“Of course,” Tom accepted readily, and Bryce shot him a sideways smile, full of warmth.
They lapsed into silence again, and while it remained companionable, it felt closer, somehow.
Bryce shifted beside him, his arm brushing close. Not touching, but near enough that Tom could feel the warmth of him, the magnetism tugging between their bodies like the crackle of the air before a storm.
“Tomorrow,” Bryce said softly, gaze still on the horizon. “Everything changes.”
Tom’s throat felt too tight. “Yeah.”
The kitchen light threw soft gold across the porch boards, shadows stretching long before them. Tom could smell him—hay and sun and something uniquely Bryce—and the air between them felt heavy with want.
And then Bryce turned his head, just slightly. Just enough.
Thatlook.The focused, unguarded hunger it contained. Like Bryce had been trying not to stare all night, and had finally given up.
Tom set his beer down on the railing with a quiet thunk. “You keep looking at me like that,” he said, voice low, “we’re going to have a problem.”
Bryce smiled, slow and wicked. “I was hoping we might.”
Tom didn’t know who moved first. Maybe they just closed the space together, like gravity had stopped waiting for permission.
Their arms brushed. Skin met skin.
AndChrist. It ripped through him like fire. A flashpoint. An electric shock of heat that slammed through his chest and settled low in his gut, blooming everywhere at once.
Bryce stiffened too, just for a second. Like the same jolt had hit him.
But neither of them pulled back.
Tom’s breath came fast. He didn’tthink—he didn’t need to. He just turned, reached, caught the back of Bryce’s neck and kissed him. Bryce kissed him back as if he’d been waiting for this for years.
The kiss was messy. Too much, too fast, all heat and friction and breath. Their mouths slid together like they were starving. Tom sure as hell was, for the taste of Bryce, the feel of his warmth plastered against Tom, hands on his hips, dragging him ever closer. God, why had he waited so long to have this? Everywhere they touched, that same heat flickered and surged.
Bryce’s tongue slid into his mouth—slick, demanding, filthy—and Tom moaned, helpless against the bolt of heat that shot straight to his cock. He chased it, pushed deeper, needing more—needing Bryce to shove him down and take him apart until he couldn’t think straight.
He licked into Bryce’s mouth, tasting heat and want and something wild. Bryce groaned, low and wrecked, like just kissing Tom might undo him—and God, that sound was going to live in Tom’s head forever.
Bryce broke the kiss eventually. “Inside?” he asked, voice rough.
Tom nodded, his own breath catching. “Yeah.”
Bryce’s fingers caught his hand, the touch still crackling with that jolt of something sharp and hot under the skin, and he tugged him toward the door.
They moved fast, urgency humming between them as Bryce drew Tom down the hallway. The door to Bryce’s roomshut with a click behind them, and they were on each other again.
Bryce pushed him back against the door, kissing him deeper now, with slow precision that made Tom shudder. Bryce’s tongue explored Tom’s mouth, taking his time like he already knew Tom would let him.
And God, he would. He’d let Bryce do anything.
Bryce’s teeth dragged over Tom’s lower lip and bit down, just a fraction too rough—just right. Tom gasped as fire licked down his spine and straight to his cock. He was aching with it, pulse thudding in his throat. Fuck. No one had ever done that to him before, and now he wanted Bryce to do it again. Harder.
When he did, Tom’s knees almost buckled and he whimpered.
Bryce made a low, hungry sound, before breaking the kiss just long enough to get them moving. He walked Tom backward in slow, steady steps, kissing him between each one, until they reached the edge of the bed.
His hands were suddenly everywhere—gripping, tugging, pushing up fabric like he needed to get closer, skin to skin. Tom’s shirt hit the floor, then Bryce’s, and the sound of their breathing and the rustle of clothes was loud in the quiet room.
Bryce’s body was lean and strong and impossibly beautiful. Tom ran a hand down his chest, over warm skin and wiry hair, before splaying his fingers over Bryce’s stomach, feeling him twitch under the touch. He smelled like sun-warmed wood and hard work, and Tom breathed it in like it was oxygen.
