Page 14

FOURTEEN

JACE

Disoriented and dazed, I didn’t know where I was for the first three heartbeats after waking up. A frown wrinkled the space between my eyebrows, and a tingling, warm sensation passed through my lower abdomen, my cock, and my balls.

Right . I looked down. The cover was tangled at the lower side of the bed, under my feet, and the window was open, letting in the city noise and the new day’s heat. In fact, it was so stuffy and hot in the bedroom that my naked body was covered in a thin layer of sweat already.

I glanced around. Lying on my back, I had to lift my head. Things transpired that couldn’t be reversed, I saw. My cock was hard as hell, standing at full mast at the crack of dawn and inviting me to deal with it. Next to me, all curves and muscles, was the object of all my fantasies and obsessions. Naked, Easton lay on his front, his arms folded under the pillow, his face turned away from me. The sheet didn’t cover a single inch of his sexy body. His back was broad and muscular, narrowing down to his waist. The small of his back was curved in, and his butt was firm, a sharp curve rising and forming that peachy delight I hungered for.

I turned on my side and laid the back of my finger on Easton’s upper back, tracing his spine in a slow, lazy move. His shoulder blades were pronounced in this position, and I ran my fingers over them. His smooth skin and summer tan made me want to feel him with my lips.

He muttered something into the pillow, inhaling deeply and sinking back to sleep.

My hand continued its leisurely journey down Easton’s back. Perhaps we’d needed seven years apart before crossing paths again. The years had tested my obsession with him, making me question if it was worth it, if it was real, but here I was, in Easton’s bed, remembering the dirty things I’d done to him.

If we’d stayed together in that house for a few more years, matured for real in each other’s company, and leaned into making a mistake such as this at some later point, there was no guarantee it would have ended well. Time apart had only strengthened my desire to have him.

As the tips of my fingers brushed over his curving lower back, my dick flexed. I didn’t fool myself; I was made of dark desires. My flesh was drenched with my appetite. My cells burned the energy to keep me moving, and the only way I wanted to go was here, closer to him, closer to heaven and hell and the special place in between the two where Easton and I had gone last night. Something that was wonderful and terrible at the same time, two opposites that held on to one another and became inseparable.

My hand moved lower, cupping Easton’s ass, giving it a gentle squeeze, then sliding between his cheeks. His pretty, pink hole clenched at the first contact with my fingers, his taint throbbing. He didn’t move away or swat my hand. His legs remained spread out on the bed, giving me a gorgeous view of his round ass.

I’d only done it out of curiosity. How far could I go? But as my hand moved over his tender spot, my appetite burst to life. It was warm there and wet, more inviting than it should have been, considering I’d taken from him everything he was able to give. I wanted him more this morning than I had wanted him yesterday, which was the exact opposite of how it usually went.

Not that I was surprised.

I didn’t keep a body count, but I’d had plenty of guys. Not once did I fool myself into thinking I had been replacing the one I had wanted all along. Everyone had only ever been a detour along the way, though I had been certain I would never get to the final destination.

Easton perched his ass up a bit, letting out a sigh. “Aren’t you supposed to ask for permission?”

“Do you ask your toaster’s permission to put the bread in?” I asked.

He made a strangled noise as my fingers applied a little more pressure on his little hole. The things I had done to it…

“I’m not a toaster, Jace,” Easton said.

“It’s cute that you think that,” I said.

“What?” Easton asked.

“You can be,” I explained. “If I say so.”

He lifted his head and looked at me over his shoulder. There was something in his eyes, something like incredulity. He couldn’t believe that being called a toaster turned him on. His cheeks were turning pink, and he blinked, stunned for a moment, before deciding not to give in. Now, he did swat my hand away. “You’re making me hungry.”

“Good,” I said. “I want to make you starve. Then I want to feed you.”

Easton dropped his head back on the pillow. “I don’t know if you’re being dirty or not.”

I moved my hand back to his cheeks and rubbed the right spot, making Easton groan. “I’m always dirty, Easton.” But my stomach rumbled in the next moment, and I decided that I should be literal about feeding us.

After a moment, I moved my hand back, and Easton turned around, confused, his eyes a little glassy as they had been in the heat of passion last night. He was beautifully hard, and I could only imagine how frustrating that must have been.

“Look at that,” I said with a smirk I couldn’t control. My hand went to Easton’s chest and traced the middle of it down to his cock. I gripped it, feeling it pump, and then I let go. “Don’t you dare touch it.”

Easton blinked, his face reddening a little more. He folded his lips and nodded. It looked like he had wondered for a moment if he should hand over such power, only to decide that fighting back was futile. Clever boy.

I got out of the bed, ignoring my furious erection, and strolled out of the room. “I’ll know if you play with yourself,” I said over my shoulder as I went out, glancing once at Easton to find his chest rising and falling quickly, his self-control stretched to the breaking point.

My underwear was in the living room, and I found it on the coffee table where I had tossed it after Easton had dropped it from his mouth. After putting the boxer briefs on, I went to the kitchen, searched the cabinets and the fridge, and figured I had all I needed for some french toast and coffee.

As I whipped up the eggs and seasoned them correctly, I put the pan to heat up and sipped coffee from the cup. I lit a cigarette and inhaled a few blessed puffs of smoke, feeling the nicotine run through my veins.

