Page 95 of Reluctantly You

“Why don’t we spend the rest of today at my place?”

I shift on my feet, my finger curling around his. “What about Little Pants?”

He ponders that for a moment. “Good point. Let’s go to my place and I can pack a bag.”

My eyes narrow. “Pack a bag for what?”

“I’m sleeping over tonight, Mitchell.”

“What if I don’t want you to come over?” I ask, even though my heart is beating frantically at the thought of spending more time with him. Fuck, to be alone together. To explore.

My mind swirls with the possibilities, sapphire and garnet, lust and need.

“You do. You want me more than you can ever admit. You’re peering out of that closet, aren’t you? You like what you see.”

I scoff, but still my words come out assuredly. “Yeah. Fine. Whatever.”

His entire palm engulfs mine at the admission and we walk hand in hand back to his car. I stare at the ground the entire way, worried if I look up, I’ll see someone staring at me. Judging me. A man holding another man’s hand.

An abomination, foul.

Beautiful, true.

By the time I make it into his car, I’m a heaving mess, a cacophony of emotions.

“Was that so bad?” he asks as he turns his car on. “You’re sweating.”

“I don’t like…I just don’t like…PDA.”

“Is that so?” he says and then turns to look at me, his eyes narrowing, his gaze intent. And then his hand wraps around the back of my damp neck and he pulls me forward, the seatbelt digging into my shoulder.

His lips press against mine and his tongue pushes into my mouth, taking, plundering. I lean into it, wanting it more than I will ever admit as a low groan escapes me, my cock lengthening in my shorts.

Fuck. Why is he so addicting? Why do I want this so bad?

You never let yourself admit what you wanted.

You’ve never been honest.

He pulls away slowly, his lips wet from my spit, his pupils blown out.

“Fine, my little horny boy. I’ll kiss you in private then.”

I let out a shaky breath, turning my gaze to the parking lot. No one saw, no one is staring.

No one fucking cares.

What a goddamn relief.

When we make it to his place, I’m feeling surly, anxious, and turned on. It’s a confusing mix of emotions, and I don’t know what to do with them. My heart is frantically pulsing in my chest and I can hear it pounding in my ears.

The things I want.

The things I need.

“Come on,” he says as he starts to walk toward the bedroom.

I stare at him, folding my arms across my chest.

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