Now Carson was really confused. “Aren’t you there?”
“I am. But I’m in my room. Where I intend to stay. All night.”
Carson frowned. He didn’t like the idea of that.
“I need the two of you to get on the same page. I can’t be—no, Iwon’tbe yanked around between the two of you.”
He dropped his head back and closed his eyes. “I’m not sure I can.”
“Trust me when I tell you bein’ with Slade … only him … it’ll change you.”
Carson knew he shouldn’t ask, but he couldn’t help himself. “Did it change you?”
“Yeah.” Atticus sighed. “The same way bein’ with you changed me.”
Warmth pooled in his chest. Carson wasn’t familiar with the feeling. Probably because he knew he could never have anything that would complete him fully, so he’d never given himself a chance to feel anything at all. Atticus had changed that because everything had clicked into place for him that night. Slade might’ve only been part of the fantasy, but it was Atticus’s reaction to Slade that told him there was a chance.
“I’ll talk to you in the morning, Carson.”
“So you want me to come over there while you lock yourself in your room?”
“Yes.”
“And I’m supposed tobe withSlade. While you’re just down the hall.”
Atticus huffed. “Just. Come. Over. Jesus.”
Before Carson could add anything else, Atticus hung up.
He set his phone on his thigh and stared at the front window. Before he could talk himself out of it, he got to his feet and went to look out. Slade’s truck was in his driveway, which meant he hadn’t snuck out while they were on the phone.
Come over here and spend one night with Slade. No one else, Carson. Don’t bring anyone else into it. No fantasies. Just Slade.
Carson didn’t look forward to being put in his place again by Slade, but if it was what was needed for him and Atticus to have a chance…
Atticus’s voice echoed in his head as he opened the door, then closed it behind him. He kept walking. Down the steps, the path to the sidewalk. Across the street. Up Slade’s driveway. He didn’t stop until he was at the front door. He knocked.
Only as he waited did he realize there was a good chance Slade wouldn’t answer.
But then he did, and Carson was at a loss for words.
Slade pushed the screen door open as he said, “I don’t have the energy to—”
He cut Slade off by stepping forward and kissing him. He felt Slade’s surprise, waited for him to push him away. Carson was all for making the first move, but he wasn’t going to force this.
The kiss lingered for a moment, but then Slade was kissing him back, pulling him into the house. Carson took over from there, taking the control he knew Slade was so eager to give him. He wanted this. He wanted him. And by God, he was going to spend the night proving it if it was the last fucking thing he did.
***
The passion in Carson’s kiss blindsided Slade.
He could count on one hand the number of kisses he’d exchanged with Carson in their brief history together. The man preferred to talk during sex, which left little time for him to use his mouth for other things. It was a shame since Carson’s mouth had the ability to make a man’s knees give out.
And when his hands came into play, sliding along Slade’s sides, inching upward, over Slade’s bare skin … it was all he could do to remain upright.
His first instinct was to push him away, but he found himself pulling him closer. Then, he was holding on for dear life, succumbing to the heat that generated between them. The heat that he pretended didn’t exist. But it did. Slade had felt it that morning. When he’d been buried to the hilt inside Atticus, he’d felt Carson’s need. Unlike their previous encounters, Carson had ensured Slade knew it, too. It had been everything he’d ever wanted from Carson. And all it took was Atticus coming into their lives to make it happen.
“Damn, you feel good,” Carson whispered when Slade pulled his mouth free.
