Scott looked both ways along the long length of dark wood, but he was damned if he could work out how the hell anyone was supposed to get from one side of it to the other. Joe offered no help or instruction. He just stood there with his arms folded across his chest. He’d given the order. He obviously expected it to be obeyed. How Scott managed to do that wasn’t Joe’s problem.
Messages fizzed through Scott’s brain. Most of them came straight from his cock. Joe wanted him on the other side of the bar. Before he could think better of it, Scott had his palms pressed against the stained wood. Levering himself up, he clumsily swung his legs over the bar.
Dropping down onto the floor on the other side, Scott managed to steady himself without knocking over anything breakable through sheer luck. His body was still completely over-ruling his brain. His feet took him to stand directly in front of Joe before Scott even had a chance to consider his actions.
Joe didn’t move a muscle. He merely stared down at Scott, somehow managing to seem a damn sight taller than the real difference in their heights implied he should be.
Scott blinked. As some small part of his brain came back on line, heat rushed to his cheeks. Dear God, he’d actually leapt over the bar in his rush to get screwed, hadn’t he?
“I’m—”
Scott hadn’t been sure what he was going to say, and he was never destined to find out what words he might have come up with. His back hit into the edge of the work surface behind the bar. Bottles rattled on the shelf behind him. An empty glass fell over and rolled along the countertop. All the air rushed out of Scott’s lungs. But none of that was important, because Joe’s lips were covering his, and Joe’s hands were on his body.
Joe seemed to have far more hands than any one person should be able to lay claim to. He slid one hand into Scott’s hair and gripped the strands tightly, holding Scott still so he could take complete possession of his mouth. But Joe’s other hand somehow managed to be everywhere at the same time.
Joe slid his hand down Scott’s back and tugged at his T-shirt, pulling the fabric up so he could caress the bare skin beneath. The next moment, Joe was working that same hand down the back of Scott’s jeans, burrowing beneath the denim, obviously determined to see if the dress code had been obeyed.
Scott whimpered into the kiss. His limbs didn’t seem to belong to him. While Joe was capable of doing all sorts of things that made Scott gasp and writhe against him, Scott could only fumble at Joe’s body like a teenager who didn’t even know where the best bits to grope were located.
Scott couldn’t think, he couldn’t breathe, but somehow, in his panic, he scraped up the coordination to push against Joe’s shoulders with both hands.
Joe actually growled at him as he lifted his head and broke the kiss.
Scott stared up at him, wide-eyed in surprise.
“Do you remember what your safe word is?” Joe demanded,
Scott blinked. Moments passed. The world slowed down around them, allowing a few seconds to stretch out until they feltmore like several consecutive life times. Finally, Scott managed to nod.
Joe’s right hand now rested on Scott’s neck, the thumb pressing up against his jaw, keeping his head tilted back. It didn’t shift as Scott moved his head. It pushed unyieldingly against the sensitive skin on his throat.
“Do you want to say it?” Joe asked, his expression more serious than Scott could have ever believed possible.
Scott shook his head.
“Are you sure?”
Scott swallowed several times in quick succession. He nodded. “I’m so s-sorry, I’m j-j-just…”
No talking.Scott’s words faded away to be replaced by mental curses.
“Go on, you’re just…”
Scott glanced up again. Joe’s voice had changed. It was softer now, more intimate. It invited both spoken words and something longer than a one-word answer.
“J-just n-nervous,” Scott whispered. He closed his eyes, sure he sounded like an idiot, especially to someone like Joe—a man who probably did far more daring things several times a day.
Joe slid his hand slowly around Scott’s neck and into the hair at his nape. Suddenly, Joe pulled him forward. Scott found himself pressed against Joe’s body from shoulder to knee.
“There’s no need to be nervous—”
“I k-know, I—”
“Hush.” Joe’s put his other hand on the small of Scott’s back, keeping him where he was.
Speaking after that order had been issued, gentle though it had been, was impossible.
“There’s no need to be nervous,” Joe repeated. “I’ve got everything under control.”
