Page 16 of Oz (Finding Home #1)

I hesitate and he grabs my hand, putting his own over the top of it.

He counts out the gears but my whole attention is on his hand.

The calloused palm and long, almost artistic-looking fingers spread over mine.

I look at the spray of freckles on the back of his hand like it’s hypnotizing me, and all I can think about is standing at that window fresh from coming and letting him see all of me in the moonlight.

I suddenly become aware that he’s stopped talking and the resulting silence is heavy. I can almost feel it on the air.

“Oz,” he says hoarsely.

I look up and I’m done for. He’s staring at me, his pupils big and dark and his expression wrecked, and without another word we fly at each other.

Teeth clash and lips bang together in our rush, but then we’re really kissing.

Kissing as if we’ve been doing it together all our lives.

Our tongues meet and lips suck and cling and we twist together as if synchronised, all our movements designed to get closer.

He eats at my mouth, giving choked groans, and I can hear my panting breaths loud in the silence. One of us moans and he raises his head.

“Oh my God,” he whispers, his mouth shining. His lips are gorgeous. Thin on the top and lush and pouty on the bottom. I reach up and send my tongue languorously over that full curve and he moans deep inside his throat.

“Yes,” he gasps and takes my mouth again.

This time it isn’t enough and I lunge at him. I need pressure and weight. Without taking my mouth away I reach and unclip my belt. The sound attracts his attention and he pulls away, looking blearily at me, his eyes half-mast and his lips spit-slick.

“Oz,” he says and I come up onto my knees and scramble across the handbrake, landing in his lap and quickly straddling him. “Oh fuck, yes,” he calls out. His big hands seize my hips and he pulls me further into him.

We both groan as our cocks meet hard and ready, and I start to writhe on him. All I can see is the sun beating a red haze behind my eyelids. Sweat runs down my back and I feel almost crazed with the need for more. More kissing, more touching.

“Fuck, I need more,” I gasp, pulling away from his mouth as he follows mine with his own almost drunkenly.

“Come back,” he whispers and, grabbing my arse cheeks, he pulls me forward so I rest all along his chest. I cant my hips and start a slow hard grind, crying out as I feel the denim of his jeans rubbing against my cock behind its layer of fabric.

“Yes, Silas. Yes,” I groan and push my hands into his hair, feeling the dark strands slip through my fingers like silk. I throw my head back and gasp as he nips and suckles at the tendon, sending fire and sparks through my blood.

“Don’t stop,” I mutter, pulling his face harder into my neck. “Right there. Oh God.”

“Yes,” he groans and I feel his fingers at the zipper of my jeans. “I need you now,” he says fiercely.

“Yes.” I lean up on my knees and start to unbutton his jeans as I sway faintly from the movement of the car.

I just have time to realise that the car shouldn’t be moving when there’s a bang and we come to a stop.

“What the fuck ?” I breathe.

Silas looks around dazedly. “Erm, I think you took the hand brake off when you crawled across,” he says slowly. “We’re in the Buddleia bush at the moment.”

For a long second, we stare at each other. Expressions pass too quickly over his face for me to analyse, but I see heated longing and warmth before he shutters them and then all I can see is caution.

I take his cue instantly. In films the retreat is always graceful and it fades to black.

That’s not possible with two men in a Volkswagen Polo, so instead, we treat ourselves to the full quiet and awkward rezipping and tucking back in along with the scrambling back over the gearbox that he has to help with a quick boost of my bum.

When I’m back in my seat I look at him. “I’m sorry,” I begin.

“So am I,” he says instantly and I flinch.

Wow! Regrets after twenty seconds. Must be a new world record.

He carries on talking. “I’m sorry you had a shitty time with your last boss.

That’s not the sort of man I am, but I don’t expect you to believe that given the way I’ve just behaved.

” He sighs. “I just want you to feel okay here. I don’t want you to feel like you have to leave, and I never want you to be put in a position where you feel you have to do something you don’t want to. ”

“This isn’t Upstairs Downstairs ,” I start to say but he shakes his head.

“Can we go back to normal, Oz?” He looks hard at me. “I really want that. I’ve grown to consider you a friend and I’d miss the us that we are now if you decided to leave.”

My heart melts because not many people want to keep the real me.

I’m too abrasive, too forceful, too flippant.

You name it, I’m too much of it. But this kind, clever man wants my friendship, and looking at the vast gulf between the two of us, maybe I should have this rather than trying for more, which would probably be ridiculous anyway.

Why would he settle for me of all people, when he could have anyone?

Someone clever and wealthy. Someone who could really bring something to help him in his life.

I make myself smile. “I’m not going anywhere, Silas.” I pause. “It was an eventful driving lesson anyway. I’m sure not many people end up in a Buddleia bush.” He looks slightly embarrassed and I can’t help my laugh. “Oh my God, you did. You’re terrible.”

He laughs and starts to tell me the story, but even while he’s talking our eyes are meeting and catching and neither of us mentions the sudden silences as he forgets his words.

Surely friendship will get easier.