Page 48 of Never Stay Gone
Nerves fluttered through Shane, butterfly wings taking flight inside his veins. Shane had just bared his soul to Dakota, opened himself all the way in a way he never had to anyone, not even to himself, and Dakota had done the same. He and Dakota had shared everything there was to share between lovers, kisses and words and truths and their bodies, but that was before. Now, he wanted to lean across the inch that separated them, press their lips together, but…
Why was he scared to kiss the man he loved?
At least Dakota seemed nervous too. Hesitant, when his eyes flicked from Shane’s gaze to his lips and then down.
The last kiss they’d shared was the weekend before graduation, when they had sneaked out to their desert spot before they had to go home and study for finals. Dakota had been serious about those finals, so focused on graduating and getting his diploma. He’d said he had plans for after high school, plans he’d tell Shane about after their last class.
That night, the last night they’d had together, they were supposed to be watching meteors and counting how many they saw for science class extra credit, but they’d spent half the night mapping starlight in the depths of each other’s eyes. He’d pulled Dakota into his arms and kissed him, sunk his hands into Dakota’s unruly hair. Felt his smile and his heartbeat and thought,This is what I want.
Shane took Dakota’s face between his hands.This is still everything I want. Dakota’s cheeks were stubbled. His face was leaner, more hollow than when he was a teen. He had the start of tension lines around his mouth, years of hard living taking their toll. What life had Dakota lived while they were apart? While Shane was limping and feeling sorry for himself, what had Dakota endured? Shane ran his thumb over Dakota’s lips, spread his fingers across Dakota’s jaw. Dakota’s skin was still damp from his tears.
He felt Dakota’s shaking breath as he closed the distance between them. Felt, more than heard, Dakota breathe, “Shane,” before he kissed Dakota gently, softly, asking permission to come back.
Dakota’s lips parted beneath his, and he sighed, the hand that wasn’t still pressed to Shane’s chest rising to wrap around the back of Shane’s head.
Thirteen years fell away. Shane’s kiss went from sweet to hungry, fevered, devouring Dakota like he’d dreamed of, like he’d woken up aching for a hundred, a thousand different nights. He moaned and rose to his knees, mirroring Dakota as they came together in the center of the bed.
Lightning struck Shane, set him on fire from the inside out. Need burned through him, and desire, the yearning he’d felt around Dakota from the beginning. He hadn’t ever felt like this with anyone else.
Dakota pushed him backward, climbing on top of Shane without breaking their kiss. Shane dug his fingers into Dakota’s hair, trying to hold Dakota to him forever, but Dakota’s lips left his to trail kisses over his jaw, down his neck, to the open collar of his uniform shirt. Fingers worked at his shirt buttons, tickling him through the layers. Shane grasped the hem of Dakota’s T-shirt and tugged upward as Dakota ripped open his uniform and shoved it down his arms. Shane shed his button-down, tore his undershirt off, flung both over the side of the bed.
Dakota’s ring tumbled on its chain, resting over the swell of his pec and his heart.
He dragged Dakota back into his arms, kissing him as he hooked one leg around the back of Dakota’s thigh. Shirtless chest pressed against shirtless chest, Dakota’s ring a solid weight between them again. Dakota shifted, nudged Shane’s thighs wider—
Shane threw his head back and moaned. The feel of Dakota against him, on top of him, his hard length pushing against Shane’s. He dug his fingers into Dakota’s back as Dakota rained kisses across his chest. Bit down on the tender skin over his collarbone and gave a gentle thrust of his hips.
Jesus, this was what he needed, what he’d wanted for so many years. Not just a man, but Dakota. If he’d gone out and found a man in a seedy bar, it wouldn’t have felt like this. Wouldn’t have been anywhere close to this. He belonged to Dakota, and he always had. Shane spread his thighs wider. Dug his bootheel into the back of Dakota’s leg and tried to pull him even closer.
Dakota’s rough hands ran over his skin like he was sculpting Shane into existence. He caressed Shane’s sides, feathered fingertips across his chest and over his nipples, then sank his palms down around Shane’s back and into the waistband of his jeans. Shane groaned and fumbled for his fly, trying to get his belt and his button undone at the same time. His hands were shaking too much to do either.
Dakota saved him, rock-steady hands covering his. Sliding down his zipper. Pulling his fly back. Fingers traced the elastic of his boxer briefs, then the rise and arch of his hipbones.
Shane was so hard he was dizzy, harder than the Viagra had ever made him. His cock strained against his underwear, the front already so wet with precome he was embarrassed by his need. He lifted his hips as Dakota got his hands inside his jeans and tugged until his cock popped free, and then Dakota tore off his boots, socks, and jeans, and he was—suddenly—naked. All the way naked, exposed to Dakota and the light of the motel room. They’d never had a bed, or lights, before. They’d never seen each other like this. Now…
He tried to curl up, one hand covering himself as he bent his bad knee. He wasn’t the same as he’d been in high school. He was heavier, softer, less defined. His leg and knee were a mess of scar tissue, Frankenstein zigzags and staples and discolored skin that had grown over the holes where pins had held his kneecap together for months.
“Shane,” Dakota murmured. He guided Shane’s hand away and ran his palm down Shane’s chest and belly and thigh until his warm hand covered the scarred and disfigured joint.
“It’s ugly, I know.I’mugly—”
“It’s not. And you’re not.”
Shane closed his eyes against Dakota’s scrutiny. Dakota’s gaze was too sharp, took in too much. “I know how I look. You probably liked me better when I was the hotshot quarterback. I was in shape—”
“No.” Dakota stretched out on top of him, chest to chest, and nuzzled Shane’s cheek. “You’re perfect like this. You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”
Shane snorted. “You need your eyes checked—”
“You’re my Shane.” Dakota kissed him, and kissed him, until he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. He grabbed on to Dakota and wrapped his legs around Dakota’s hips. His cock was aching, friction burning him as he humped Dakota’s cock through his jeans.
Why was Dakota still in jeans? “Get these off,” Shane grunted. Dakota had to roll off Shane to wiggle them off his hips, and when he did, Shane went with him. He couldn’t be apart from Dakota, not for one second more. Couldn’t not touch this man he loved, run his hands over every part of the body that he craved, that he’d dreamed of nearly every night. Shane peeled Dakota’s jeans off like Dakota had done to him, until it was Dakota who was spread out and buck naked like he never had been when they were messing around under the stars and the moon in the back of Shane’s truck.
Shane trailed his eyes over Dakota’s body. Dakota was the same and different all at once. The same long, lean limbs, contrasting with Shane’s stockier build. The years hadn’t gone easy on Dakota, and while Dakota had packed on muscle and turned from a somewhat gangly teenager into a hard-bodied man, he also had more scars than Shane wanted to see on the man he loved. A dusting of raised and healed-over skin along one shoulder that looked like the results of shrapnel. Long, thin lines carved over his ribs, what looked like old, deep cuts. A burn that ran over one bicep and curled under his armpit. And a blooming starburst of thick scar tissue just below his hip and over his thigh. Shane ghosted his fingers over the puckered skin. “You wereshot?”
Dakota took his hand and tugged until Shane lay fully on top of him. “I’m fine.”
“Youwereshot.”
