Page 86 of I Think They Love You

Denz grips the counter’s edge. “Y-yes.”

The pressure is feather-light, then gone.

“And here?” Braylon’s mouth rests against Denz’s Adam’s apple. Denz barely responds before lips open around the cartilage. The kiss comes with a hint of teeth.

At the base of his throat. “Here?”

“Sure.” Denz clenches all his muscles as Braylon lingers, his tongue tracing. Fingers dance along Denz’s hips but never stay for long. Just enough to create a ripple of goose bumps across Denz’s skin.

“What if I kiss you—” Braylon’s head dips. “—here?” He tugs at Denz’s sweater, exposing his collarbone.

“I, uh.” Denz gasps. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“Are you sure?” Braylon skims his mouth along the bone’s shape. “Because I can—”

“Please.”

Braylon complies enthusiastically. His tongue glides across the surface. Numbness tingles into Denz’s fingertips. He’s gripping the counter too hard. His thighs tremble as Braylon presses into him to taste more skin.

Each kiss comes with an arch of Denz’s spine. Everyyesormorethat crawls up his throat, he swallows back.

Braylon grabs his hips. Yanks him forward. He positions Denz close enough to nip at the tendons along his neck, returning to places he’s already been, renewing the tender soreness under Denz’s skin.

“What about h—”

“God, yes. Just do it.”

Denz hates Braylon’s laugh against his damp throat. He wants more teeth, less talking.

Braylon tugs his sweater up. “What if I kissed you here?”

“Hnngh”is all Denz can reply with when Braylon tongues one of his nipples. It’d be embarrassing if he wasn’t so impressed with his ability to form any noise as Braylon delicately kisses the other side of his chest. He’s aware of the thumbs slipping into the waist of his jeans.

The fingers playing with the button.

“Denz,” Braylon breathes against his sternum. “I have another question.”

A hand strokes the line of Denz’s cock behind the denim.

He practically yelps. “Shit,what?”

“Can I kiss you,” Braylon pauses, looking up through his eyelashes, “down here?”

Either the thunder’s returned or Denz’s heart’s about to combust. He bites his lip hard, unsure how to answer. Their arrangement has rules.

Something-something about sex, right?

“What about the no-sex rule?” he manages, thighs spreading.

“This isn’t sex.”

Denz laughs, head tipped back. “It’s literally calledoral sex.”

“I call it a blow job.”

“Same difference.”

“Technically, not.” Braylon exhales contently when it’s Denz who undoes the button, yanks at the zipper. Together, they work his jeans and boxers to his ankles. Braylon crouches, tongue sliding over the unshaven hair under Denz’s navel. “Sometimes I call it head.”

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