James’s face caught fire. He knew right then and there that he’d have to tell Cassian the rest, no matter how embarrassed he was. Dammit, how did Cassian manage to do this to him?
Bracing himself for further humiliation, James said, “There’s only one who... takes him.”
“Takes him?” Cassian asked, crooking an eyebrow once again.
“Sexually.”
Cassian’s eyes bulged. “Dear Lord.”
“Sorry,” James said through a cringe.
“I thought this was a love story,” Cassian said with a half-laugh and a shake of his head.
James chuckled a little, too. “It is!”
“Does the manwantto be... taken?” Cassian asked.
“Yes? I mean, not... exactly. Yes and no.” James released his pen and covered his face with his hands. “Oh, hell, it seems horrible when I say it out loud.”
Cassian laughed some more. “Oh, come on, James, everyone has fantasies.”
“Not ones like mine.”
James’s embarrassing confession hung between them for several seconds.
“I-it’s not as though I’d like that sort of thing in real life,” James stammered. “I mean, maybe... f-for pretend.”
Cassian cleared his throat, prompting James to stop rambling.
“I can see myself... enjoying a story like this one,” he said.
It sent James’s heart aflutter. Warmth settled in his chest. And... elsewhere.
Oh, God, to think ofCassiantaking himlike that...
“Really?” James asked through a whisper, peeking out from behind his hands.
Once again, Cassian merely nodded, only now, there wasn’t even a hint of nervousness or heartache in the man’s eyes. All there seemed to be waswant.
Slowly, James removed his hands from his face, his whole entire body, every muscle, every fiber, now vibrating from a flood of nervousness and shame and elation and an intense, pulsating, incredible yearning to make his immoral, wicked fantasies come to fruition.
James’s pen rolled off of his notebook onto the floorboards.
“Sorry,” James spluttered.
At the same time, both men leaned forward to reach for it.
And then, their fingers touched.
Chapter Thirteen
Cassian
When Cassian’s and James’s fingers brushed, a bolt of electrical current shot up Cassian’s arm, and his breath caught. For a fleeting moment, he was too stunned to even move. Finally, though, when James began to retract his hand, Cassian came to his senses and caught it, the instinctual need he felt for continued contact overcoming every rational thought. Cassian’s head was swimming as he helped curl James’s fingers around the pen with his own. And then, in this intensely awkward manner, they picked up the pen together. Every second of contact had Cassian’s heart thrumming while his mind reeled from a realization that he couldn’t yet consciously admit.
After James placed his pen back atop his notebook, Cassian realized that he had a choice to make. Aware of the imminent and ever-looming peril that existed merely because of who they were, Cassian uncurled his fingers, but then, rather than pull back entirely, he left his hand there on the page overlaying James’s barely legible scribbles, the edge of his pinky finger resting against James’s thumb.
One long second passed, and then James moved his thumb ever so slightly, caressing Cassian’s finger. Cassian’s stomach swoopedas ripples of fondness and care washed over him, and he found himself practically overwhelmed by the moment’s unparalleled beauty.
