Page 135 of Psychopath

“A French guy, huh? Was he handsome?”

“Yeah, he was, but I wasn’t interested. I was…waiting to see if someone would choose me.”

“Ah.” Zane stroked his chin. His eyes had their dangerous glint, and his smile was smug again. “It looks as if that someone has chosen you. Question is, do you choose him back?”

Instead of answering, Quinn took his mug in both hands and took a sip.

“Let’s see how this camping trip goes first,” he said finally.

Zane laughed. “It’s a date.”

Quinn nodded, then frowned. “How did you know I lived here?”

“Water Hollow?”

“This cottage…this street.”

“Ah,” Zane said, lifting an eyebrow. “It was the position of the sun, paired with the tan on the right side of your face—”

“Zane…” Quinn mumbled.

Zane laughed. “I knocked on doors asking until someone pointed me in the right direction, and here I am,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t sound very interesting and mysterious.”

“I think I’m done with you being mysterious,” Quinn said. “I’d like to know the real you. The real Zane Black.”

24

Epilogue

It wasn’t perfect overnight.

Quinn let Zane lie low at his place, but in the spare bedroom. Zane respected the boundaries, and although he flirted and flashed Quinn his smug smile, he didn’t try to take their relationship any further. Quinn thought it would be weird, having Zane living with him, but it wasn’t. They watched TV together, ate together, cooked, and cleaned, played chess and Scrabble, read books at the same time with a lamp glowing in the corner, and although lust bubbled away, Quinn held back and enjoyed this time with Zane outside of sexual intimacy.

No one thought to look for Zane Black in Water Hollow. He could walk through the village unchallenged and had visited the allotment to see what Quinn was growing.

Quinn made the first move, two weeks after Zane had been released. He’d cooked Zane dinner with ingredients from the allotment. Zane moaned throughout and complimented Quinn’s culinary skill. Quinn would’ve been flattered, but Zane had been living off prison meals for the last few years, and anything would’ve tasted better.

Quinn finally settled down to watch the finale of Shops and Cops, ready for the next series to begin. He sat beside Zane, their shoulders pressing together. The third book of The Oslo Chronicles was on the coffee table with a bookmark poking out roughly halfway through.

Zane had devoured the second book and promised to take Quinn to see the movie of the first book at the cinema as soon as it was released.

The ending credits ran up the screen. Zane exhaled, about to say something, but Quinn leaned in and pressed his lips to Zane’s mouth.

Zane groaned, parting his lips, encouraging more, and Quinn ran out of reasons to resist.

The kiss was hot and hard, and Quinn ran his fingers into Zane’s hair and pulled the strands. Zane moaned around Quinn’s tongue and shifted on the sofa, turning his body so they could be chest to chest.

He broke the kiss. “You sure?”

Quinn nodded feverishly.

Zane pushed Quinn’s chest, guiding him down to the sofa. Quinn pulled his legs up as he lay down and opened them for Zane to stretch out on top of him.

Their cocks brushed, but there were too many layers between them and it only added frustration to their frantic kissing. Zane pulled away, getting to his feet. He removed his trousers while Quinn hurried to get his own down his legs. When he reached for his boxers, Zane stopped him.

“I want to,” Zane panted, groping Quinn through the thin fabric.

Quinn’s eyes rolled back, and he dropped his arms by his sides and let Zane touch him. He felt Zane’s nails slightly catch his skin as he grabbed the waistband and eased them down.

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