Page 68 of Touch In Excess

“But your parents won’t,” Skye said.

“It’s complicated.”

Skye let out a tiny sigh, then cupped Rami’s chin and pulled him in for a kiss. “I get it. One of my friends has parents a lot like yours. Immigrants, worried about losing their children to…” Skye paused and frowned like he was searching for a word. “What was it called in ancient history? Hellenization?”

Rami blinked, then burst into laughter, grasping for Skye’s hands so he could tug him into another kiss. “How do you know about that?”

Skye grinned and shrugged. “I noticed the books you like to read, so I’ve been doing a little study myself. That way, I’ll know what you’re talking about when we’re in bed after…everything.”

Rami’s whole body felt like it was suddenly too big for his skin. Like he was going to burst with joy and the disbelief that this was real. That this man could exist and not be lying to him. It took him a moment to remember Skye hadn’t come alone, and they weren’t supposed to see each other until after the auction.

Skye would be bidding at his own house since he had a late team meeting, and they weren’t going to do anything intimate until the next night when Rami did his possibly final live. He wasn’t sure about that either, and he wanted to be somewhere quiet and safe so he could talk through it.

“Hey,” Skye said softly, “really, are you okay? You seem unsettled.”

“I am. But we can’t talk about it here,” Rami told him. “Maybe later?”

Skye nodded. “I was going to see you in the morning, but why don’t I drive over after it’s done.”

Rami felt a punch of relief that was almost physical. “Yes. Please.”

Skye tugged him in for a kiss. “I should let you get back to your brother, and I have to get back to my coffee date.”

Rami stiffened. Had he been wrong about the guy? Was he not a Sin? “You…is he…a client?”

Skye snorted. “No, sweetheart. That’s King—Hen’s boyfriend. He’s one of my best friends. We call these our coffee dates. We drink too much caffeine and talk shit about our coworkers.”

Rami bowed his head. “Sorry.”

Skye lifted his chin, gaze on Rami’s lips. “Again.”

“Sorry. I don’t mean to be insecure.”

Skye knocked their foreheads together, then between them signed so only they could see, ‘Never forget I’m yours.’

Those were the words Rami needed. After tomorrow, everything was going to change, and he needed strength and hope to believe that whatever shape they took on the other side was going to be stronger. And better.

And would last forever.

Rami stared at himself in the mirror, his gaze fixated on the small dimple he had in the little wrinkle on the left side of his chin. It was only visible when he pursed his lips or smiled. His gaze tracked his jawline and his beard, which was getting a little too long for his comfort.

He scratched at his skin for a second, then made himself stop. If he continued, he’d get obsessive about it, then be unable to focus on anything except shaving, and he couldn’t afford that kind of distraction. He was about to start his live. The clock was ticking down, and there were ten minutes left.

He was freshly showered, his hair twisted high on the back of his head, and he was wearing a large tattoo cover patch over his ink because he wasn’t going to take another risk like the one that had given his identity away to Skye.

Not that he regretted that now, but he couldn’t help think about how wrong it might have gone if the situation had been different. If he’d never met Skye, he’d be doing this night alone, waiting on a stranger to take his last bit of virginity.

The thought made him feel…strange. Uncomfortable. And yet also profoundly grateful that a man had tumbled head over heels—literally—and landed in his front yard.

He lifted trembling fingers and ran them around his lips. They were dry and chapped, but he had no energy to do anything about his nerves. He’d used it all up prepping himself for what was to come.

Behind him, in the bedroom, his laptop was perched on the end of the desk. His setup was what Skye had asked for. He’d shifted his bed to the side, and there was a chair with the toy Skye had bought him suctioned to the seat. He was going to ride it and stroke himself with his legs spread so both of his cocks would be on display.

He was going to edge himself and edge himself until he saw Skye’s bid, and then…

Then it would be over. The long months he’d been doing this—using what he’d been given at birth to pull himself out of a rut—were about to come to an end. It felt…strange. Like he was about to mourn the loss, which he wasn’t expecting. He hadn’t loved being on display only because he wasn’t a huge fan of attention.

But it was easier when they were nothing more than screen names. When they hadn’t seen his face. When he was entirely anonymous, apart from his one defining feature that no one would ever see again apart from Skye.

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