Heat Stroke (Beach Kingdom, #2)(16)

“Next time, remember, your keys are the only ones with a GNC discount tag and a Rick and Morty keychain.”

“I was wondering when I switched those for a rabbit’s foot.” Let him go. Let him walk out. Don’t open your mouth again. “That’s the only reason you came over?”

“No.” Jamie took a step closer to Marcus and it felt so good to have Jamie in his orbit, he stumbled back a step, his ass coming up against the entry table. “I came over here because I was wondering if you cut me off because—”

“Don’t say I cut you off, Jamie,” Marcus interrupted miserably.

Jamie kept going. “I was wondering if it was because you weren’t attracted to me anymore and had no use for me. Or if you were still attracted and that’s the problem.”

All right. So they weren’t pretending anymore. That scared the hell out of Marcus, not having that safety net of denial, but it was almost five o’clock in the morning and they might as well have been the last two people on earth. Lying or hiding seemed pointless. Especially when he’d missed more than the way Jamie made his body feel. He’d missed his friend. Keeping the truth buried from his friend wasn’t an option. “Well go ahead. Aren’t you going to ask why I stayed away?”

“No, Marcus. I’m not.” Jamie closed his eyes and laughed without humor. “Marcus, you have enough wood to fill a national fucking park. Safe to say you’re still attracted to me.”

Marcus looked down to find the front of his sweats tented to hell. He was so hard, the tip of his cock was standing straight out from his body, almost brushing against Jamie. And Marcus couldn’t control the embarrassment. Talking about his attraction to another man was enough for one night. The physical proof was too much. Too exposing.

He could feel his ears turning red as he tried to push down his cock with the heel of his hand. Not helping. Nothing was helping, his flesh continuing to rise back up, thick and pulsing.

It was difficult to meet Jamie’s eyes, and when Marcus finally managed to do it, he caught the tail end of Jamie’s hurt, before it vanished. “This is why I’ve been trying to stay away from you,” Marcus rasped. “Hurting you is the worst thing I can think of. And I don’t…I don’t want to deal with this. It’s not who I thought I was. Or who my family and friends think I am.

“Before the train, I could…pretend I just wanted to be around you because I fucking like you. As a friend. And I do. That’s one of the reasons I’ve been depressed and…” Marcus pressed his thumbs into his eye sockets. “You knew this would happen. It’s why you told me to leave you the hell alone ages ago and I should have listened. I’m listening now.”

“Only I don’t want to be left alone as much as I thought I did, do I?”

Marcus’s lungs emptied, his thumbs dropping away from his eyes. Had Jamie missed him? No. No, it couldn’t be.

Jamie cleared his throat hard and stepped past Marcus, ready to walk out the door. “I have to go—” They both ceased all motion when Marcus’s hand shot out and wrapped around Jamie’s elbow. “What are you doing, Diesel?”

“I don’t know.”

A frustrated sound left Jamie. A moment ticked by where they just stared at each other, Marcus’s chest huffing up and down like a locomotive, the boner in his pants vibrating like a tuning fork, begging for the surrounding pressure of a fist, friction, anything. Marcus could see how torn Jamie was. Maybe he was even a little pissed off and Marcus couldn’t blame him. He was a mess. A total fucking mess that really didn’t want Jamie to leave, even though he’d just said out loud he didn’t want to deal with his attraction.

A change came over Jamie, his manner going from frustrated to almost taunting. He faced Marcus fully and ran his tongue along the inside of his bottom lip. “Caught you in the middle of something, didn’t I?” His eyes ticked past Marcus toward the coffee table. “How is that porn working out for you?

“Not good.”

The admission was barely out of his mouth when Jamie fisted Marcus’s T-shirt in his hand and walked him backward toward the couch. They maintained eye contact the whole way, and Marcus was so wrapped up in it, he had no idea where he was until Jamie shoved him hard into a seated position on the couch. Jamie reached back and snicked the laptop closed before slowly drawing off his own T-shirt, giving Marcus long, breathless seconds to watch the lithe flex of tight ridges play out on his stomach, the roll of muscle just above the low-riding waistband of his jeans.

Before Marcus could speculate on what came next, Jamie’s knees dug into the couch on either side of Marcus’s thighs. He picked up Marcus’s hand laid it flat on the center of his chest, before dragging it down, down, over his hot skin, the black, curling hair in the valley of his pecs, the hard stomach beneath. “You want me to stay? You’re damn well going to tell me why.” Leaving Marcus’s hand resting on his denim waistband, Jamie leaned in and breathed coffee and whiskey against Marcus’s mouth. Once, twice. Shaky. “Do you want my tongue to touch yours? Play with it a little?”

Jesus, he almost came in his sweats. Hearing those words out of Jamie’s mouth, feeling Jamie’s breath, their skin pressing together. It was sensory overload. His dick hurt like it hadn’t in…ever. Minutes before Jamie walked in—and most of the week—he’d been trying his best to get aroused to straight porn, but he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t get off anymore without thinking of Jamie and now he was there, giving Marcus no choice but to let go. Let his body get what it needed.