Page 8 of Forever Not Yours

“Yeah.”

Admission? Yes. I wasn’t in any closet, but I wasn’t openly gay either. I was just me.

“Boyfriend?” He cocked his head.

“No. I wouldn’t be out kissing other blokes if I did.”

“Doyou kiss other blokes? Did you kiss anyone else this evening?”

“No! I don’t mess with people… like… do shit like that.”

“Well.” He grimaced. “I think I just did. That was bad, wasn’t it?”

“Does it count?” Of course it did.

“It’s my stag night. It was just a kiss.” He suddenly didn’t look so sure. “Oh God, and now I will have to tell Juliet.”

Oh.

“You know what she’s like,” he nattered on. “She’ll push and push, and she always knows if I’m stewingover something, and then she’ll get all pissed off with me and…”

You know I said I’d loved him my whole life? Things like that made you do bad things. Especially since we were finally talking about it, making sense of our behaviour and sensibly pulling back.

Or that’s what we should have done.

But he was too close. When had he moved this close? Too much him suddenly right there, his breath soft and warm against my face, those eyes staring at me with so much intensity. When Bastien looked at me, my world went silent. Any background noise went straight into the white.

I had already lost control once today, and my walls were paper thin. My defences were down. His mouth was still running as I leaned in and silenced him with mine, placing the lightest of kisses on his lips.

I had no idea what to expect, and to be honest, my brain was offline, but he let go of my wrists and cupped my face, soft palms warm against the rough stubble on my cheeks.

I kissed him again, and again, tasting him, letting myself feel everything that, in that moment, I needed.

I needed the calm he brought. The gentleness. The way I went from something hard and professional to this mound of jelly. Me. Him. The nothingness around us.

When I said I wasn’t drunk, I lied. I’d had my fill of alcoholic drinks. Liquid lunch and dinner. Afternoon pick-me-ups. Shots of vodka to calm my frazzled nerves. I’d spent the whole day trying to smother the screaming inside of me, desperately trying to keep my cool.

I wanted to pull back, to put an end to this madness. But there was no way I could, the way he was clinging to me and somehow rising up off the bed, his arms snaking around my neck.

I wasn’t fully on board with the logistics of our movement, but he was up on his knees, still kissing me from above, his fingers tugging at my hair, his mouth seemingly everywhere. In mine. On mine. Wetness against my cheek. My chin. Gentle kisses on my neck as his hands followed, pushing on my shoulders as we tumbled backwards, my arms catching him as we fell, him on top, me splayed sideways over the corner of the bed.

“Don’t stop,” he begged.

What the hell, Bastien?

“I know you think I’m all drunk and hypo and everything, but seriously. Don’t stop. Please don’t. Let me have this, because right now, it’s what I need. I need you to…”

Sense? What was that and where had it gone? Left the building, obviously, as I grabbed his wrist and flipped him over so now I was on top, his slim body underneath me, his wrists pinned to the bed either side of his head. I had to be careful with his pump, his sensor, all things that were second nature to me. I’d always been careful, considerate of him, yet…

I was rolling on muscle memory, behaving as if he was one of my hook-ups. I had a type. I knew exactly what made me tick and what kind of guy would give it to me.

Bastian was nothing like that, yet…here I was, growling slightly under my breath as I gnashed my teeth in frustration.

This was not good. This was not sane.

“Jake.” He was staring up at me so intensely, I had to turn away. “Look at me.”

I did. What else could I do? Unconsciously, my grip on his wrists tightened, and he sucked in air.

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