Easton stomped through the living room and joined me in the kitchen a moment later. “You can’t just do that,” he said, red-faced with the heat in the apartment and the lingering fire I had set alight inside of him. His hair was matted with sweat, and his underwear was tight with a hard-on.

“Do what?” I played innocent.

“You know what,” he huffed, looking at me wide-eyed. “You made me horny and left.”

I shrugged and turned away from him like it was nothing. “Better get used to it.”

“What? Hell no.” Easton crossed the short space between us.

“Are you gonna demand I jerk you off?” I asked, incredulous. I inhaled another puff of smoke and held it in my lungs as I turned back to him. My free hand hovered over the oil in the pan, feeling the rising heat. “You’re gonna stay hard all day, baby boy,” I told him softly. “And you’re only gonna come when I say so.”

Easton bit his lip furiously, eyes narrowing. “What’s stopping me from just dealing with it when you’re not looking?”

“Nothing,” I said, looking into his eyes with a dare forming between us. Which one was more stubborn? “It’s what a coward would do.”

He snorted. “What? The first to blink is gay? Is that your tactic?”

“Darling Easton,” I said, shaking the cigarette into the sink, the ash giving off a little ts as it landed onto a few drops of water. “Remember that the only reason I have any power here is because you gave it to me.” It was perhaps the opposite of what I should have said, but I believed it would resonate with Easton. I stepped closer to him and put a hand on his waist. “I can’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do. But I can reward you if you obey me.”

Easton looked pained, tortured by the truth in my words. “Fuck,” he said, strangled. “You better make it good.”

I winked. “Never doubt me.”

“Is there coffee?” he asked, his voice no less stressed as he did his best to ignore the flames within and let them die down on their own. It took an incredible amount of self-control on my part because the thing I wanted to do the most was rip those little boxer briefs off his waist and have him on the kitchen counter. I couldn’t imagine how he felt then.

He passed by me, poured himself a mug full of coffee, and then hurriedly slurped it.

I put my hand over the oil again and decided it was hot enough. I set my cigarette on the edge of the kitchen counter.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” Easton said as I dipped a slice of bread into the egg.

“Afraid I’ll set the place on fire?” I asked, looking him dead in the eyes.

Easton choked, a pout forming on his lips, and looked away. “Don’t.”

I said nothing else. Some things we couldn’t face, apparently. Some things needed to be left unmentioned. And it drove a sharp blade right through my chest that we couldn’t speak of it. He was right about one thing: I lived in the past too much for my own good. The fire, the punishment, the end of all things I had known, and the start of a terrible life. I was like steel in all that, tampered and forged, birthed in the flames that threatened to bring the entire house down and tossed back into the cold, heartless adoption system with that stain on my face and my record. Nobody pressed any charges because all that mattered was that the Harpers were finally free of me.

But I could see it had been a traumatic thing. Some people never got over a thing like that, so they ignored it. They pretended it had never happened. My name was never again spoken in their home.

I cleared my throat and found the strength somewhere in the pit of my stomach. “I’m sorry, Easton.”

If my provocative words had surprised him, my apology stunned Easton. He looked at me at a loss for the words, then nodded. He hid his mouth with the mug of coffee and drank while I made us breakfast.

I wanted him despite all the grudges between us. I wanted him despite the fact that he had been allowed piano lessons, and I had been told never to touch it because I was careless and would break it. I wanted him because it wasn’t his fault.

For all the terrible feelings I had carried all my life, I couldn’t truly blame him. And when the sliver of envy exploded to life in me, I reasoned it away. When jealousy or hatred or that tricky thing called regret came to me, I forced them all away. Because I knew I couldn’t pin it all on him.

For almost all of it, I had been the maker of my fate. Easton had just been the trigger.

We ate in relative silence. It wasn’t unpleasant, and Easton complimented the french toast quite a few times. “I still don’t know how you learned to cook so well.”

“I figured I couldn’t eat instant noodles three times a day,” I explained.

After we ate, Easton thanked me for the food, then cleared the plates. He walked around the apartment, then looked at me. “I should hit the gym,” he said. “The guys are gonna wonder where I am.”

The first word that came to my lips was “Stay,” but I swallowed it. “Good. I’ll get busy, too.” I hopped to my feet and moved toward my bedroom, just about to pass by Easton.

He extended his arm and stopped me when he placed his hand on my bare chest. “Kiss me, Jace.”

My ears perked up, and I looked at him.

“I want to know…that you’ll want me when I return,” he said. It was clear that it took effort to get those clear, precise words over his lips.

I nodded. “You shouldn’t doubt something like that, Easton.” But I did as he asked. If he wanted to be convinced, I was more than happy to do the most thorough job I could.

The kiss was a slow and deep one, letting our souls meet and mingle, the very essence of our beings merging into one as our lips parted and our tongues touched. Easton held on to my waist, his body pressing hard against mine. Letting him go, even for a few hours, felt like sacrificing something important. As if we only had so much time allotted to us that doing anything by enjoying him felt like a crime.

But I pulled away before I could become needy, and Easton wore a little smile as he went into his room to get ready.

Did we live on borrowed time? I suspected that we did. I feared that we did. But I feared more than anything the fact that my feelings for him had never inched away from pure obsession.