Page 96 of Something Borrowed

He groans. “No.”

“Yes. We need to wake you up every hour.”

“Oh, joy of joys. Could this holiday get any better?”

“Let me feel your head.”

“I’ve had better offers.”

“Stop being so flippant,” I growl, fending off his hands, which are trying to stop me.

“Now you sound like Bennett.”

“That’s not the nicest thing you’ve ever said.”

I win in the end, and he gives up with a dramatic sigh. I run my fingers through his hair. The waves are soft, his scalp a little damp, and the strands slip through my fingers like honey. Before I know it, I’ve levered over him, straddling him so I can examine him more thoroughly.

“Stan?” he says in a hoarse voice.

“Hush,” I say, feeling the delicate contours of his skull and inhaling the scent of his cologne, which is heady in the warm evening air. He moves into my touch, pushing closer, and I swallow hard. “Raff,” I say softly. “Tell me if it hurts anywhere.”

He huffs and moves away, leaving me suddenly cold in the warm room. “Nowhere you can help with, that’s for sure,” he mutters.

Panic sears me. “What do you mean by that? Where are you hurt?”

“I mean, I’m fine, Stan. Get off me.”

I resist his urging and tighten my thighs around his legs like a monkey sticking to a motorbike. “No. Let me help. I’m not going anywhere until you tell me where it hurts.”

He stops dead. “You really want to know?” he snaps.

I frown in his direction. “Yes.”

“Okay then.”

Strong hands seize my hips, lining me up, and I flail before he settles me back over his lap and his… I groan. His very hard cock. “Oh god,” I whisper.

“Well, you did ask. Now get the fuck off me so I can go calm down.” I swallow hard as the silence grows. “Stan?” His voice is a question as I tighten my grip. “You have to let me go,” he says hoarsely.

“What happens if I can’t?” I whisper.

There’s a moment of startled surprise that seems to last for an eternity, and then he says in a goaded voice, “This.”

Raff

We spent months doing a hell of a lot more than just locking lips, but right now simply kissing him feels dizzyingly right.

His lips are soft and full, and I clutch the back of his neck, keeping him close as if he might run away.

My body is battered and bruised, and I’m going to feel it tomorrow, but all that is lost in the joy of having him in my arms again. I feel like everything’s right again in my world, as if he contains some potent form of magic that allows me to be my trueself. Happiness and arousal are a dizzying mix, making my head spin.

I make a garbled sound of protest as Stan pulls away.

He pats my face. “I’m not going anywhere, Raff.”

His body shifts, his obvious goal my dick straining against my shorts, but I grab his shoulder, staying him. “No, Stan. Let me?—"

“You’ve been hurt. I want to look after you.”

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