“I don’t want you to be sorry.” Leo turned away.
Charlie caught his face in his heated palm. “Why?”
“Because—” Leo stopped, the words he’d never uttered aloud stuck in his throat. “Because I liked it, all right? I liked you kissing me, because I like what you like . . . I likeyou, and I like boys, but I don’t want to talk about it. I want you to be okay, and I want to sleep, and I can’t—”
Charlie silenced Leo with a kiss that was very different from that first tentative brush of lips in the park. Those kisses had felt like ghosts. A whisper of something neither of them quite understood. And Charlie hadn’t touched him then, hadn’t pulled him close, or grazed his cheek with his electric fingertips.
But he did those things now, and enveloped Leo in a tight embrace, holding him so fiercely that Leo had never felt safer, even before Dennis had drunk the devil into all of them.
For a long, dizzying moment, Leo stood stock-still, frozen in the fire of Charlie’s kiss, then he snapped, broke free, and pushed Charlie onto his bed, kissing him back so hard their teeth clashed.
Charlie grunted and pulled back, though he kept his arms around Leo. “Oops.”
“Yeah.” Leo sucked in a harsh breath.Damn.How had they gone from a tipsy night out at the park, to snogging on Charlie’s bed? Did it even matter? With Charlie wrapped around him, warming him, inside and out, Leo couldn’t find the will to care.
“You’re shivering.” Charlie suddenly scooted back. “Get under the duvet.”
In the blink of a bleary eye, Leo found himself in Charlie’s bed, curled up on his side, his legs tangled with Charlie’s and his head on his chest. He opened his mouth, shut it again, and then yawned so hard his jaw cracked. “I’m so fucking tired.”
“I know, Leo. Go to sleep. I’ll protect you. I promise.”
Charlie woke to a groan that sounded like it came from a dying animal. He blinked and peeled his tongue from the roof of his mouth.Shit, was that me?A glance at Leo sleeping beside him confirmed that it must have—
Whoa.
He looked down again and registered the warmth of Leo’s body seeping into his own.
What the fuck?
The events of the night before slammed into his brain—the kiss, the pills, neon lights, and more kissing—
Oh my God.
Charlie flushed. He’d kissed Leo. He’d taken drugs—dirty bloody street drugs. And he’dkissed Leo. Multiple times, at intervals he couldn’t quite remember.
Oh. My. God.
Charlie licked his lips. They were cracked and sore, like he’d chewed on them all night, and mortification washed over him. How trashed must he have been for Leo to get into bed with him? His brain was scrambled and out of order—sketchy memories fused with recollections that couldn’t be real—but he remembered Leo’s gaze following his every move, staring at him like he was a ticking bomb. Remembered Leo’s guiding hands, warm on his back, his arm, his wrists.
And Charlie remembered the heat in Leo’s eyes when he’d admitted that he liked kissing Charlie.
Footsteps on the stairs startled Charlie out of his hazy reverie. The light tread sounded like Kate.
Shit.
Charlie scrambled out of bed and darted across the landing. He dove under Leo’s duvet just as Kate reached the doorway.
Kate blinked and glanced out into the hallway, clearly checking Charlie’s room. “What are you doing in here?”
“We swapped for a joke.”
“What joke?”
“Um . . .”
“Never mind.” Kate looked over her shoulder again. “What time did you go to sleep? Lila wants to say good-bye before we go to Aunt Sal’s, but I don’t want to wake Leo if you had a late night.”
“It wasn’t too late. Half ten, maybe?” Charlie said, though in truth he had no idea what time he’d gone to sleep. In fact, he couldn’t remember sleeping at all. Only lying in bed with Leo, holding him close, and wishing he could chase the darkness from his eyes.
