Page 22 of A Life Betrayed

“I wonder,” Rayan shot back.

“No one will take you seriously in that fucking thing. You look like a frat boy at football practice.”

Rayan laughed, glancing down at the oversized sweater he’d thrown on before leaving the apartment. He’d picked it up at the bookstore one rainy day after getting soaked on his way to class. It bore the school’s name and a white coat of arms—tasteless but surprisingly warm. Perhaps on some level, it had been an attempt to blend in with the hordes of carefree students who roamed the campus, pretending that he was one of them and not an entirely different beast.

“I’m sure there’s one in your color.” He pulled himself onto Mathias’s lap, his legs astride the man’s muscular thighs. The feel of Mathias beneath him sent a spike of heat through his insides. Rayan reached for the hem of the sweater and yanked it over his head to reveal his bare chest. “Better?”

“Getting there,” Mathias murmured, running his hands down Rayan’s back to grip his ass.

Rayan lowered his head and kissed him hard. Mathias parted his lips, heady and soft, and the rest faded into nothing, time slowing to a crawl.

“Miss me?” Mathias snickered when Rayan emerged, his breathing shallow.

“Maybe.” Rayan ground against him, rocking his hips as the blood surged between his legs.

Mathias wasted no time removing Rayan’s cock from his jeans, and it sprang, insistent, into his hand. Suddenly impatient, Rayan tugged at the front of Mathias’s slacks, unbuckled him, and pulled his hardening cock from his fly. Mathias spat into his palm and gripped their shafts together, easing his wrist up and down in long, deliberate strokes.

“How about now?” Mathias ran his mouth along the underside of Rayan’s jaw and nipped the flesh of his earlobe.

This time, Rayan didn’t answer, managing only a low moan. He wrapped his arms around Mathias’s neck and bunched his fingers in the back of his shirt. He always felt overwhelmed when they once again found themselves together. Rayan’s arousal lurched forward, untamable, threatening his ability to hold back.

Mathias rubbed the pad of his thumb along the slit of Rayan’s cock, already leaking, and Rayan groaned. Mathias began to quicken his movements, squeezing and releasing in a way that made Rayan’s head spin. He tried to fight it, but the entire world had been reduced to the sensation of them pressed against each other, the warmth of Mathias’s hand as he drew it along the length of him. Rayan wanted to make it last—prolong this coveted closeness—yet at the same time, he did not want the man to stop.

When Rayan finished far too quickly, Mathias gave a soft chuckle, tracing a finger through the streaks of white across his stomach. “The stamina of a frat boy as well.”

“Fuck off,” Rayan muttered, burying his face in Mathias’s neck as he caught his breath. “It’s been weeks since I’ve seen you.”

“There’s three million people in this city. I’m sure someone can help with that.”

While Mathias’s tone was flippant, his gaze was watchful, like he’d laid down a trap and was waiting to see how Rayan would maneuver. Rayan remembered the way Noah had jumped him in the bathroom and how much he’d hated the feel of the cocky kid’s mouth.

“I don’t want anyone else,” Rayan said, trying to keep his voice light despite the depth of feeling that fact evoked. “What about you—full dance card?” He spoke casually, as if he hadn’t mulled the possibility over a hundred times, turning his jealousy over like a stone.

Mathias studied him. “You’re enough trouble as it is.”

A warmth flooded Rayan’s chest. He ducked his head, not wanting the satisfaction to show on his face. Shifting his weight, he pushed Mathias’s hand away so his alone was wrapped around the man’s cock and began to move—quick, tight jerks, fingers slick with his own come. He yanked open the buttons of Mathias’s shirt with the other hand and lowered his mouth to his nipples, feeling Mathias swell in his grip. Rayan curled his wrist and ran his palm across the head of Mathias’s cock in slow, circular strokes. Mathias’s fingers dug into Rayan’s waist, and his chest rose rapidly as he closed in on his release. He came with a short growl, his forehead furrowing before a wave of pleasure washed over his face, momentarily smoothing the hard lines. It was Mathias at his most defenseless, and the sight always made Rayan’s throat constrict.

After releasing Mathias’s spent cock, Rayan reached for the discarded sweater and used it to swipe away the remnants of their encounter. “It’s good for something.”

Mathias smirked and pulled Rayan to him. The kiss moved from Rayan’s mouth to his jaw then the hollow of his neck and down to his shoulder blades. Rayan stroked the man’s hair, savoring the ease of Mathias’s hands on him, not wanting to break the spell.

“A woman was caught trying to scatter her husband’s ashes from the top of the CN Tower,” Rayan murmured as Mathias slid a hand along his chest.

“They found a man in Boucherville housing fifty raccoons in his basement,” Mathias returned, tracing Rayan’s ribs with his fingers.

Rayan laughed. “You win.”

“We seem to be giving the Anglos a run for their money.” Mathias brushed his nipple with a thumb, and Rayan—still on his lap—arched against him.

“How was the wedding?” Rayan asked in an attempt to keep him there if only for the moment.

Mathias grimaced. “Which one? They all bleed together.” It was no secret that Mathias despised the more socially taxing aspects of his new role. He’d never been one for appearances.

“What else is happening in the city?” Rayan missed the place, the language, and the culture, which felt so distant from his life in Toronto. He could almost picture what the mountain looked like this time of year.

But mention of Montreal made Mathias’s face harden, and he dropped his hands. “I have to get back.”

“Don’t.” The word came out before Rayan had the sense to swallow it.

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