“Would you like a drink or something?” I asked, my voice low, rougher than I intended. What I really meant was,please come back to my place, let’s not stop here.
Wesley paused, eyes flicking over my face, lips still swollen from kissing. “Yeah,” he said at last, simple and certain. And that one word set my pulse racing all over again.
We walked the short distance to my place, close enough that our shoulders brushed with every step, close enough that I felt his warmth even through layers of winter clothes. My key shook in the lock from nerves more than the cold, and then the door swung open. As soon as it clicked shut behind us, Wes was moving—hopping up onto the counter as if he belonged there, tugging me forward until I was between his spread legs.
I shoved my coat off his shoulders, the fabric sliding to the floor in a heavy heap. My cold as fuck fingers fumbled at the intricate cloverleaf clasp on his cloak, the design more puzzle than fastening, until it finally gave way. The cloak fell open, and he was right there, chest rising and falling quickly, eyes burning. At the same time, he pushed up under my jersey, cold palms splaying across my icy skin, hissing as the touch made me feel as if I were burning from the inside out.
The counter bit into my thighs as I pressed closer, every shift pulling us tighter together. His breath ghosted over my lips before another kiss landed, fierce and desperate. My skin prickled under his touch, each stroke of his hands leaving trails of fire although they were chilled from outside. I gripped his waist, tugging him down, anchoring us. The room smelled of coffee beans and the winter air clinging to our clothes, andevery nerve in me screamed to keep him here, in this moment, forever.
He edged back, and I chased for the kiss, but it was only enough to get me to tug off my layers, and then his, until I got my first real look at Wesley—and fuck, he was so pretty. Smooth pale skin, no hair on his chest, a small scar over his right nipple, and a birthmark just above the left, like some secret design meant for me to find. I bent and kissed both, lingering, and when I closed my mouth around his nipple, he hissed and arched up into me, a startled, needy sound spilling from his throat.
“God, Hunter,” he gasped, hands tangling in my hair.
“Do you like that?” I murmured before sucking harder, dragging my tongue over the hardened peak.
“Yes—don’t stop, please,” he panted, hips jerking. The counter creaked, his legs tightening around me, tugging me closer. I kissed across his chest, tasting salt and skin, then back to his mouth, where he met me hungrily, making soft noises that went straight to my cock.
He writhed and wrapped his legs tighter until instinct had me scooping him off the counter. We half-stumbled, half-clung our way upstairs, turned left at the landing, and fell into my bedroom. I eased him onto the bed, and he scooted up, hands flying to thebuttons of his pants, shoving them down with impatience and whining in frustration when his boots got in the way.
“Help me,” he demanded, breathless, eyes flashing.
I couldn’t have said no. My pulse thundered as I caged him, tugging at the stubborn boots while staring at him sprawled open—hard, flushed, gorgeous, and more than I’d ever dared imagine.
I crawled up over him, mouths colliding again, messy and hot. Our hips ground together, cocks sliding against each other through layers until I shoved my pants lower. I fisted us both in one hand, the slick press of our cocks making us both groan, his back arching, his hand clutching my shoulder.
“Fuck, Hunter,” he breathed, biting my jaw as we rocked into my grip. The friction was brutal and perfect, heat building fast. His voice broke into little sounds—moans, gasps, my name half a whimper—as I stroked us harder.
“Not yet,” I warned him, or warned myself, sliding down his body, kissing across his stomach, my hand still working us both until I let him slip free from my grip. He was flushed, straining, the prettiest thing I’d ever seen. I took him in my mouth, slow at first, savoring the weight of him on my tongue, the salt and heat before hollowing my cheeks and sucking deep.
Wesley cried out, hips jerking, one hand flying to my hair. “God—yes—don’t stop,” he begged, histhighs trembling as I took him further, every sound he made a spark that lit me up from the inside. “Fuck me, I want you to... fuck...” he cursed, voice breaking as he arched. His cock hit the back of my throat, and I gagged, swallowing around him, the taste and the heat overwhelming. Spit slicked my chin, his thighs trembling as he pushed deeper, the hand in my hair tugging desperately. He groaned low and raw, hips jerking as he came, the sound vibrating through me as I swallowed again and again, every noise he made shooting straight to my cock.
I eased him back, and he sprawled boneless on the covers, lips parted, his chest heaving as he reached for me with lazy, trembling hands. I couldn’t look away—his mouth wet and red from our kisses, the dazed expression on his face, the way he was still trying to catch hold of me as his body melted into the sheets. How had I not seen this before? How had I ever told myself I wasn’t sure I liked him that much, when right now he was so fucking perfect it hurt to look at him?
The heat coiled low in me, unbearable, and I fisted myself hard, chasing release with ragged breaths. My gaze never left his face as I spilled over him, painting his skin, my voice breaking on his name as I came apart.
After, the room filled with the sharp tang of sex and the quiet rasp of our breathing. I collapsed besidehim, my arm brushing his, both of us too wrung out to move for a moment. Wesley turned his head, lips quirking in a small, satisfied smile.
“Well,” he murmured, voice rough but threaded with amusement, “that was… better than coffee.”
I barked a laugh, shaky and low, and tugged the blanket up over us both. “Pretty sure coffee’s never made me see stars.”
He snorted, eyes already drifting shut, but his hand found mine beneath the covers and held on. In the hush of my bedroom, with snow drifting outside the window, I realized I didn’t want to imagine tomorrow without this—without him.
Chapter 11
Wesley
I woke with a start,heart thudding, the red glow of the alarm clock reading 3:15. For a few moments, I lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to settle the storm of thoughts crashing in my head. Then I turned onto my side and found Hunter beside me, his breath slow and steady, his frown smoothed in sleep.
A million different feelings tore through me—panic, wonder, longing. What the hell had we done when he was only going to leave? And why, knowing that, did my chest ache with how much I wanted him to stay?
The worry lines that always seemed etched on his forehead were gone, smoothed away by dreams. In the dim light, he looked younger, peaceful, as if all the weight he carried had finally lifted. My throat tightened. He was beautiful likethis, and the idea I might have him this once only to lose him twisted something deep inside me. I was so lost in my head, tracing a path with my finger, but not quite touching, from his shoulder to his hip and back up,
“Wes?” he asked in the dark, and I let out a sound somewhere between a shout of shock and a squeak. We’d been asleep a couple of hours, and he was staring at me with heavy eyes.
“Go back to sleep,” I whispered back.
“Mmm,” was all I got, and then he snaked an arm around me and tugged me toward him, making himself the big spoon. “M’nice,” he added, and then after a few moments, he was back to breathing deeply.
