“I’m glad you chose you,” Finn whispered.
Maurice looked at him then—really looked—and something in his expression softened. “Took me a long time to figure out what I wanted after that. I spent years keeping things casual because it felt safer. No expectations. No disappointments.”
Finn’s hand slid up to Maurice’s biceps, thumb tracing the warm skin where his sleeve had ridden up. “What changed?”
Maurice’s voice dropped. “I got tired of waking up next to people who didn’t know a damn thing about me.” He shifted closer, their thighs fully touching now. “And then today happened.”
Finn’s pulse jumped. “Today?”
“You,” Maurice said.
Finn leaned in before he could overthink it. Maurice met him halfway.
The kiss was soft at first—warm, slow, like Maurice was letting Finn set the pace. Finn slid a hand up the side of Maurice’s neck, fingers stroking the short hair there. Maurice’s hand found Finn’s waist, thumb pressing gently through the fabric of his shirt.
When they pulled apart, Finn’s forehead rested against Maurice’s.
“I’m glad you left with me,” Maurice murmured.
Finn smiled, breath warm against Maurice’s lips. “Me too.”
Maurice kissed him again—deeper this time, but still careful, still tender—like he was learning Finn one touch at a time.
Chapter Eleven
Maurice
Maurice hadn’t meant tosound jealous. He really hadn’t. But the words slipped out anyway. “You went to the Meet-a-Daddy Party. Does that mean you’re looking for a Daddy/boy relationship?”
He tried to keep his tone casual, as if he were just making conversation. Inside, though, he was bracing himself. Finn was young, bright-eyed, and curious—exactly the kind of man whoshould explore before settling on anyone. Especially someone like Maurice, who’d already lived a whole life full of mistakes and false starts.
“I’m looking,” Finn said. “I’ve had one before.”
Maurice hadn’t expected that piece of personal information. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“He was an older man from Denmark, I’d tried to get him used to living in America. He was in control of everything, and he gave me rules and spanked me if I didn’t follow them.”
Maurice smiled before he could stop himself. The image of Finn draped over his lap flashed through his mind—too vivid, too easy. God, he liked this boy. Liked him more than he should after knowing him for barely a day. But that was exactly why he needed to slow down. Finn deserved the entire week and the full Pride Train experience. Not just him.
“Do you mind sharing what happened?” Maurice played with Finn’s hair.
“He returned to Denmark. I failed at my job and as his boy, I guess.”
Maurice shook his head. “I doubt that. Not everyone feels comfortable in a foreign country, and I’m sure you were doing your best.”
“I was, or so I thought.”
Maurice heard the line, “I was, or so I thought,” and something in Finn’s voice snagged his attention. The words were flat, almost practiced, but the end of the sentence dipped like he was trying not to let it crack.
Finn didn’t look at him when he added, “My parents told me not to take it personally. He was just homesick.” Instead, he focused on the floor, thumb worrying the edge of his sleeve as if he needed something to do with his hands. A tiny, nervous habit Maurice hadn’t seen from him before.
Finn delivered it all as if it were ancient history, but the way he kept blinking too fast, the way his shoulders curled in just a little as if bracing for someone to argue with him which told a different story. Maurice wanted to smooth away his hurt with his hands. Dangerous idea.
“I live in Virginia,” Maurice said, trying to shift the mood.
“I know that.”
“Let’s talk about geography for a bit.” He needed something neutral, something that would ease Finn. “Would you ever move from Boston?” Maurice asked.
