The air cooled over his eyes, but it did nothing for the heat coursing through him.
“Your eyes are cloudy. More white-gray now instead of blue,” Scar murmured against his lips. “Like smoke trapped behind ice.”
Gage gasped. He knew the chemical treatments had changed his eye coloring—the same as it’d done Scar’s hair—but no one had described them like that.
Scar kissed his closed lids gently before he lowered down on top of him, covering him from head to toe, their bodies molding together, lining up their cocks as if they were meant to.
A jolt shot to his core, his dick throbbing in response to the friction, sending sparks of forbidden pleasure racing up his spine.
Scar licked his way back to his mouth. “I want your hands everywhere on me.”
Gladly.
Though he saw now by touch and sounds, he still remembered what Scar looked like before his sight was taken.
Broad shoulders that filled doorways, scarred hands used to break and bend men to his will, a body and posture that moved with street-bred confidence.
But nothing compared to that hard, intimidating scowl that used to make the entire block go quiet.
Gage had been drawn to it with private fascination.
Now, sight was memory and touch was his sight.
He slid his hands upward, not rushing, as he saw the shape of Scar’s throat in a new way, through the shallow rise and fall of his breath, the subtle tension held in his jaw even when he wasn’t snarling.
He pushed his cheek into Scar’s, letting his skin do the feeling there before he pressed along the side of Scar’s face, stroking the hard angles, the stubble biting lightly into his flesh as he inhaled the last remnants of cologne under his sweat.
He wove his hands into Scar’s hair, and several things shocked him.
It wasn’t the fact that he had so much, it was the feel of it. Softer than it had any right to be, a luxuriousness people spent thousands on in a salon.
Some strands were damp at the nape of his neck and near his temple, while the rest was thick and plush, the kind of beauty he wanted to keep touching.
“I was told it’s white now…like snow,” he whispered.
“Who told you about my hair?”
It took a minute for him to answer, as his mind fought through the arousal to formulate words.
“Elias,” he finally answered. “He said you don’t like it.”
“You been talking about me?”
Gage hummed as he continued combing his fingers through Scar’s hair, learning the pattern of it, loving the way it yielded.
Feels so good.
He lifted his hips, an unintentional movement that surprised him and caused heat to bloom over his throat.
“Don’t be embarrassed. Though you do look so sexy when you blush.” Scar buried his nose in his throat.
Gage responded by opening his legs and letting Scar settle deeper between them, closer…and more aligned.
Scar began to grind against him in a slow rhythm, as if he didn’t want to rush this, trying to make the moment last all night.
His mind reeled at being cherished instead of ravaged.
Scar’s body was vibrating, and he could sense how hard he was struggling to stay in control, the force that sat behind that gentleness like a loaded chamber.
