Dark eyes liquid warm, body heat magnified in the small space, he was too tempting for common sense. Nic had counted on a night alone to get his thoughts in order, to decide how best to warn Cam of the new dangers Mel had uncovered, and to practice his apology for running scared, just as Cam had correctly deduced.
But with Cam right here, all Nic wanted to do was sample his beer on Cam’s lips—his favorite taste in the world.
Fuck.
He grabbed Cam’s hand and shoved it under the faucet instead.
“Ouch!” Cam yelped. “That’s fucking hot. And not in the good way!”
Chuckling, Nic adjusted the temperature and carefully brushed out the tiny shards of glass, cleaning the relatively minor cut.
“Way to kill the mood, asshole,” Cam grumbled, then proceeded to kill it further himself. “You didn’t tell me you were coming back.”
Nic dried his palm and dabbed on antiseptic. “I was in trial until yesterday.”
“That why you didn’t call?” Hurt belied Cam’s words, even as he stepped closer.
Nic’s hands shook as he ripped open two Band-Aids and stuck the strips together, big enough to cover the cut on Cam’s palm. “In part.”
“In part?”
Nic pressed the Band-Aids over the cut and smoothed down the sticky ends. He curled his hands around Cam’s, turned it over, and brushed his thumbs over the backs of his knuckles. “I was still trying to figure out how to say I’m sorry for being an ass. For running.”
“So you admit that’s what you were doing?”
Nic lifted his eyes to Cam’s swirling dark ones, equal parts hurt and need with a chaser of indignation. “I said it, didn’t I?”
Taking the last step closer, his front pressed to Nic’s side, Cam curled his other arm behind him, laying a hand on his lower back. “Then that’s all you need to say.” The warmth of his words blotted out the hurt and indignation in his eyes and the warmth of his hand seared through the cotton of Nic’s dress shirt.
Nic fumbled the antiseptic he was trying to put away. Cam grabbed the tube, dropped it in the box, and closed the lid. He moved it off to the side, and Nic let himself be shifted between the faux-marble vanity and Cam’s hard, hot body. Everything he’d missed, everything he didn’t deserve, was pressed up against him, magnifying the torture. Nic’s heart and breath stuttered. “I’m sorry, Boston.”
“Apology accepted,” Cam whispered, then lower, “Now, I just need my dick in you.”
Groaning, Nic angled his face in, lips prickled by the enticing scruff, tongue tasting skin, sweat, and man. “Fuck, I missed you.”
Cam cupped the other side of his face, holding him there, cheek to cheek. “Missed you too, baby.” He lowered the hand on Nic’s back, hauling him off the vanity and grabbing his ass, bringing them dick to dick.
Nic couldn’t have stopped himself from thrusting if his life depended on it.
Same as he couldn’t stop himself from begging. “Boston, please.”
Plea granted, Cam’s mouth came down on his, hard, and Nic claimed the taste he craved, lips devouring and tongue thrusting into the other man’s mouth. He chased after it, again and again, until he was out of breath and had to draw back.
Smiling, Cam nipped along his jaw and trailed kisses down his neck. “I set up the bed.”
Another thrust, chasing that idea as eagerly as he’d chased Cam’s kiss. “Sheets too?”
He felt Cam smirk against the hollow of his throat. “Of course.”
“Awfully confident.”
“Thought you liked that about me?”
“Oh, I do, Boston.” He ran his hands through the dark brown strands of Cam’s hair, tilting his head back and forcing his gaze. “The food?”
“Instant Pot.”
“I don’t own an Instant Pot.”
