“I don't—” The denial stuck in my throat. Wouldn't come out because it was a lie and we both knew it.
“Yes, you do.” Troy's hand came up. Pressed flat against my chest, right over my pounding heart. “Your heart is hammering. You can barely look at me. And right now, you're trying so hard not to grab me that your hands are shaking.”
He was right. My hands were curled into fists at my sides, shaking with the effort of not reaching for him, not pulling him closer, not giving in to what I'd been fighting for weeks.
“This can't happen,” I said. Voice barely there. “You know this can't happen.”
“Why not?” His hand slid higher. Fingers brushing the side of my neck, sending electricity through my nervous system. “Because of what other people would think? Because it's taboo? Because you're afraid of what it means?”
“Because I raised you.” The words came out desperate. “Because I was supposed to protect you. Not—not this.”
“You are protecting me.” Troy's voice softened slightly. “You've been protecting me my whole fucking life. Even when I hated you for it. Even when I pushed you away. You stayed.” His thumb brushed along my jawline and I stopped breathing. “But this? This isn't about protecting me. This is about you being too scared to admit what you want.”
“Troy, please?—”
“Tell me you don't want me.” His eyes locked on mine. “Look me in the eye and tell me you don't think about touching me. About kissing me. About what it would feel like to give in to whatever the fuck has been building between us since I came home.”
I opened my mouth. The denial right there on my tongue. Ready to push him away. To do the right thing. To be the man I was supposed to be.
But the lie wouldn't come.
Because he was right. About all of it. I did want him. Had wanted him since he'd walked back into my life looking dangerous and broken and so fucking beautiful it hurt to look at him. I'd been fighting it for weeks. Burying it under guilt and duty and every reason this was wrong.
But standing here with him this close, with his hand on my skin and his eyes seeing straight through every defense I had, I couldn't lie anymore.
“This is wrong,” I said finally. Voice wrecked. “Everything about this is wrong.”
“I know.” Troy's other hand came up. Framed my face with both hands now, his touch gentle despite everything. “I don't care.”
“You should care. We both should.”
“Maybe.” His thumb traced across my lower lip and my breath caught. “But I'm done pretending I don't want you. Done pretending I haven't been thinking about this since I got back. Done lying to myself about what this is.” His eyes were dark and hungry. “So tell me to stop, Declan. Tell me you don't want this and I'll walk away. But if you can't say it, if you can't look me in the eye and deny what's between us, then stop fighting it.”
My hands came up without permission. Grabbed his hips. Pulled him closer until our bodies were flush, until I could feel every inch of him against me.
“Fuck,” I breathed. “Fuck, Troy, this is?—”
“I know.” His forehead pressed against mine. “I know it's fucked up. I know it's wrong. But I don't care anymore. I'm done caring.”
Then Troy closed the distance.
The world stopped.
His mouth was hot and desperate against mine. Tasting like blood and grief and want we'd both been burying. His hands shook where they held my face. His breath came in broken gasps between kisses.
I kissed him back like I'd been holding the answer in my body for weeks and finally had permission to speak it.
This was wrong. Every part of this was wrong. He was my stepson. The boy I'd raised. The man I was supposed to protect, not want.
But I'd been lying to myself for so long that the truth felt like relief.
I wanted him. Had wanted him for longer than I could admit. Not as the boy he'd been. As the man he'd become. Dangerous and broken and beautiful in ways that made my chest ache.
Troy broke the kiss. Pulled back just enough to look at me. His eyes were dark and desperate and searching for permission.
“Tell me to stop,” he said. Voice wrecked. “Tell me this is fucked up and we can't do this and I'll walk away.”
I pulled him back in by the back of the neck and kissed him like I was apologizing for every time I'd stopped myself from doing it before.
