Page 7 of Siren in Love (In Love #1)

Mike

N ew Elvenswood’s residents generally divided the town into two major areas. The first was spread out on the hills to the northeast, and therefore known as Hillside, the Hills, or Upside, and next to it was the southwest, the Valley.

Corvin lived in the Valley. They got there just after nine; early in the evening. I wish we weren’t here yet, Mike thought as the car stopped. Corvin’s hand was still in his and, exhausted as he was, Corvin was leaning against Mike, his head on Mike’s shoulder. In Mike’s book, that was bliss.

Mike got out of the car with Corvin, and Corvin didn’t complain. Making sure Corvin got home okay was something Mike wanted, no, needed to do. I’ll just make sure he’s resting. And that he has everything he needs. And that he knows when to take his pills.

“You’re still here, huh,” Corvin said as they walked toward his apartment building. It was older, with oval windows in what Mike thought was the stairwell, likely tall ceilings inside, and a large willow tree out front.

“I’m still here. Is that… That’s okay, right?”

Corvin fished his keys from his inside pocket. “I guess. I mean, yes. It’s okay.”

“Good.”

Corvin let them into the echoey hallway. As a child, Mike would’ve whistled or hummed to enjoy the sound bouncing off the walls, but these days, he’d mostly embraced the gravitas of age, meaning he just let out one long, admiring whistle.

“Nice place.”

“Thanks. No elevator though.” Corvin pointed at the stairs. “And I’m on the top floor.”

“Need to lean on me?”

Corvin snorted. “You wish.”

“Yup, I do.”

Corvin, one hand on the banister, looked at Mike with eyes that seemed to say, so do I . At least, that was Mike’s hope. He followed Corvin skyward, one step after another.

“So this is me,” Corvin said as he walked into his place, leaving the door open in unspoken invitation. Mike followed, taking in the apartment, which became visible to him in degrees as Corvin switched on the lights.

The studio’s white walls were broken up by dark brown timber, giving away the age of the building, which had been clearly updated not too long ago.

The kitchen was to the left of the entrance, separated from a round table by a breakfast counter.

The table was half covered in books. Books, in fact, dominated the place.

Bookshelves bordered the small couch and low coffee table behind the dining table, and behind that, a larger bookshelf half hid an unmade bed.

Against the opposite wall sat a small desk, neat in a way Mike could appreciate and framed by two more bookshelves. At the far end, a door led to what Mike assumed was the bathroom. Hmm. Does he have shelves in there as well? No, probably not. The humidity can’t be good for the paper.

“You read a lot,” Mike said.

Corvin snorted. “I’m a librarian, Mike, so guilty as charged. Would you like anything to drink? I definitely still have some tequila I stole from the last holiday party.”

Corvin looked at Mike. A shyness he hadn’t shown before had crept into his posture and his voice, but beyond that shyness, Mike still heard something like a half-formed, unvoiced plea. Only thing is, I’m not sure what he’s asking. I don’t know what this gorgeous man wants from me.

Mike walked toward Corvin slowly, placing his hands on Corvin’s hips. “Did you just admit to committing a crime, Corvin?” Mike let his own desire seep into the words, hoping Corvin could hear it.

“I thought you were my lawyer. You’re bound by confidentiality, aren’t you?” Corvin looked up at Mike, his cheeks rosy, before he let his head drop and his eyes fall shut. His dark lashes were striking, like perfect inky brush strokes.

“Normally, I’d have to report a crime. But I’ll lie for you.”

Corvin swayed and shivered, and Mike couldn’t help but tighten his grip on Corvin’s hips.

He breathed out a sigh, and Mike heard the want in it.

A moment later, Corvin shuffled forward, resting his head against Mike’s chest, allowing Mike to savor the feeling of it.

Mike could see the bandage secured by Corvin’s own hair, and he carefully ran his finger down Corvin’s neck, the soft skin there too tempting to resist.

“We could fuck,” Corvin said.

Mike’s cock twitched at the casual suggestion, and oh sweet gods, did he ever want the human. He wanted to hold him close, sing him first to ecstasy, then to sleep.

But I can’t just do that, not like this.

“You’ve been given a heavy dose of pain medication, and that was after a smack to the back of your head.

Wouldn’t you rather just get some rest? I don’t want you to do anything you don’t really want to do, is all.

” Mike said the words, knew he had to. Still, tingling warmth coursed through him.

He wanted Corvin, but he wanted all of him, not just a single night.

