Page 13 of A Furever Home (Gaynor Beach Animal Rescue #8)

ARTHUR

I hadn’t meant to kiss Brooklyn. Totally not. No matter how many times I’d thought about it in the last few days. Until the moment our lips met, dry and soft, the salt and tang of vinegar chips between us, I didn’t realize what I was doing.

I let go instantly and lurched back. “Sorry! Wow, I didn’t mean—My bad. Do you want me to go? I should go.” I scrabbled for that damned crutch but Brooklyn went to one knee and leaned close, his eyes on mine.

“Hey, Arthur, slow down. Take it easy. Breathe.” He set a hand on my shoulder, urging me not to stand.

I could’ve pushed free, but a couple of oxygen-containing breaths would be a good idea. I squeezed my eyes shut and sucked air into my tight chest. “Tell me I didn’t just kiss someone who didn’t want me to.” Please.

Brooklyn’s chuckle held a dark heat. “No. Definitely not that.”

“It’s not funny. Consent.” I made myself look into his face, trying to read his expression. “You did say you were bi, right? But that’s not consent.”

Even if it had blasted the lid off the mythical “but he’s straight” box I’d been trying so hard to keep Brooklyn in.

Suspicion wasn’t evidence. Colin talking like Brooklyn was one of us wasn’t evidence.

I’d made “straight guy” a useful barrier between me and a man I liked way too much for one week of…

of him cooking for me, and helping me out, and driving me places, and charming my ornery little chihuahua.

Okay, maybe I had excuses for liking him.

“All the more reason not to assault you.”

“Arthur, that wasn’t assault. I’ve been trying hard not to flirt with you, but I think I failed. You wouldn’t have kissed me if you weren’t pretty sure I wanted it.”

I wasn’t so certain. He was so perfect and I’d gone a damned long time with just me and my hand, just me and my dogs, while James and the others found their forever guys. While I felt more and more certain I’d be alone forever?—

“Quit thinking so hard.” Brooklyn set one long-fingered hand against my bearded cheek, leaned in and brushed my lips with his.

I met his gaze, saw his pupils dilate in those hazel-green eyes before he leaned in again with purposeful intent.

This kiss wasn’t dry or soft. Brooklyn took possession of my mouth and I welcomed him, let my lips part, let my eyelids drift shut, and took everything he gave me.

His tongue raided my mouth, then teeth nipped my lower lip and his hand shifted from my cheek to thread into my long hair, tugging a little as if he knew I loved that.

I hadn’t gotten fully hard since the hospital, not even when I’d been imagining laying Brooklyn out on my bed like a gift while telling myself I was being a fool.

But now my dick stirred at the heat of his mouth on mine.

Relief and desire made me frantic, and I pressed toward him, driving the kiss.

I took his head in both hands and held him still as I changed the angle.

He opened for my tongue and we traded leads.

Brooklyn’s kissing was as generous as the man himself.

When we paused, drawing back a little, Brooklyn ran the back of his hand over his chin.

“Beard burn?” I asked. “I’m sorry. We don’t have to?—”

Brooklyn gave my hair another tug. “Hush up and kiss me again.”

So I did.

Seconds, minutes, hours later, my leg throbbed in deep displeasure at the way I was leaning. The pain jolted me out of the haze of need and want, glorying in a universe that was all Brooklyn West’s mouth. I managed to turn my yelp into a grunt but I had to sit back.

Brooklyn let go of me. “Head? Leg? What can I do?”

“Leg. I just need time for the ibuprofen to kick in. Stretch it out a bit.”

Brooklyn’s smile brightened his eyes. “Like, say, on a bed?”

“Um?”

“Only if you want to.” His grin faded. “I know you’re hurting.”

“Not that bad,” I told him. “I want to. If you don’t expect too much.”

“More kissing?”

“I can do that.” I let him get up first, then used the crutch to lever myself out of the chair.

My thigh rebelled against the first few steps, but it was just pain.

I forced my thoughts away from the vertigo and nausea that still sometimes hit out of the blue.

Tonight was a good night. Don’t think about that and it won’t happen.

I switched off the kitchen light and followed Brooklyn down the dim hallway with Eb dancing ahead of us.

At the bedroom doors, Brooklyn paused. “Your room or mine?” The tiny nightlight plugged in the wall didn’t let me read his expression.

“Yours.” I loved my dogs but I didn’t want Eb-nose or Chili-paws landing in naked places at the wrong moment. “Let me put Eb away.” The big dog gave me a betrayed look when I ushered him into my bedroom with the other two, but settled for an ear-rub before I closed the door. “Lead on.”

