Page 100 of Flare

He deflated and eventually nodded. “Yeah, I guess. I’m hoping this new counsellor works out and that he starts to talk. Fuck knows he needs to. But Jack being Jack, he didn’t give much up about his first session. I don’t think he quite trusts that I’m sticking around. He’s had fuck-all stability in his life with Serena.”

“Hey.” I stroked his cheek. “You’re doing a great job. You need to lighten up on yourself.”

He snorted. “Yeah, right. Pot, meet kettle.”

It wasn’t like I could argue. “How is work?”

“I’ve got another meeting next week about reducing my hours, so I should know more then.”

“You gonna write that thriller you were telling me about?”

He chuckled. “Maybe, but I still need a job.”

“Mmm.” I leaned back and ran my fingers through the cascade of dark waves falling over his face. “I quite fancy the idea of fucking an author.” I claimed a deeper kiss, the taste of him singing in my mouth like I hadn’t just had my fill of him already—kind and sweet and way too much like a promise.

We lazily made out like we had all the time in the world as thunder rattled the windows and lightning flashed fire in those hazel eyes. And when we ran out of steam, I sighed happily and dropped my head back to his shoulder, my hand still clutching his against my chest like he might vanish if I let go. He pretended not to notice and pressed soft kisses to my head while murmuring silly, sweet, boyfriendy type things that made my heart smile.

My breath came and went from my chest, slow and full and calm, and I tried to remember the last time I’d felt so peaceful with another man at my side and came up empty.

Could I really have this?

“You okay?” He nudged when I’d been quiet for a while.

“Perfect.” I lifted my face and covered his mouth with mine once again, my hand releasing his, brushing over the drying spill in his treasure trail to cradle his soft cock.

And when we couldn’t stand the sticky mess on our bodies any longer, we shared Beck’s massive shower and settled into his bed, my big spoon to his little, his arm lightly draped over top of mine that wrapped around his chest, my heart full and ripe with words I wasn’t sure I could hold back much longer.

CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE

Rhys

I wokeafter a surprisingly solid sleep to find my face cooked medium rare against Beck’s scorching back—the man’s big body radiated heat like Chernobyl. Weak morning light swam across the bed through the open curtain, the silence at the window a promise of better weather after a stormy night, the only sound in the room the gentle snoring of the man lying beside me.

I slid my hand under the covers and over the pillow Beck insisted on jamming between our legs to remind him not to crowd me. His morning wood twitched hot and hard and ready to go.

Fucking perfect.

He wriggled and murmured contented little kitten purrs as I began stroking and his cock swelled in my fist. A tie landed on my face.

“Fuck whatever orifice you want. I’m easy.”

I stilled. Now, there was a thought.

He continued to face away but I knew he was waiting, leaving it to me. And the more I rolled the idea around in my brain, the more I liked it.

“Don’t fucking move.” I took the tie and quickly kissed his shoulder. But as I rolled away to grab the lube and condom from my side of the bed, the duvet fell away and I froze at the sight of my dick hanging soft and uninterested against my thigh.

Shit, shit, shit.

Not now. Jesus, not now.

I was done with this.

Done.

I was better now.

I yanked the duvet back up to my waist, my heart hammering in my throat. Beck still had his back to me, so I fisted my cock and attempted to rally the lifeless fucker. Nothing.

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