Page 41 of Waiting for a Prince
“But…. But…” Sam’s voice quavered. “I kissed you—and you kissed me back. I didn’t dream that part, did I? Thatwasyou moaning just now?”
Mark shifted away from him. “Yes, I’m attracted to you. Hell, you heard me last night. That wasn’t a lie.” He softened his voice when he saw confusion etched across Sam’s face. “And yes, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a guy. But none of that matters.” Mark swallowed. “You have a girlfriend, Sam. And I’m sorry, but I will not be a party to you cheating on Rebecca.” His chest tightened as he said the words. “I only have sex with single guys.” Then he sighed. “Okay, so I have no idea if they’re in a relationship or not. They’re only there to get blown or fucked. But Idocheck for a wedding ring, every time.” He fixed Sam with an intense look. “That’s beside the point. I don’t know every guy I hook up with—not that there have beenthatmany, I hasten to add—whereas Idoknow you. I’ve met Rebecca.” He shook his head once more. “I’m sorry, Sam. Much as I would love to take you into my bedroom right now and fuck your brains out,”—Sam jerked his head back in surprise—“I’m not going to.”
There was a moment of stunned silence before Sam spoke. “You… want me?”
Mark chuckled. “Oh God, Sam, you havenoidea how much I want you.” He watched Sam’s pupils dilate, and that simple physical reaction spoke louder than words ever could. “But we can’t,” Mark stressed, as gently as he could. Even as he said it, he felt his cock harden, his nipples tighten into hard little nubs. God, he ached. He gazed down at his mug of coffee, deliberately avoiding Sam’s gaze. He heard the hitch in Sam’s breathing and waited for his next words.
“You’re right.” Despite his words, however, there was no mistaking the note of reluctance in Sam’s tone.
Mark heaved a sigh of relief. He’d instinctively known Sam was an honourable guy, but it was good to hear him confirm Mark’s faith in him. It didn’t stop Mark’s heart from sinking, all the same.
Why in God’s name do I have to be so principled?
“Would you mind if we talked some more?” Sam’s question was almost shy.
Mark smiled. “Not at all. I have some questions of my own.” He watched as Sam nervously gulped down his coffee. Mark had an idea. “How about we go somewhere and have some breakfast? I know a quiet place where we could grab a couple of bacon sandwiches and sit and look at the sea. What do you say?” He mentally crossed his fingers. Anything to get Sam out of his flat and away from the temptation of taking him to bed. Having principles was one thing, but Mark wasn’t Superman by any stretch of the imagination. He had no idea how long he could resist the lure of those blue eyes, that tight body. Right now, he was fighting the urge to stretch Sam out on the couch under him and trace every tattoo with his tongue, and play with the silvery rings through his nipples, tugging at them with his teeth.
Thankfully, Sam appeared to like the idea. “That sounds good,” he acknowledged. “Can I ask a favour, though?” Mark waited expectantly. “Would it be okay if I grabbed a quickshower? I was sitting on the beach for a good few hours last night, and I feel kind of sandy.” He flushed as he looked down at the couch. “I hope I didn’t get sand everywhere.”
Mark got to his feet and collected Sam’s empty mug, along with his own. “Sure. I was going to have a shower myself. You go first. I’ll find you a towel.” Sam gave him a grateful smile. Mark deposited the mugs in the kitchen sink and went in search of a clean towel.
And while he’s showering, I need to steer clear of the bathroom, Mark thought decisively.
No, definitelynotSuperman.
Sam bowed his head under the stream of warm water, letting it sluice away sand and sleep.
I haven’t screwed it up.
Well, not entirely. He wasn’t out of the woods yet, and Mark would never get to hear the whole story.
No one would.
But their conversation had provided a glimmer of hope.
Sam still had his friend. More importantly, Mark had feelings for him, not that he would act on them, and that only confirmed what Sam had suspected.
Mark’s one of the good guys.
He’d have to be careful during their next conversation. There was only so much he could reveal.
How far am I prepared to go?
As far as it took to keep Mark in his life. Not the way Sam wanted him, but he’d resigned himself to that.
Mark’s question of the previous night resurfaced.
Why do you stay with her?
A question he couldn’t answer, because the truth filled him with self-loathing.
Anger.
Disgust.
The words of a song came to him, something about turning back time.
What would I do differently?
