Page 43 of A Cold Hard Truth

Remington made a soft sound and crashed their mouths back together. This time his tongue moved with long and sure strokes, exploring the inside of Sebastian’s mouth like he was a topographer, not an archivist.

Sebastian leaned in, and Remington caught him, strong fingers wrapping around him and righting him. It felt right to be this way, against Remington, in his arms, and as he settled into all of the new feelings, Remington bit him. Nothing more than the barest of nips against his lower lip, but Sebastian saw stars. He got dizzy, his head feeling like it filled with helium and threatening to burst off his neck, and he moaned, his cock jerking madly against his leg.

The hardest, hottest part of him bumped against Remington’s thigh and Remington groaned, his fingers and hands pressing harder against Sebastian’s skin. Remington moved, not separating their mouths, and that was when Sebastian felt it. When Sebastian felt him.

Remington was hard, his thick length pressed hot against him. Even through the material of their pants, Sebastian could feel the size of it. He wanted to actually feel it, wanted to touch, to compare those pieces of themselves in the palm of his hand. He dared to reach between their bodies, brave fingers fumbling around his belt. The tine rattled, and Remington ended the kiss, a rough gasp tumbling out of his mouth and dancing across Sebastian’s kiss-swollen lower lip.

He dropped his belt and raised his hand, pressing his fingers against the place Remington had bit him, and then he looked down at the embarrassing way his cock tented his slacks.

“So,” he muttered, clearing his throat. “That’s a thing.”

Remington made a less graceful sound and lowered his hands like he wanted to hide his own arousal from Sebastian’s eager eyes.

“Did you doubt it?”

“No. Not so much. But it’s nice to be sure.”

Remington’s eyes fell closed and his mouth dipped into a frown. The remnants of their spit glistened in the light and Sebastian ached to touch.

“Was it just a test?” Remington mumbled.

“What? No. Oh, God, no. Not at all.” He reached out, his fingertips grazing across the front buttons of Remington’s shirt. The material was soft… expensive. Sebastian could tell, and he plucked it between his fingers and pulled Remington back toward him. “Not a test.”

“Alright.” Remington let out a breath.

“What happens now?” he asked, smoothing down the wrinkle he’d left in Remington’s shirt.

Remington laughed, rewarding him with a soft and honest smile. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want to stay?” Sebastian tilted his head toward the bedroom.

“I think that’s enough for one night,” Remington said before adding, “The first night.”

“When can I see you again?”

Remington looked like the question hurt him, and he leaned in, fast and hard to press a closed mouth kiss against Sebastian’s ready mouth.

“Soon,” he whispered. “Really soon.”

Chapter Thirteen

Remington Doesn’t Know What to Do

Soon had been an overstatement.

It was pushing a week since Remington had kissed Sebastian and ran away. A week his messages had sat silent, no incoming alerts from George… or Sebastian. A week he’d let the whole thing fester because he hadn’t quite been able to get his feet under him and he didn’t want to be an embarrassment.

Again.

“You look like someone killed your cat,” Jace said from the doorway.

Remington looked up from his place on the couch and patted the empty cushion beside him. It was nice when Jace was home, even though he’d been working through making plans to officially move in with Callahan. Remington would miss their Friday movie nights, but like he’d told Jace before he’d gone to Mallardsville in the first place, the arrangement they had wouldn’t last forever.

“I don’t have a cat,” he said, after Jace had settled in beside him. “How long are you here for this time?”

Jace grimaced and let out a pained breath. “I was going to go to Callahan’s later. After the movie.”

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. I don’t want to keep you.”