Page 25 of Finding Michael

Tristan turned with Michael in his arms and leaned against the counter. He tucked his hands beneath the waistband of Michael’s jeans to cup Michael’s ass.

Michael groaned. He liked take-charge men. When Tristan cupped the back of Michael’s neck with his free hand, Michael didn’t fight the delicious feeling. He kissed Tristan and savored his tanginess.

Tristan pushed the kiss. He turned the connection feral in an instant. He consumed Michael with the heat of the kiss. Michael couldn’t drag air into his lungs fast enough, but he didn’t mind. He liked the way Tristan held him.

Michael straddled Tristan’s thigh and rode his leg. He groaned. Tristan tasted good—sinful. Michael smoothed his palms over Tristan’s chest. Christ, the man was all hard muscle and strength. He wanted to unwrap him and learn every inch of Tristan.

“Yeah, babe.” Tristan ground against Michael, then sucked on his tongue.

Michael broke away and panted. Desire flowed through him. He could’ve sworn the temperature rose a few hundred degrees.

Tristan licked along Michael’s throat and his teeth scraped Michael’s skin. Another groan ripped from Michael.

“You’re a talker. I like it,” Tristan said. The scruff on his cheeks abraded Michael’s. He tugged Michael’s shirt from his pants, then slid his hands over Michael’s belly. “I want to strip you down,” Tristan said between nips. “Want to explore you.”

Fuck…he’d just been thinking that about Tristan. He gritted his teeth. “Yeah.” He wanted to get the hell out of the kitchen in favor of somewhere softer and horizontal—like the bed.

Tristan stopped kissing him, then rested his forehead on Michael’s. “I need you.”

“You do.” It wasn’t a question. He wanted Tristan, too.

“Crave you.” Tristan dropped to his knees and opened Michael’s pants. When he glanced up at Michael, he grinned. “Need you.” He rubbed his face against the crotch of Michael’s jeans and marked himself.

Michael threaded his fingers into Tristan’s hair. Being this bold was out of his comfort zone, but it felt right because he was with Tristan. He rocked against him and closed his eyes. Heat centered in his dick and he moaned. “Yes.”

“Oh, wow. I didn’t think I’d see this.”

Michael froze. He knew that voice. Jamie. He should’ve known the lawyer would be involved somehow. He opened his eyes and focused on Tristan.

Tristan sat back on his heels. “Oh, hi.”

Jamie strode up to Tristan. “I didn’t think you two were a twosome. Guess you are.” He turned on his heel and walked out of the room.

“So?” Tristan scrambled to his feet. “Jamie. Fuck.” He splayed his hand on Michael’s chest. “Sorry. I’ll be right back.” He chased Jamie.

Michael buttoned his jeans, then righted his shirt. He had no claim to Tristan. He couldn’t blame Tristan for wanting to sample the goods of Sullavan. But Tristan trying others on for size didn’t mean Michael had to stick around to watch. He finished his glass of soda, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His body still hummed from Tristan’s touch. It wasn’t fair. He hadn’t been this affected by anyone…ever. Tristan seemed to be different.

Michael squared his shoulders. He didn’t know what was going on, but he wanted to get out of there. He made his way through the living room to the front porch. Tristan and Jamie stood just outside the door.

“You don’t understand,” Tristan said.

“Right. Just stop.” Jamie glared at him. “I thought… I don’t know what I thought.”

Michael rattled the door to let them know he was on his way out. He stopped for a moment. “I’m heading out. I have to work in the morning.” He hurried down the steps and around the flower beds to his car. He shouldn’t have been retreating, but he couldn’t compete with Jamie. Christ. Jamie was everything he wasn’t—rich, handsome and sophisticated. He wasn’t damaged goods, either.

“Michael.” Tristan caught up with him beside his car. “Don’t go.”

“You’ve got company. I’ll go.” Michael fiddled with his keys. “It’s cool.”

“Jamie isn’tcompany.” Tristan scrubbed both hands over his face. “He is, but it’s complicated.”

“I understand. He’s your lawyer and you’ve got papers or whatnot to discuss.” He had to sound as level as possible. Tristan deserved someone with a calm demeanor, not angst and too much emotion.

“No.” He touched Michael’s arm. “Wait. When does the library open on Saturday?”

Michael frowned. “Ten. Why?”

“Come over tomorrow night. Please?”

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