Page 81 of The Fire

“Shit,” he muttered, all flustered and adorable as he bent down to retrieve it. I sat up, bracing myself on my hands to watch him. “I can do this. I have done this before. This is not a big deal.”

He found the lube and tossed it on the bed, then threw everything back in the drawer, slammed it shut, and turned toward me.

“Condom?” I suggested helpfully.

“Fuck.” He opened the drawer, more gently this time, and started moving shit around.

“Take your time,” I told him. “We’re not in any rush. And look. I can help.”

I sat up all the way, unbuttoning my jeans and opening my fly to give my erection some breathing room, then pushed my jeans and underwear off completely.

Parker stopped his frantic searching so he could stare at my cock, then my face, then my cock again. He swallowed, and his eyes came to mine. “You suck,” he informed me. “You sucksohard.”

“Sometimes,” I agreed. I wrapped a hand around my erection and his eyes dropped like they were guided by a homing beacon as I jacked myself slowly, more turned on by his gaze than by my own touch. “You having trouble there, Parks?”

“No,” Parker said, holding up a strip of condoms triumphantly. “I’ve got it.”

But he didn’t make a move to come back on the bed.

I grinned. “What are you waiting for? I’m getting older here.”

“Lie down,” he said softly.

“I’m lying—”

“Down. All the way.”

I frowned, still half-smiling, but complied. “I could kinda learn to get off on you being boss—Parker?”

He kissed my hip, right near my cock, but not nearly close enough. Then his lips wandered up my torso, kissing every freckle—and God knew I had plenty—along the way. It was the exact same thing I’d done to him earlier and I wondered if he knew what I’d been trying to convey with the gesture. I wondered if he was trying to convey the same thing.

“You are gorgeous,” he whispered between kisses. “And talented. And funny. And smart. And generous. And good.”

“Did it seem like I needed a pep talk?” I teased, when his lips hit my collar bone, but it came out like a whisper because I couldn’t hide how much his words meant.

“Maybe a little,” Parker agreed. “And maybe I just felt like it was something I wanted to say. Something you ought to know.”

He kissed my shoulder, my bicep, the scars from the operations that had made it so I could still use my arm, though never well enough for baseball again, and I swallowed against the lump in my throat. And it shouldn’t have beensexythat he was getting all sappy, but it was. I wanted his skin on my skin. I wanted him inside me. “Parker, I—”

“Turn over,” he said, like he could read my mind. And about this stuff, I was kinda convinced he could.

He arranged a pillow beneath my hips and straddled my legs from behind before running both hands over my ass, stroking the muscles there.

I took a sharp breath becauseholy fuck. It felt momentous and hot as sin and a little scary, the way the unknown is always scary. But I wanted it. No doubt about that. I wanted Parker to take me. Wanted to give this to him.

Parker’s hands stilled, and he grabbed the bottle of lube from somewhere near my elbow. I heard the cap crack open, felt the cool liquid slide between my legs, and heard Parker’s breath go ragged as he ran his finger over my hole… and that was when I realized I’d closed my eyes. Because there was nothing to see from this angle—everything I cared about was happening behind me, and I didn’t want to miss a single second of it.

And God, that was even worse thanmaking love.

I was turning this into something it wasn’t. A religious experience. A consummation. A promise, when that wasn’t—

“Oh fuck yes,” I groaned, as his finger pushed inside me slowly. It burned, yeah, but in the best possible way. The brand of ownership I’d been craving. “More.”

“We’re going slow,” Parker said. “Nice and slow.”

“I thought you hated being patient,” I insisted. “Give me another.”

“For you, Jamie?” Parker whispered. “It looks like I’ve got all kinds of patience.”