to be a reason I was here with him now, even if I didn’t want to admit it to myself or articulate it. It was easier just to give in. I was in Daniel’s house, and his hands were on me.
He must have felt the fight go out of me, the denial. Because when he kissed my neck, it was the confident, self-assured kiss of a man who knew I’d not bother to say no again. Neither of us would believe I meant it.
Daniel nudged me a little, trailed kisses down to my shoulder, but I edged away, and he broke off. I’d wanted to see his face, as well as I could in this half-light.
I lifted my hands to his neck, held him still, running my thumbs over his jaw, asking myself if I truly wanted this, and when he wet his lips with the tip of his tongue, I knew
yes
. I pulled him in and for the first time kissed
him
.
I
was the aggressor now.
He flinched but stayed with me. His lips parted first, and I kissed him more deeply; it wasn’t as if we hadn’t done this before, but I’d never been so forceful, as if I dared myself onward. I felt guilty about being here, but I
was
and there was little point regretting it now.
And the way Daniel kissed, he could make me forget everything I’d ever regretted in my life.
“Jesus.” He broke the kiss, panted against my neck, resting his forehead against my shoulder for just a second, and that second was long enough for me to feel how cold his hair was, misted with perspiration.
I bit my lip, wondering how far Daniel would want to take it. He didn’t seem the type to try to persuade me into something with which I was uncomfortable.
He
was too comfortable in his own skin to do anything other than let what happened, happen. Whatever he did was to be enjoyed. By both parties. Sometimes all three.
There were so many reasons I shouldn’t have been here, and all of them sounded like
Georgia
, but the way his hair felt under my fingers, the way his mouth tasted, the way his hard cock pressed against my thigh all whispered
Daniel.
I pulled him closer, thought holding on to him would steady me.
“I thought about this all evening,” he murmured. “It was a fucking nightmare in that cinema.” He licked his lips before trailing kisses along my jaw, down the side of my neck. “Honestly, Reece, I go to the cinema on my own a lot. Sometimes with other people. But I have
never
had as hard a time concentrating as when you were so close to me and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.”
I bit my lip, wanted to say
something
, but knew whatever I
did
say would come out wrong or not be as articulate as I wanted. Daniel was the writer. We both worked with words, but I organized other people’s stories; he created his own. He had the air of someone comfortable with his own sexuality, at home in his own skin, and able to express himself in ways to which I could only aspire.
“And I kept thinking about touching you. I thought about the way you’d sound when you came.”
Skin moved over skin and sensory overload made me screw my eyes shut, but doing so had the opposite effect to what I’d expected. Not being able to see the way his shoulder moved as he stroked made my cock even
more
sensitive to his touch. When he leaned in to whisper something in my ear, I caught the smell of his…soap? Cologne? Whatever it was, it was unmistakably
him.
“I thought about how hard you’d get if I touched you
here
.” His voice sounded feral. Somewhere between a growl and a moan. Not like a wounded animal, but something hungry.
“God. I…” My voice moved, in two words, from monosyllabic to staccato to breathless.