“When I was young, I wanted to travel and see the world,” he says. “But in all the places I’ve been, there’s never been a place I feel more connected to, more at home than this cabin.”
I step in front of him, and our slight height difference makes him have to look up.
“Why did you bring me here, Fletcher?”
My eyes skate over his perfect skin, short beard, and impossibly clear eyes.
“I think you know, Harry.”
I let out an irritated growl.
“Why the nicknames?” I ask.
He places his hands on the lapels of my jacket, gripping tight and pulling me closer until our noses are all but touching.
“Because when I call you by anything but your name, you come alive. Your eyes light up with this fire, this anger, frustration. It’s the only time I get to see the real you, Harrison.”
His words should hurt. So why don’t they? Why do I get a tingle up my spine with the knowledge that Fletcher wants toseeme? That nothing else will do?
Anyone else would apologize in case they hurt my feelings, but not Fletcher. He’s waiting for me to take his words in. He doesn’t believe he should apologize because he’s speaking from the heart.
“And what do you see when you see me, Fletcher?” My voice is raspy, needy, and full of vulnerability. There’s no coming back from this.
“I see someone who’s surrounded themselves with so many protective layers that they’re afraid of what might happen when they take them off. I see someone so fiercely protective of everyone else that they forget their own needs are legitimate.”
“Needs, huh?” I bump his nose with mine, holding him against me so he can feel exactly what I need right now.
“Yes.” He all but gasps as I take his mouth in a long, languid kiss, exploring, tasting, and memorizing every inch of Fletcher’s mouth.
I growl when Fletcher reaches behind me to untuck my shirt. I thread my fingers through his hair and feel the elastic band snap. His hair falls in waves, soft and silky around my fingers.
“You have something against my hair ties?” he chuckles, continuing to kiss my jaw.
“Yes, as a matter of fact. They’re very inconvenient.”
“You know what else is inconvenient?” he asks.
“Let me guess…people who stop in the middle of doorways? People not using proper grammar in text messages?”
He laughs. “Yes…but not that.”
“When you wash your face and water trickles down to your elbows?” I continue, “Having to scroll past someone’s life story before you get to the ingredients in an online recipe?”
“Nope.”
“Dropping your front door keys just when you’re carrying a hundred bags or really need to pee?”
Fletcher is now howling, and I rack my brain, trying to come up with funnier stuff to keep him laughing.
“No, you fucker. What’s inconvenient is that you made a promise earlier,” he says, trying to catch his breath.
“I don’t remember doing that,” I tease.
Fletcher runs his hands down to my ass, giving it a squeeze, and moves slowly to the front, where my rock-hard dick is trying to escape the confines of my clothing.
“You said we have some unfinished business, and I don’t know about you, but if I have to yet again take care ofmyunfinished business by myself, I won’t be happy.”
I hiss when he grips my erection, my eyes closing as I hold my breath to stop myself from coming in my pants.