Brooklyn hovered in his doorway. “It’s not that clean. I wasn’t expecting this.”

“I really don’t care. You can’t work with animals and be too picky.”

“Right. Sure.” He hesitated a moment longer, then gestured me in.

The room was dark enough that I paused. “Is there a lamp, maybe? If I whack my leg on something the game’s over.”

“Of course.” Brooklyn hustled past the end of the bed and switched on a small lamp.

I was glad to see he had a king-sized bed, to suit his height, I guess, which would also suit my size. Most of the room was tidy, but the covers were twisted and askew off one side, the pillows disarranged. Looked like he’d been having a restless night.

No kidding, since he’s up at almost one in the morning.

Brooklyn tugged at the comforter and picked a pillow up off the floor. “I could change the sheets.”

I don’t mind if they smell like your skin. Not something I could say, but I hobbled to the bed and eased myself down to sit on the side. Brooklyn came and looked me over. “You want your leg raised?”

“If you’ll lie down beside me, yes.” I scooted around and grabbed my pants leg in my fist for leverage, but Brooklyn was there faster, holding my ankle in his hands, helping me raise my foot onto the bed.

There was nothing sexual about his touch, but his hands on my skin made my heart race.

I patted the bed beside me. “Come lie down.”

“Turn on your side and I’ll put a pillow under your knee.”

I wasn’t stupid enough to turn down some comfort, especially since my dick had gone soft with the walk from kitchen to bedroom. I rolled obediently onto my left side, and he got me settled before walking around the bed and getting in beside me.

Brooklyn stretched out, pushed up on his right elbow, and looked at me. “How are you doing?”

“Peachy,” I lied, because movement was still bad, but even as I said it the worst of the ache backed off a bit.

“Meds will be kicking in soon.” I reached out to trace the line of his arm from his wrist up over his lean biceps to the curve of his shoulder.

“You want to tell me what made you turn the bed into a disaster zone?”

“Not now. Not at all sexy.” He reached out in his turn to touch the tattoo sleeve on my forearm. “Why don’t you tell me what this means.”

Someday I’d give him the details, maybe.

Sometime that wasn’t the first night I had Brooklyn’s fingers dancing on my skin.

“Places I’ve been, things I’ve done. It was all separate bits and then when I hit Gaynor Beach and decided I was staying, I found an artist to turn the sections into true sleeves with the Celtic knotwork to tie it all together. ”

“Must’ve taken a while.”

I shivered as he traced the loops of the knots above my wrist. “Yeah, it did.”

“I like it. The detail suits you.”

I wasn’t sure how he meant that. I was a pretty simple guy. But my leg had settled down some, and when Brooklyn raised his attention from my tattooed arm to my face, I leaned forward and kissed him.

He met my lips, then scooted closer and wrapped his arms around me.

His warm, bare chest pressed against mine through my T-shirt.

He took my mouth, fast and hard, and I liked letting him set the pace.

I was a big guy and I sometimes worried I was overwhelming the man I was with, but not now.

Brooklyn took control and I was happy to accept his kiss and his tongue, the clutch of his arms around my shoulders, the tug of his hand in my hair.

He groaned into my mouth and I echoed him. My dick charged back onboard, rising hard and eager, mashed up against Brooklyn’s thigh. I arched my back, thrusting against his leg and he grunted. “Yeah, that’s good.”

I wrenched my mouth free to say, “I want you naked.”

“You too.” He rolled away from me to tug off his sleep pants, and I paused, hand on the hem of my T-shirt, to watch. His cock sprang free from his waistband, long and slender and uncut, a little curved, the head ruddy and already rising from the foreskin.

My mouth watered, thinking about tasting him.

He slid the pants down his thighs and off over his feet and paused, looking my way.

He had runner’s legs with long lean muscles, and a flat, tight ass with those dimples that begged for a kiss.

What little hair he had dusted between his nipples down to a thin treasure trail, neatly trimmed pubes, and a little more fur on his thighs. Nothing like my ginger pelt.

Brooklyn eyed me as he folded his pants and draped them over the foot of the bed. “You waiting for an engraved invitation?”

“Just enjoying the show.” I felt my cheeks heat, because sexual innuendo, or whatever that had been, was not my comfort zone. I added, “You’re hot as hell,” because compliments I could do.

“Thanks.” He sat against the headboard and ran a hand down his chest to thumb the head of his cock. A little slick already glazed his fingertip. The groan that left my lips when he sucked his finger clean made him smile. “Come on. Your turn.”

I was comfy lying there, so I tried stripping off my T-shirt without sitting up. I got tangled in the second sleeve, but Brooklyn reached over and got me free.