Page 67 of Role Model

“I’ll take that,” Harris said, grabbing for the empty container. “I’m going to the bathroom anyway.”

He needed distance. Now.

In the bathroom, he rinsed out the container, then brushed his teeth, drank some water, and examined himself in the mirror. He looked exactly like he felt: wired, exhausted, on edge. He wondered if Troy would go back to his own room now. He didn’t want him to.

Troy was curled up on his side, facing away, when Harris returned to the bed. The change in position gave Harris an eyeful of Troy’s muscular ass, his broad back and shoulders, and his oddly adorable socked feet.

Cautiously, Harris approached the bed. He wanted to drape himself over Troy’s gorgeous body and breathe him in, but instead he left some distance between them when he lay on the bed beside him.

Harris faced the ceiling with his hands folded on his stomach, avoiding all temptation. “You can stay,” he said.

There was a long pause before Troy murmured, sleepily, “You sure?”

“Yeah. Stay.”

“Thanks.”

He couldn’t stop himself from gazing helplessly at the slow rise and fall of Troy’s back. At the short hairs on the back of Troy’s neck. At the absolutely normal, yet somehow precious curve of his ear.

He allowed himself a few moments of furtive admiration before turning off the television, then the lamp. They were both on top of the duvet, and maybe that was fine for tonight. It would be safe.

He rolled to his side, away from Troy. He still couldn’t sleep, but he liked listening to Troy breathe. It was nice to have another body close, even if he couldn’t touch him.

In the dark, memories from the plane came racing back, playing in a horrible, looped clip package in Harris’s brain. He tried some deep breathing.

“You okay?” Troy’s voice was low and scratchy, and Harris stopped breathing altogether at the sound of it.

“Yeah. Sort of. I don’t know.”

There was movement behind him, and then Troy’s big, warm hand was on Harris’s arm. “Can I help?”

Harris gnawed on his lip, deciding what to say. “I’m glad you’re here.”

More movement, and then Troy’s body was almost touching his. He could feel Troy’s breath on the back of his neck when he said, “Me too.”

For a moment, everything was very still and quiet. And then Troy’s hand slid, very slowly and gently, down Harris’s arm to his wrist. Harris was sure every hair was standing up in its wake.

Troy stopped at his wrist, fingers lightly stroking the sensitive underside, and Harris would swear it was the most intimate touch he’d ever received. He stifled a gasp, not wanting to make a sound in case Troy realized what he was doing and stopped.

But Troy didn’t stop. He stretched his fingertips and brushed them over Harris’s palm, making him shiver.

Touch me, Harris thought. Touch me everywhere.

Warm breath tickled his nape. “I’m sorry you were on that plane.”

Harris exhaled. “Could’ve been worse.” He curled his fingers until they met Troy’s in the middle of his palm.

“I know.” And then Troy pressed his lips, just briefly, to the back of Harris’s neck. It was the softest of kisses, almost nothing, but Harris couldn’t hold in his gasp this time.

“Sorry,” Troy said, and he began to pull away. Harris laced their fingers together and pulled him close, wrapping Troy’s arm firmly around his chest.

“I wouldn’t hate it if you did that again,” Harris said.

For a moment, Troy did nothing. Then Harris felt the wonderful tickle of his lips against his neck again. Then another kiss, just below that spot. Then another, to the right. Painfully gentle and perfect.

The mattress shifted, and Troy must have raised himself up a bit because now his lips were caressing Harris from a new angle. He trailed kisses up the side of his neck, behind his ear, making Harris shudder happily.

Troy sighed against Harris’s skin, then Harris felt the wet warmth of a tongue, just under his ear where his beard started.

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