Page 45 of Twice Shy

Joel set his hand on Ollie’s shoulder, pulse racing at the feel of muscle and sinew. “It’s okay.”

“It’s just really hard sometimes.”

“I know. Parentingishard. But you’re doing a great job.”

A shake of his head. “You know that’s not true.”

“The hell I do.” Ollie glanced up at his vehemence and Joel saw a glint of moisture on his cheeks, in the shimmer of his eyes. “Those boys are happy, Ollie. Who cares about details like…like spare clothes and perfectly balanced meals? Or losing your temper once in a while. You love them and they know it. You’re a great dad.”

Ollie sucked in a sharp breath and pressed his hand over his mouth. Joel felt the jolt of emotion run through his fingers, up his arm. “Sorry,” Ollie said again, the word muffled by his hand. “Nobody’s ever said that…”

And Joel couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t keep from sliding his arm around Ollie’s shoulders and pulling him into a rough hug. If a guy had ever needed a hug, it was Ollie Snow in that moment. “Of course you’re a great dad. You’re fantastic.”

Ollie held still, arms at his side, but Joel felt him shiver and after a moment his forehead dropped to rest on Joel’s shoulder. They were almost the same height, and when Joel wrapped his other arm around Ollie’s stiff body it landed just above the small of his back. His hair smelled like smoke with an undercurrent of fruity shampoo, his skin of nothing but himself.

And now it was Joel who was shivering. It started out low, a subtle tremor inside his bones. His breath quivered, catching in his throat, and when Ollie’s arms moved, his hands coming to rest on Joel’s hips, Joel stopped breathing entirely. But he let his hand move, a slow stroke up Ollie’s back. He could feel his spine through his coat, the blades of his shoulders. Angular and masculine, nothing like Helen’s generous curves. His heart lurched, a flash of banked desire breaking free and scorching across his skin.

Neither of them did anything but stand there together in the deepening dark.

Then Ollie swallowed loudly and pulled back, not letting go of Joel’s hips but moving far enough away that Joel could see his face. Wide eyes watched him, lips a little parted as if on the cusp of a question. But Joel knew he wouldn’t speak, he wouldn’t do anything. He was waiting for Joel to decide.

Blood rushed in his ears, deafening. This was what he’d spent four years avoiding. It would turn him upside down, it risked everything he’d rebuilt. But those were distant concerns, drowned out by his clamorous need to connect—physically and emotionally. He longed for it, was thirsting for human contact. How had he not known he was parched until this moment?

Ollie swayed toward him and Joel closed his eyes, letting their noses bump, gently brushing together. And at last, the air catching and holding in Joel’s lungs, their lips touched in tentative welcome, shared breath, shared uncertainty. Ollie lifted a hand to the back of Joel’s neck, light and undemanding, and Joel did the same, sagging in relief when his fingers tangled in Ollie’s hair, their heads tilting and bodies pressing closer as the kiss deepened, accelerated.

And ignited like a rocket.

Ollie came alive in his arms, kissing him with hungry enthusiasm, all ragged breaths and eager roaming hands. Staggering under the sudden onslaught of push and pull, Joel stumbled back into the stacked tables and set them rocking as he dragged his lips over Ollie’s lightly stubbled jaw, tasting his skin, hands exploring the hard lines of his body.

God, he remembered this—the powerful eroticism of touching another man. Someone was setting off fireworks inside his head. Setting him ablaze. Christ, how had he forgotten how intensely a man could fire him up? He felt crazed. One hand clenched in Ollie’s hair, the other clutching at the lapel of his coat, belt buckles clunking in the silence of the shed as they rocked together.

He wanted this. He wanted more than this. He wantedeverything.

With a low growl Ollie snaked a hand under the Joel’s sweater, the electric thrill of his hot fingers scorching up Joel’s bare back driving him crazy. He gasped and—

“Yoo-hoo! Mr. Morgan? Are you in there?”

They sprung apart, staring at each other across the width of the shed as the bright beam of a flashlight cut through the dark between them.

“Ah, there you— Is everything alright in here?”

“Uh, yes.” Joel shielded his eyes from the light and Jackie lowered it. What the hell must he look like? He could only imagine. “We were just, um—”

“Having trouble with the tables.” Ollie sounded breathless and husky. “It’s quite cluttered—”

“Well, yes. I’m aware. Of course, nobody ever wants to help me clear it out.” A dramatic sigh and an awkward beat followed. “Is there room for the grill?” Jackie went on eventually. “My other half is wheeling it over. We wondered where you’d gone.”

“There should be room,” Joel said, grateful to turn away from Jackie’s interrogation and examine the space left in the shed. He ran a hand through his mussed-up hair, tried to straighten his sweater.

“I’ll go help Bill,” Ollie said, slipping past Joel and disappearing outside.

Joel’s pulse didn’t slow, and he stared blankly at the dark outlines of the tables. What had he done? More importantly, what the hell was he going to do next?

∞∞∞

Ollie stared at himself in the mirror over the sink in the staff bathroom. His cheeks were a little flushed, his hair its usual tangled chaos. He didn’t think he looked like a guy who’d just ravaged a teacher in the PTA shed.

Or a guy who’d been ravaged by a teacher in the PTA shed.

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