He was quiet for a moment, his fingers tracing absent patterns on my arm. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“How do you feel about this? About us going from best friends to… this?” He gestured at the bed, at us tangled together under the sheets. “It’s a big shift.”
I thought about it. “Honestly?” I turned to face him. “It feels like the most natural thing in the world. Like we were always heading here, and I just didn’t know it yet.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
His hand moved lower, resting on my hip, and I felt the heat of it through the thin fabric of my sleep pants. His proximity, his touch, everything about this moment got me hard and throbbing for him.
“Your foot. We don’t have to—” I started.
“I’m fine. But you should probably take it slow. This is your first time with a man.” He pulled back enough to look at me, his dark eyes serious. “You should probably get used to it before we go any further.”
I wanted to argue. I wanted everything. All of it. But he was probably right that I needed to process what we were doing.
“Take your time,” he said. “Get to know yourself. Explore what it’s like to be with a guy.”
Relief and affection flickered through me.
We settled back into kissing, touching, learning each other through hands and mouths and the slide of skin against skin. I explored the terrain of his chest, his shoulders, the muscles of his back. Found the places that made him gasp and moan and pull me closer.
He did the same for me, his hands mapping my body with thoughtful attention, learning what I liked, what made me react.
His hand slid lower, over my hip, close to my erection. My dick ached to be touched, but I caught his wrist. “Not yet,” I murmured. “Just—this is good. This is enough for tonight.”
He withdrew his hand and kissed me. “No problem. Take your time. We’ll ease into it and do this right.” He settled me against him, my head on his chest, his arms around me. “This is good. Being here with you. That’s enough.”
I pressed a kiss to his chest, right over his heart. “Yeah. It is.”
We lay there in the quiet darkness, our breathing gradually slowing, the urgency fading into something softer. His hand traced lazy patterns on my back. My fingers drew circles on his chest, and his heartbeat with a steady thump beneath my ear.
“Thank you,” I said eventually.
“For what?”
“For being patient. For not pushing. For being you.”
“I should be thanking you.” His voice was warm with affection. “You have no idea what this means to me. Having this. Having you.”
I tilted my head up to kiss him, slow and sweet. “I think I have some idea.”
We settled back down, woven together, the lamp still casting soft light across the room. I should get up and turn it off. Should adjust the covers properly. Should do a dozen small things.
But I didn’t want to move and lose this closeness, this warmth, this perfect contentment.
“Étienne?” Marco’s voice was sleepy.
“Yeah?”
“I’m really glad you’re here.”
“Me too.” I tightened my arms around him. “Nowhere else I’d rather be.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
