“Then what’s stopping you?” I press. It’s taken five years for us to get to this point. I’m not letting him leave until I get some goddamn answers.
“There’s only one guy I want to date.”
Before I can fully process what he’s telling me, his hand is on my chest, fisting the soft cotton of my shirt, pulling me in. Someone—I think it’s me—lets out a softoofas our bodies and mouths meet.
It’s the polar opposite of the last—and only—time we kissed, when I took the lead. This time Chris is in control. He tastes like bourbon and bitters and citrus as he brushes his mouth over mine, slipping his tongue inside when my lips part to suck in a ragged breath.
I mimic his move, bunching his shirt in my fingers as the kiss goes on and on. His lips are firm. Greedy. Hypnotic. The longer the kiss goes, the deeper it gets. Our tongues join in on the action, then our hands, exploring, then our bodies, rocking against each other.
“Fuck.” He moans into my mouth and rolls his hips, letting me feel every inch of his stiffening cock, as rock-hard as my own. “I knew it would be as good the second time.”
His words plant a seed of self-doubt that takes root and spreads like wildfire. Is he really here because he wants me? Or am I just a safe choice for his first gay sexual experience?
I wrench my lips from his and shove at his chest. But that buff ballet body I suspected was lurking under his tailored shirt and tight jeans is immovable, and now I’m stuck with my palms pressed against a set of pecs that would rival Captain America’s.
He drops his forehead to mine and lets out a long, low sigh that washes over me, ruffling my hair, teasing my earlobe, weakening my fragile defenses. “Shit. I’m sorry. I’m moving too fast. I know. But I want this so fucking bad.”
“Want what?” I muster the nerve to ask, tipping my head back so I can look him in the eye when he answers. “Me, or—?”
I can’t bring myself to finish the question, but he knows where I’m going, and from the scowl that darkens his handsome face, he’s not too happy about it. “You think I’m here for a quick, easy lay? If that were all I wanted, I could have gotten it back in San Francisco. I didn’t have to travel across the damn country.”
He makes a good point, but I’m still not convinced. Years of second-guessing my impulsive decision to kiss my best friend have taken a toll on my self-confidence where Chris is concerned, and I tell him as much. “I’m just having a hard time believing that, after years of no contact, you suddenly discovered you couldn’t live without me.”
He lets his hands fall to his sides and steps back, giving me the space I need to sort out the jumble of emotions tossing and turning inside me.
“Look, I get why you don’t trust me. If I was in your position, I wouldn’t trust me, either. All I’m asking is that you give me a chance to be brave. Like you.” He takes another step back and jams his hands in his pockets. “Meet me tomorrow night. Lincoln Center. I’ve got tickets toGiselle. The show starts at 8:00. I’ll be waiting by the fountain.”
Without another word, he turns on his heel and takes off down the alleyway, leaving me hard, horny, and totally off-balance.
