Page 26 of Melting the Ice

Or maybe it would go back to the way it was, just two guys who’d had a few drinks who were wondering.

But then it occurred to Dean that Brody was being honest. Not only that, but he was laying his insecurities and worries and thoughts bare. While Dean was still trying to figure out whathiswere.

Wes would tell him that if someone opened up to him, it was only the right thing to do to reciprocate. To at least make an effort.

“No,” Dean said and reached out, tugging Brody back down to the couch. He went easily, and Dean knew he should let go, but he didn’t.

He told himself it was so Brody wouldn’t try to escape again, but the deeper truth was that he liked touching him.

“No, you haven’t?” Brody didn’t frown. But his expression went blank.

“No, we’re not forgetting it,” Dean clarified. Then paused. Tried not to stutter. “As for your question, uh, no, well, um, maybe.”

He’d never been good with words, but plain and fucking simple, he’d never been worse than he was right now. Tongue-tied and mind racing with a hundred things he could say, but nothing seemed to come out.

“So you haven’t. With a guy,” Brody said. His gaze had taken on a speculative tint.

Dean shook his head. That much he could do.

“Me either,” Brody said.

He had a feeling what Brody was going to say, and before he could, he managed to get out, “But we could always try it.”

“Now?” Brody looked shocked, and Dean had a sudden, terribly heart-stopping worry that maybe hehadn’tbeen about to suggest that.

“Uh, yeah. I mean, if you don’t want to, with uh . . .me. . .nevermind. I shouldn’t have—”

Brody raised a hand to his face and touched him, five fingertips pressing into his cheek, and Dean stopped in his tracks, words scrambling in his mind then disappearing entirely. “Stop me, if you don’t want me to,” he said seriously, and like hell Dean was going to.

He was curious.

And something more, too.

Brody leaned in a fraction and then another fraction, like the closer he got, the more he expected every moment that Deanwasgoing to stop him.

But Dean didn’t, and finally their mouths met.

It was a brief, quick kiss. One brush of their mouths together and then Brody was pulling back. Of course, that didn’t matter, because the single touch had been enough to yank Dean’s eyes wide open.

Not only had henothated it, he’d liked it. Even the bristle of Brody’s scruff against his own hadn’t turned him off. His hands itched, because he wanted to reach out and touch. Wanted to tug Brody right back.

Brody’s eyes fluttered open, and it was clear he hadn’t hated it either.

But had helikedit?

It suddenly occurred to Dean, a horrible, swooping feeling in the base of his stomach, that maybe his lack of experience was a turn-off. Maybe he wasn’t a very good kisser. It wasn’t like he’d done it that many times. Or cared that much when hewasdoing it.

But he gave a shit now.

If that was theonlychance he was gonna get, it should have been a good one, he should’ve—

All his uncooperative thoughts screeched to a halt when Brody murmured, “What did you think?”

“What didyouthink?”Don’t say I’m a bad kisser, that you didn’t mind that I was a guy, but that I sucked, that I could’ve done better.Icando better, I promise.

“I . . .I think I liked it,” Brody said softly.

“Me too.” Dean could hear the gravel in his voice. He hoped Brody wouldn’t hear the desperation—and he hoped he would, too.

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