Page 2 of The Cowboy's Second Chance
There was no way that he was going to let Derrick have this all his own way. The way Derrick was kissing him, it was rough, almost dominant, and it sparked something in Logan that he just couldn’t resist. It was a challenge, that was what it was, and Logan might generally be pretty easy going, but he wasn’t the sort of man who could back down from a challenge.
So he kissed Derrick back.
His hands found the small of Derrick’s back, his slender, tight little waist, and Logan realized just how slender this man was. Not like Logan himself, broad and strong and muscular. Derrick was ripped, he could feel that much easily, and he was tall and strong, but much leaner than Logan.
Logan had never realized just how attractive that could be to him.
Tongues tangling, their bodies pressed together, like even in this they had to argue, they kissed like their lives depended on it. Without even meaning to, Logan’s hands slid down to cup the firm roundness of Derrick’s tight little ass, and he hauled Derrick against him so that their hips lined up.
Derrick was just as hard as he was. By some miracle, this man wanted Logan, maybe even as much as Logan wanted him. Maybe it was just the whiskey making it happen, but it was.
Oh, shit. The whiskey.
Even drunk, Logan knew that the concepts of right and wrong meant something, and for them to be doing this while they were drunk, that wasn’t right. He didn’t even really have Derrick’s consent. And even though he had the feeling that they would both be willing to go much further than this, even though he could feel the length of Derrick’s hard cock throbbing against his own even through the layers of their jeans, the alcohol made it impossible for Logan to know for sure that this was something Derrick wanted.
Kissing was probably okay, but the question was, how much past kissing would they want to go if they let themselves? Already, Logan was having some intense fantasies about pulling Derrick’s clothing from him, wanting to see if he looked as good as he felt.
But he couldn’t do it. Malcolm was going to kill him enough for this if he ever found out, and Logan knew that he would deserve it if he took advantage of a drunk Derrick. So he groaned and forced himself to use his grip on Derrick’s ass to tug him right off of himself, setting him down as gently as he could on the couch beside him instead.
“Go to bed,” Logan demanded, his voice a low, aroused growl as he let his gaze wander over Derrick’s form, spread out for him over the couch, so obviously aroused. “Sleep it off.”
Before Derrick could protest, although Logan knew that Derrick definitely would, Logan rose to his feet and took a step back. Every movement away from the gorgeous man was torture, and his mind might understand why he was doing this, but his body didn’t. He wanted Derrick, and Derrick wanted him, so why was he doing this to himself?
“If you want me later,” Logan found himself adding, on nothing but impulse, “when you’re sober, you know where to find me.”
With that, Logan forced himself to turn on his heel and walk away, and he refused to look back. Because if he did, if he had to see Derrick spread out over the couch, wanting him, for even one more second, he was going to go insane and then he wasn’t sure he would be able to resist the handsome, forbidden young man.
Malcolm was really,really,going to kill Logan for this. But there was no chance, was there, that Derrick would want someone like Logan when he was sober?
