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“Gosh,” Zach said.

Flint chuckled, and even his quiet amusement sounded sexy and intimate. “Just what I was going to say.”

Zach laughed.

Flint traced his cheekbone, tucked a strand of Zach’s hair behind his ear. “That was even nicer that I expected.”

Zach had never expected to kiss Flint, so he didn’t have a response.

Flint said gravely, “You’ve had a rough day. I don’t want to take advantage.”

“Oh.” Zach’s heart seemed to pause mid-step.

“But I don’t think you should be alone tonight. I can sleep here on the sofa, if you’d prefer that.”

Zach blinked. “Why would I prefer that?”

“Well, I just…” Flint abruptly seemed to lose his train of thought.

“I’m thirty not thirteen.”

Flint’s outline sat up straight. “Uh, I should sure as hell hope not!”

“My point is, I’m an adult. You don’t need to tuck me into bed. You don’t even need to stay—” Zach drew a sharp breath. “But I hope you will.”

The longest three seconds in the world passed before Flint said in a funny voice, “Hell. I didn’t even think you liked me.”

A couple of smartass comments flitted through Zach’s brain; he was so used to fencing with Flint, but there was something in Flint’s tone, something surprised and genuine and maybe, just maybe even a little vulnerable. Something that called for equal honesty from Zach.

He admitted, “I didn’t know you. I didn’t think you likedme.”

Flint’s laugh was soft. “Yeah, I like you. I’ve always thought you were—” He stopped there, shrugged, and leaned in for another kiss.

Chapter Nineteen

The decision—well, there was nodecision—there were no words or discussion, but somehow, they were moving from the living room sofa to the bedroom, and the effort of rising, of walking, of thinking—as much thinking as was possible in that shimmering haze of longing and desire—threatened to burst the fragile bubble of excitement and wonder. But then they were in Zach’s bedroom, standing beside Zach’s neatly made bed. Flint opened his arms and Zach moved into his hold. They melted together in a long kiss, and it was instantly okay again, their hands moving caressingly, almost absently unbuttoning, unzipping, sliding shirts over shoulders, tugging jeans over hips, down legs.

Zach winced, sucked in a breath—his taped knee was very painful—and Flint murmured apology, doing his best to kiss it better. He helped Zach onto the mattress, helped him settle, gazing down at Zach in the soft light. Flint was smiling and clear-eyed.

“What do you like?” he asked.

It wasn’t a difficult question, but Zach blinked because he’d only ever been with Ben. Sure, he’d read magazine articles and seen porn vids, but none of that was real.Thiswas real. The possibilities of this. All the possibilities. Including some he wasn’t ready to consider.

“I likeyou,” Zach answered, and that was the absolute truth.

Flint’s expression altered, his smile—Zach had never seen that smile before, but he couldn’t help thinking he liked being able to make Flint look like that.

“We’ll figure it out as we go,” Flint promised—and it really did sound like a promise. He slipped Zach’s glasses off—the glasses Zach didn’t remember sliding back on.

It was almost shockingly easy to let go, to give into this unexpected, unlooked for…how to put a name to it? It was too chivalrous, too tender for seduction—and who was seducing whom anyway? It felt disarmingly like that Happily Ever After Alton had said only existed in fairy tales.

Flint’s hard, sure hand cupped Zach’s balls, and Zach squeezed his eyes tight in pleasure. He’d gotten used to—resigned to—doing without, but how lovely to have this again. To be touched with nothing expected beyond reciprocation, which Zach was more than happy to give.

At last, they were naked together beneath the blankets, the world shrinking to the slow slide of skin on skin, moist, lingering kisses, the caress of warm hands, encouraging murmurs. The hot sweetness of shared arousal, shared need, spilled all too soon between them.

Meow?

Zach unstuck his eyelids, blinked into the inquiring blur of Mr. B.’s aqua alien-eyes, and felt around for his glasses. He found them on his nightstand, slid them on—slid them off. His taped glasses had been replaced by the pair he’d lost in the garage.