I push it off. “Like your lava hands are gonna cool me down.”
Joss arches a brow and his closeness registers. The bare skin of his chest next to mine. The fresh mint of his breath. I don’t know how long he’s been up, but his hair is damp at his temples and there are tiny beads of water on his inky eyelashes.
I lick my lips and I know he sees it because he licks his too.
Jesus.At some point, I need to sit down with my brain and figure this shit out, but I can’t think clearly when all I can smell ishim.
Back up.
I do, and the widened space between us simmers down whatever madness I’m feeling. I move to the bread bin and find the sourdough. “You want some?”
“Of course. You ever seen me turn down food?”
“Never seen anyone offer it. You’re a provider, bro.”
“I try. I’m gonna get my meds. You need yours?”
“Huh?”
“Pills, dude. I’m getting mine. You need the Xanax from the cabinet?”
That gives me pause. I haven’t touched them for a couple weeks. Not because I haven’t needed them, but because I haven’t wanted to deal with the reality that sometimes I have no choice. I’m not ashamed. I just don’t fuckin’ like it.
I put the bread on the cutting board and find a knife. “I’m good, thanks. It’s more of a Christmas and birthday kind of thing.”
“Like blowjobs, eh?”
He’s gone before my dry mouth can formulate an answer. Goddamn him. Both for making my cock misbehave again, and for whatever weird urge I have to correct the record when he comes back and leans on the counter, watching me slice bread.
“It’s more often than that,” I confess.
Joss nods. “Figured it would be. Do they work?”
“They knock me out. Give me a haze so heavy the next day I don’t have the energy to freak out. Does that count?”
“Yup. Circuit breaker. We all need that.”
“Is that what your pills do?”
He shakes his head. “Nah, they help me focus and keep my energy levels stable enough to function. Without them, I’m all over the place. Two speeds: batshit or coma.”
“I had a dog like that once.”
“You’re comparing me to a collie?”
“Labrador, actually. But no. What do I do with this bread?”
“Whatever you want, mate.”
“What doyouwant?” I turn to face him again. Almost regret it because it only takes a glimpse of him to shove my brain back into the vortex of wondering how silky his hair is, and thenwhy on god’s earthI care.
Do you, though? Can’t he just be the prettiest dude you’ve ever met and that’s all it is?
Of course it can. But I’m a details man and cursed with chronic introspection. If Joss is showing me something about myself, I want to know what it is.
“Kai?”
“Yeah?”