Corvin pulled back far enough to look up at Mike. “Do I get a good night kiss, at least?”

The plea in his voice was a tangible thing. Mike couldn’t not give Corvin what he’d asked for. Bending forward, one hand on Corvin’s neck, Mike moved in, touching his lips to Corvin’s.

He feels cool. Need to warm him up. He tastes like string song, like the vibrato coaxed from a newly strung violin . Mike began to hum. He couldn’t help it.

He let the kiss grow slowly like an adagio, waiting for Corvin to part his lips in invitation before he dared explore.

He used his tongue to tease Corvin’s bottom lip, and when his mouth fell open, Mike hummed out a low song of need and desire, of having found treasure beneath the waves.

He reeled Corvin in, savoring the softness, the way Corvin opened to him an echo of Mike’s own want.

The evidence of Corvin’s arousal came into Mike’s awareness like a second melody flooding in, drawing out the crescendo the kiss had turned into. Corvin rubbed his hips against Mike and moaned into his mouth. Mike’s own cock was straining in his pants when he pulled back, coming up for air.

When he looked up at Mike, Corvin’s green eyes had gone dark—an overcast horizon just before a storm. “Don’t stop. Take me to bed. I want this.” He craned his head up, trying to get to Mike’s mouth again, but Mike cupped Corvin’s cheek to hold him at bay.

“One condition.” Mike heard the desperate strain in his own voice. But I won’t do this, not unless he wants to keep me. “I get to make you breakfast.”

Corvin blinked rapidly, perplexed, then grinned. “Fine. If that’s what it takes to get you to make me feel good, I’ll bear it.”

Mike let another heartbeat pass to make sure he really took the moment in, so he would remember all of it later.

Then, he dipped his head toward Corvin’s and kissed him deeply, sighing and humming out his pleasure as the other man went pliant in his arms. He would’ve liked to bury his fingers in Corvin’s hair, but he contented himself with letting them travel under his T-shirt instead, over the warm skin underneath.

“Let me help you out of this.” Mike pulled the shirt over Corvin’s head, careful not to dislodge the bandage or cause him any pain.

Corvin without a shirt on was lovely, his chest bookish pale with a sprinkling of golden hair glistening in the light. Mike ran his fingers along that trail of gold, which seemed to kick Corvin into motion. He went for Mike’s pants, overeager.

He’s so damn cute. “Slow down. We have all night.”

“Want you now.” Corvin was chasing after Mike’s mouth again, but Mike pulled back, using the way the movement unbalanced Corvin to drag him closer to the bed. “Ugh, stop moving, Pineapple Mike. I said I want you. You taste good.”

Mike chuckled. “Like pineapples?”

“No. People don’t taste like pineapples.” Corvin’s brow furrowed thoughtfully. “Unless you rub pineapple all over them. Too bad I already ate the one you picked for me.”

It was Mike’s turn to lean toward Corvin and kiss him. “I’ll buy you another.”

Mike hugged him so close that Corvin was forced to abandon his attempt to get Mike out of his pants.

Not that Mike wasn’t going to drop them, but he didn’t want this over too quickly.

He wanted time and closeness with this man, and yes, if Corvin wanted to, he’d let him eat fruit off him.

Although, licking pineapple juice off him does sound like it could be fun.

Mike teased and lured Corvin with his mouth. In turn, Corvin let out a frustrated growl, nipping Mike’s lower lip. That only made Mike smile while he carefully navigated around a small pile of books on the floor.

When they were finally at the bed, the tangled sheets there made Mike look forward to tangling them some more. He liked making his bed in the mornings, but he didn’t at all mind that Corvin didn’t.

As if following steps in a dance, Mike moved back so he could get his own tee off.

It had an immediate effect. Corvin’s gaze dropped to his chest and he licked his lips.

Mike, in all his time of mostly dating supernaturals, had never been looked at this way—with simple lust that easily stood on its own.

It was, to say the least, a balm for his ego. “You like?”

Corvin tore his gaze away, but only for a moment. “Yup. Definitely not a pity date.”

Corvin went for Mike’s pants again. This time, Mike let him, helped even, by toeing off his shoes and shoving them aside. Mike was ready to pull Corvin into bed with him, but Corvin wasn’t trying to undress Mike.

The moment he had Mike’s cock free, he closed his fingers around the shaft, met Mike’s eyes, and slowly, deliberately, sank to his knees.

With a cute, lopsided grin on his face, he said, “I like giving head.”