Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 118125 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118125 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
“Wondering isn’t wallowing.” Rian took a step closer and rested his hand over Damon’s heart, pale fingers splayed against his chest. “It’s okay to be hurt, Damon.”
Underneath Rian’s touch, Damon’s heart thundered, rolled, stormed, rioted. He shuddered subtly; it hurt, the force of it, the way it beat and bruised itself with this constant pummeling, this violence of feeling. Something inside him wanted Rian, wanted that shy smile, that slim frame leaning toward him, everything about him—and it was determined to get to Rian even if it had to claw through Damon from the inside to do it.
His mouth and throat were dry, as he lifted one hand to cover Rian’s, held it against his chest, wondered if Rian could feel its fierce and hungry beat. “What if that’s not the only thing hurting me?”
Rian swayed closer; his face tilted up toward Damon’s, his eyes searching. “What else, then...?”
Don’t do it.
He’d told himself he wouldn’t do this again.
But he was a magnet telling himself not to be attracted to his opposite pole, trying to deny that intense force that just drew him closer and closer again, trying to hold himself apart when it was physics with its demanding pull, unstoppable and undeniable.
And he didn’t know if he was answering that question or saying his name just to taste it, as Damon whispered, “Rian.”
Then bent to close that last distance between them, and pressed their mouths together in a lush and lingering kiss.
Chapter Eleven
Rian hadn’t known how much he needed to be kissed by Damon again until it was happening.
He’d meant to let it go. He’d wanted to let it go, when Damon had been so clearly trying to brush that first kiss off as nothing; if Damon had his reasons, he had his reasons, and Rian hadn’t wanted to hurt him by pushing and infringing on him if Damon just...didn’t want to cross that line, whether it was because of Rian himself or because of something personal to Damon. It had just been a kiss. A kiss that had torn Rian up for a week, a kiss that had stitched through him like needles of light and warmth and loveliness, a kiss that had made him think maybe, just maybe there was something to that silly little thing about loathing masking desire after all.
A kiss he’d wanted again and again.
And a kiss he needed so desperately right now, when his heart was hurting and everything felt wrong and hopeless and helpless, and the only thing that made him feel right and calm and safe again was Damon.
The way Damon kissed Rian left him soft and so weak he could barely stand up, clutching at the front of Damon’s shirt to keep himself in one piece as he leaned into the touch of firm, heated lips. Slow—so slow, Damon took his time kissing Rian as if bringing each part of his lips, his mouth to life with his touch; making him aware of the texture of his own lips, the shape of the upper, the lower, each point and curve, each tingling nerve from corner to corner, until his mouth throbbed and centered every point of sensation on the need for the next touch, the next taste, the next wet-hot tease of Damon’s tongue tracing over his mouth and then stealing past to coax Rian open with a lazy intimacy that made him tremble.
As if Damon was saying let me in.
Let me in...and let me have control.
Rian was accustomed to dominance coming with force. With insistence. With pushy aggression that overwhelmed him...but Damon overwhelmed him with gentleness, the slick glide of his tongue not demanding Rian’s surrender—but making him want so deeply to give it that he couldn’t help but melt, parting his lips, giving up everything to those slow strokes and the suggestive, feinting penetration of each sweet thrust past his lips. He tried to kiss Damon back; he tried, but with his mouth so sensitized and his entire body turning into needy prickles, every touch shook through him until he gave in helplessly and let Damon have...
Whatever he wanted.
Rian would give Damon whatever he wanted, right now.
Even if it meant all of him.
And he stole his fingers into Damon’s hair, coiling the slick, cool strands around his fingers as if they were a lifeline, asking with every touch of his fingertips stroking down to Damon’s scalp: Do you feel it?
Do you feel this, too?
This quiet need. This empty loneliness. This sense of being adrift without an anchor...and the only thing keeping them afloat was each other. The way they clung to each other; the way their mouths met again and again in breathless, light-teasing strokes, stealing taste after taste after taste. The way Damon’s hands slid up Rian’s back to pull him into the hard breadth of Damon’s body...and the way Rian couldn’t help yielding to mold himself against Damon, letting that sensitivity spread from his lips out to his fingertips until he could enjoy the sheer sensuous pleasure of feeling Damon with every inch of him.