Just a Bit Dirty (Straight Guys #10)(32)

Ian looked at the half-naked young man sleeping in his arms.

You could keep him as a lover. Wouldn’t it be more honest? Isn’t that what you really want? You want the boy to wait for you in your bed every evening, naked, warm, and just yours.

Ian’s stomach clenched at the thought, his cock twitching in his boxers.

Goddammit.

Ian breathed out through his gritted teeth, thinking fondly of a time he’d found the mere idea of sex with another man revolting. To be fair, he still couldn’t imagine having sex with any man but the one he currently held in his arms. Miles was Miles. He didn’t count. Ian wanted to possess him, put himself inside him no matter what hole he had to use for it; a mouth, a cunt, or an asshole—it didn’t matter. He wanted to fuck him. To take him. To coat his insides with his come and make him so full of it that it leaked down his thighs. He wanted to leave marks all over that smooth skin, bright and red bruises in the shape of his fingers and mouth. He wanted to tie him up. He wanted to press his forearm against Miles’s neck as he fucked him into the mattress. He knew Miles would look at him trustingly with his lovely green eyes even as Ian choked the life out of him.

Ian inhaled shakily, trying to will his arousal away. That was precisely why he couldn’t keep Miles around as a lover, either. Miles already trusted him too much. Miles was already half-infatuated. Ian couldn’t allow that infatuation to grow into something more serious. He didn’t want to destroy the boy’s spirit.

Because he would end up doing it. He always did. His relationships always crashed and burned for a reason.

“You’re a sickening mix of emotionally unavailable and suffocating,” Regina had once told him. “You want to control me and own me, but at the same time your desire is very superficial and selfish. You don’t actually care about anyone but yourself.”

For all Regina’s faults, Ian knew she hadn’t been entirely wrong about it. He wanted too much, but at the same time couldn’t commit himself. It wasn’t for lack of trying. He’d actually made a lot of effort with his wife—they both had, in the beginning—but it all ended the same way. Ian knew he wasn’t blameless for her cheating. His emotional distance and his controlling ways definitely played a role in their marriage falling apart. Not that it entirely excused her. She had been as much of a bitch as he’d been an asshole. In that regard, they had been well suited.

That was why he had to put an end to this before the thing between him and Miles turned into something poisonous. Miles deserved better. Miles was returning home in a month anyway. This, whatever this was, had no future. Miles was very inexperienced with relationships. Miles was too sweet and good for someone like Ian. They were a terrible fucking idea for so many reasons.

Then why does he feel so right in your arms?

“You’ll really get wrinkles if you keep frowning like this,” said a sleepy voice.

Ian’s gaze snapped to Miles’s face.

Green eyes were gazing softly at him as their owner snuggled up even closer to Ian, his leg tightening around Ian’s hips. Ian hissed, his cock pressing against Miles’s bare stomach through the thin fabric of his boxers.

“Morning,” Miles said, squirming against it. “Hi there,” he murmured with a widening smile.

Ian should have said, “We can’t do this anymore.”

“Did you sleep well?” he said instead.

Miles nodded, blinking sleepily. “Yeah. Thanks for letting me sleep with you.” He pulled a funny face, blushing a little. “I felt so clingy yesterday I would have probably cried if I woke up alone this morning.”

Christ, his absolute lack of coyness shouldn’t have been so endearing.

When you’re through with him, this openness will be gone, replaced by someone bitter, cynical, and heartbroken.

“What’s with that face?” Miles said, his smile fading.

Ian stared at him intently.

All traces of amusement vanished from Miles’s face now. Miles wet his lips, watching him as Ian propped himself on an elbow and leaned down to him. Ian could taste Miles’s desire to be kissed.

Ian didn’t kiss him. Kissing him would only make everything worse.

But he still couldn’t resist putting his hand over Miles’s pale neck, over one of the bruises at the base of his throat. “We shouldn’t have done this.”

“Why?” Miles murmured, his fingers burying in Ian’s hair as he stared blatantly at Ian’s mouth. “Are you having a gay freak-out?”

Stop looking at me this way, Christ.

Ian licked his own lips, looking between Miles’s dilated pupils and parted pink lips. The air between them was thick with terrible tension and longing, as if they hadn’t already shared multiple kisses and orgasms. It was as baffling as it was maddening. The more time he spent around this British boy, the more he wanted to consume him and mark him up instead of losing interest in him.

“No,” Ian said roughly and rolled off the bed before he could do something he would regret. He didn’t look at Miles as he went through his morning routine and started dressing. He could feel Miles’s gaze on him, but he didn’t look. Finally, Miles got up and went into the ensuite.

Ian breathed out.

He could hear the water running. He could hear Miles brushing his teeth.

Then silence.