Page 54 of Twice Shy

As usual, Joel woke with the dawn.

Not as usual, he woke with Ollie Snow asleep in his bed.

Joel kept the slats of his blinds angled so that the morning sun flooded into the bedroom, acting as a natural alarm clock. But this morning, he didn’t head out for his usual run. Instead, he lay there, caught somewhere between wonder and alarm, and watched the steady rise and fall of Ollie’s shoulders. He lay half on his stomach, only one closed eye visible where his face smooshed into the pillow—one of Joel’s pillows—curls tumbling over his forehead and the soft white pillowcase.

Even now, hours later, Joel still felt the thrum of last night’s pleasure. Perhaps his long abstinence explained it, but the electric thrill he’d felt when Ollie touched him, at the mere sight of Ollie’s beautiful body—beautiful male body, beautiful aroused male body—had been nothing he’d felt in years. Or ever.

Had he ever felt so sexually alive as he had last night? If so, he couldn’t remember when. And that made him wonder, because he didn’t think he’d forget last night for as long as he lived. Christ, but he’d felt crazed with desire, as if every nerve had been firing—the feel of Ollie’s hands, his hard, taut body. His mouth. And the sight of him, looking up from beneath those absurdly lovely lashes, lips stretched around Joel’s cock, curly hair spilling into his eyes…

He’d never seen anything so arousing. Never felt so aroused.

What did it mean, that he’d felt like that? Did it mean anything at all? Maybe he was over thinking? Maybe he was—

“Morning.”

Ollie’s one eye had opened, half a smile emerging from the pillow. His voice was deep and scratchy, matching the dark stubble on his jaw. Joel’s insides gave a peculiar leap. “Morning,” he said. “How’d you sleep?”

“Like a log.”

Joel smiled. “Yeah, me too.”

“Gotta love those sweet, sweet endorphins.”

Maybe that was it: maybe chemistry explained last night’s sexual high. And the distinctly gooey sensation in his heart this morning. Endorphins.

Ollie rolled onto his back, blinking up at the sun-striped ceiling. “This is a luxury,” he said, smiling. “Luis is always up before six.”

“You want to sleep more?”

“No.” He turned his head, invitation in his eyes. “Doesn’t mean I want to get up, though…”

And, boom, there went the hormones again. They reached for each other, all sleepy warmth and tender touches as they kissed and rocked together in a breathless race to another bone-tingling finish, Joel coming with his face tucked into Ollie’s shoulder and the sound of Ollie’s gasping release loud in his ear. Afterward, they lingered a little longer, until Joel’s stomach growled, and Ollie giggled, tickling Joel’s belly and teasing until they were both breathless with laughter.

Then they showered together, kissing languidly beneath the water—and, God, Ollie was beautiful in the morning light, wet hair pushed back from his face, dark lashes clumped together and brown eyes twinkling.

Joel left him to dress and headed downstairs to make breakfast, emotions skipping along that line between excitement and anxiety. Wonderful, it was all wonderful. And could end at any moment. He needed to remember that, to hold back those parts of himself so eager to rush forward.

Don’t fall, he warned himself.Don’t let yourself fall.

Ollie didn’t make it easy, not when he padded into the kitchen barefoot in his dark jeans and soft green sweater, damp hair curling around his ears. “Your house is beautiful,” he said, accepting the mug of coffee Joel handed him. “Can you see the ocean from upstairs?”

“Just about. You can certainly hear it.” He nodded through the picture window to the neglected yard. “Next summer, I’m planning to sort that out. I’ve been focusing on the house so far, but I think it’s time I tackled the yard.”

Ollie perched on one of the stools at the breakfast bar. “Did you do all the work yourself?”

“Yeah.” He pulled out a saucepan, feeling self-conscious as he said, “Therapy, I guess. When— After Helen left, everything kinda fell apart. Putting this place back together has been quite the project, but it’s helped me put myself back together too.”

“Nice metaphor.”

Joel smiled. “Teacher.”

“I’d have enjoyed school a whole lot better if I’d had teachers like you,” Ollie said, grinning over his mug. And for a moment they just smiled at each other and Joel felt something straining in his chest, a green shoot yearning toward the sun. He wondered if Ollie felt it too; the softness in his eyes gave him hope. Dangerous, terrifying hope.

He looked away, clearing his throat. “Uh, I usually have oatmeal for breakfast. But I’ve got eggs and toast if you—”

“Whatever you’re having.”

“I’m probably having oatmeal.” He always had oatmeal, part of his routine.

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