Page 76 of Employing Patience

Joey, being the little shit that he is, ignores my invitation and takes a seat in my lap. Again.

“Comfortable there, are you?”

“Best seat in the house.”

I smile and reach up to tuck his hair behind his ear. My fingers linger there, eyes taking in that breathtaking face, before I lean in and kiss him. Just a skim of lips. A distraction. Something to take his mind off what’s coming.

“You look breathtaking there, by the way.”

“So you agree that we should do this more often?”

I groan. “You don’t let up, do you?”

“Well, I have a fuckiversary rating to work toward. It’s really unfair of you not to let me study.”

It is. It’s so, so unfair and cruel of me. I shouldn’t let Joey suffer like this. I should be a good, kind mentor of gay sex and sleep with him at every opportunity. Bill Gates was dedicated to his craft; why shouldn’t I be?

But like every other time I’ve thought of going after Joey again, that warning simmering in my blood tells me not to. Promises that giving in will wreck me.

“This isn’t a conversation I can have when I’m horny. One brain cell, remember?”

“Fine.” Joey cups my face and kisses me this time. It’s harder than mine was, lingers, once, twice, three times. Like he’s testing the kiss and whether to go deeper. I’m dying for him to. Wanting nothing more than to dive in with no regrets. Get in, get off, get out. It’s how I’ve always run my life. But I also want him to get comfortable, so that means no rushing. We have the whole night. Because there’s something about night that makes it feel like this isn’t happening.

That it exists separate from real life.

“I almost forgot,” he whispers before ducking down and sinking his teeth into my shoulder.

Yesss. The mark he left was almost gone, and it thrills me more than it should at the thought of having it back again. Another whole week with Joey carved into my skin. The bite turns from a dull burn to a sharp sting before he pulls away.

My chuckle surrounds us. “You good now?”

“Every time I see you, all I’ll be able to picture is that under your shirts.”

“Good.”

I flip us so quickly Joey doesn’t see it coming. Then I lay his naked form along my couch before climbing over the top of him. My fingers skim his nipple before running down his side. “Why am I so attracted to you?”

He laughs. “Now, that’s what a man wants to hear when he’s about to be fucked.”

The response frustrates me, but I don’t know how to tell him that’s not what I mean. Joey’s hot. Conventionally attractive. Being attracted to him is a no-brainer, but this attracted? This burning need to have him. To make him feel good. To make him want me and no one else. I’ve never felt possessive over anyone, but when I look at him, it’s there. Just simmering beneath the surface, the need to reach out, take hold, and never release him again.

I shut that shit down faster than final call.

“Do you want me to tell you how sexy you are?” I tease.

“Wouldn’t hurt.”

“That I love your pretty little nipples.”

“They appreciate it.”

“That your cock makes my mouth water.”

“It is tasty.”

“That the way your hair never stays in its band drives me out of my mind.”

His gaze sharpens. “Noted.”

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