“But I’m not. Wait, why the hell am I explaining anything to you?” With his jaw set in a mutinous thrust, Morgan glared at him. “You have no right to barge in here and—”
Leo silenced him with another kiss. He tangled his fingers in Morgan’s hair and settled his lips over Morgan’s. His tongue pushed inside, playful against Morgan’s, and they warred and rubbed and tangled, while his hips rocked a slow, steady rhythm.
“Leo, oh my God.” Morgan hooked his arms around his neck, and Leo skimmed along Morgan’s waist to cup his ass.
“Don’t be with anyone else.”
“I…I’m not. I haven’t been.”
“You can’t. You’re mine.”
“What?” Morgan broke free and retreated to the other end of the living room. “Yours? I’m not a possession. You don’t own me.”
“I know.” He rubbed his face. “I got carried away. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. I-I don’t want you to—”
The front door opened, and Peter already had a smile on his face. “See, babe? I told you it was Leo’s bike. My dude, what’s going on?” Peter slapped him on the back, but Leo barely felt it, his entire being fixated on Morgan. “Here to hang out with Morgan while he’s babysitting?”
He couldn’t answer.
“Thanks so much, Morgan, for helping us out. How much do we owe you?” Marla hung up her purse.
Still on the other side of the room, far away from Leo, Morgan shook his head. “No way. I can’t accept payment.”
“But that’s not fair. At least let us pay for your ride home.”
“He’s coming home with me,” Leo said.
“Says who?” Morgan’s brows drew together, his lips pressed tight.
Enough already. Leo made it across the room in three long strides. He didn’t care how big Peter’s grin was or if Marla was watching, her eyes soft, a hand over her mouth. He framed Morgan’s face between his hands and gazed into his wide, astonished eyes.
“Says me.” He swallowed. “Your boyfriend.”
