“I do.” Darius’s dark eyes glittered with his smile. “Have you ever taken self-defense classes?”
Kit shook his head.
“Then James or I will teach you some moves. Have you ever fired a gun?”
“I don’t want a gun. Maybe a knife?” Moving onto practical suggestions settled Kit’s nerves—almost as much as Darius’s hand still on his shoulder. After the rush of paranoia and adrenaline and anger and guilt, all Kit had left was an emptiness. A need. “You should probably teach me self-defense. Not James. He’ll get distracted.”
Darius’s jaw tensed, but his hand remained gentle on Kit’s shoulder. Then his throat. Blunt fingers traced Kit’s jugular. Everywhere they touched grew hot.
“How do you know I won’t get distracted too?” Darius asked softly.
Kit’s breath hitched. “I don’t know,” he said, entranced by the dark depths in Darius’s eyes. “You look pretty focused to me.”
Darius’s callused palm flattened against Kit’s cheek, and there was a long, blank moment. Everything else fell away. Without fear or secrets, Kit simply existed.
Exhaling raggedly, Darius almost pulled away—but Kit seized his hand to hold him in place. He wasn’t ready to give up this moment.
This close, a faint scar was visible along Darius’s jaw, the slightest indentation in his rich brown skin. Stubble shadowed his cheeks, and the pink of his lips begged for a kiss. The man was made of contradiction—no, not contradiction. Balance. Rugged yet soft. Brutal yet quiet. The disparate pieces of him existed in deadly harmony, and Kit wanted a taste of that stability.
Darius chuckled. “You’re trouble, boy.”
“Is that a bad thing?” Kit asked.
Darius just sighed, leaned in, and kissed him. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Where James’s kisses were thrilling, exhilarating, Darius kissed Kit to satisfaction. Comfort. It was thrilling in a different way, and Kit’s heart sang with a sense of safety. Kit didn’t have to be anything more or less than he was in this moment, as Darius took control.
He held Kit in place and nudged his lips open. The kiss was shallow at first, but all the more intense for the anticipation. His lips tasted just as good as Kit had imagined. Kit would have whimpered if Darius’s tongue didn’t muffle any sound he could make.
Kit’s hands wandered over their own volition, exploring the firm muscles of Darius’s arms and shoulders through his clothes. Draping his arms around Darius’s neck felt right. All tension fled Kit’s body. He kissed back as well as he could, following Darius’s lead.
He wasn’t being unfaithful to James, because this was too different. The same intensity, the same heat, but satisfying a different bone-deep need.
When Darius finally pulled away and pressed their foreheads together, Kit closed his eyes. Breathing heavily, he savored the moment of peace.
“Thank you,” Kit murmured. “I needed that.”
“I know you did.” Darius kissed his forehead and pulled away. The tenderness of his touch lingered even as they separated.
Kit rubbed his head, feeling better now. He could think more clearly at least. Kissing Darius had helped him figure out what he needed to do about James—who was still somewhere else in Darius’s apartment. Alone. Without anyone to help him like Darius had helped stabilize Kit.
“I should talk to James.” Kit chewed his lip. “I know he said he needs space, but I think he’s wrong about that.”
Darius cocked his head. “Maybe you know him better than I do already. Do you want me to go with you?”
Kit took a deep breath and stood up. “Yeah. Please.”
Darius’s bedroom had the same designed but comfortable atmosphere as his living room. It was neater than James’s bedroom. Neater than any bedroom Kit had ever lived in, actually. There was a clothes hamper next to the dresser that, by all appearances, Darius actually used.
A glass-doored balcony took up one of the walls. The door was open, and blackout curtains fluttered in the breeze. Beyond them stood James, his elbows on the railing, his face tipped up to the sky. He’d achieved some level of calm already.
Too bad. Kit intended to shatter that.
Slipping onto the balcony, Kit mirrored James’s position. Elbows on the railing, just a few inches away from each other. The city was busy far below, but the clouds moved slowly above.
“So,” Kit said quietly. “Why were you drinking today?”
Damn it. James had hoped Kit had forgotten he’d been drinking—or that he had believed James’s half-assed excuse. Other flimsy excuses crumbled on his lips, and he swallowed them back down.
