Looking for Trouble(35)

“I was lying. There were no guys. I didn’t go out,” he said, his voice shaky. “I couldn’t. We got ready, and I just… I didn’t want to go look for guys because I wanted you. Even if it’s just once.”

Clay tugged him again, until his groin was against Dylan’s stomach. He was hard beneath his sweats, Dylan’s own cock plumping as he thought about getting on his knees for Clay.

God, he wanted him so much, more than he’d ever wanted anyone in his life, and he didn’t know why. It just felt right, the connection between them.

“I don’t know how to do this.” Clay kept one hand on Dylan’s hip and raised the other, slid it around the back of Dylan’s neck. Clay’s brows furrowed, and Dylan wanted to kiss the wrinkles out, wanted to ease his worried mind.

“I think you do. In fact, I remember when we almost did this before, and you definitely knew what you were doing.”

They weren’t talking about sex. He realized they both must know that, but still, they grinned.

“I knew you were trouble the first time I laid eyes on you.” Clay bent, and Dylan’s breath caught because he thought Clay was going to kiss him, but instead, he pressed their foreheads together. “You make me want to go looking for trouble for the first time in my life,” Clay whispered.

Dylan touched his pecs, rubbed his fingers through Clay’s chest hair, and moaned. “God, I love the way you feel.” He savored the friction of coarse hair against his soft hands. “I don’t expect anything from you…just once. We deserve that, don’t we?” Vulnerability danced on his words, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He just wanted this…wanted Clay.

“I…”

“Get into trouble, Clay.”

His eyes sparked in that way that warmed Dylan’s chest. “You’re trouble…”

“I know.” Obviously, Dylan wanted Clay inside him—to get into trouble.

Clay’s jaw tightened, and Dylan practically saw his reservation snap. Clay’s strong, calloused hands grabbed his shirt and ripped it open, buttons flying every which way. “I’ve always wanted to do that.” He grinned.

“I’ve always wanted to have that done to me,” Dylan replied, even though it meant he’d now owe Troy a shirt. He loved seeing Clay like this, seeing him let go. “Guess that means you kind of want me, huh?”

Clay sobered, looked down at him, pain and desire blending a powerful cocktail in his gaze. “It’s eating me alive how much I want you.”

They clashed together, magnets drawn to each other by a force they couldn’t stop. Clay pushed Dylan’s shirt down his arms and to the floor just as Dylan jumped into his arms. Dylan’s legs went around his waist, his arms around Clay’s shoulders, and he moaned at the press of Clay’s strong fingers grabbing his ass.

Their teeth clanked together as their mouths kissed messily. They couldn’t hold back any longer, the pull too powerful. It was as if they couldn’t kiss fast enough, couldn’t touch fast enough. Dylan tasted the slight tinge of coffee in Clay’s mouth—he never drank coffee at night, which meant he’d wanted to stay awake for Dylan.

“Do you have condoms?” Clay asked as he kissed his way down Dylan’s neck, bit into it, sucked the skin between his lips. He bruised easily, and there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he’d have a hickey there in the morning. He liked the thought of that, of his skin being marked by Clay.

“Yes. My bedroom.” He tightened his hands in Clay’s hair, pushing himself closer, hoping Clay would suck him harder.

“You didn’t take any with you to the bar? What if—”

“Now isn’t the time, Sad Eyes.”

Clay chuckled, warm breath against his skin. “I’m tryin’ to let loose, Trouble.”

“You’re doing just fine.” Dylan kissed him again, nibbled his lip as Clay carried him toward his bedroom.

They stumbled into the wall but kept laughing and kissing. It wasn’t easy to get Dylan’s bedroom door open, but they managed to do so without Clay setting him down or their kisses stopping.

The second they were inside, Dylan pushed himself out of Clay’s arms, and reveled in the deep growl that reverberated from Clay’s chest, as though he didn’t want to let Dylan go.

Dylan didn’t want to be let go either, at least not completely, and he knew, without a doubt, it would become a problem.

Later. He’d let himself deal with that later. Right now he just wanted Clay.





CHAPTER TWENTY




Clay


Clay trembled as Trouble lowered to his knees. He looked so right down there, so sweet and sexy, like he was both naughty and nice.

“I want to taste you first. I’ve been wanting to know what you taste like since that first night in the bar.”

Goddamned if his knees didn’t nearly go weak. The boy went straight to his head, affected him in ways Clay hadn’t anticipated—not from anyone and certainly not from Mike’s son—no! He shut those thoughts down. He wasn’t going to ruin this. He wanted it, wanted Dylan so very badly. After everything he’d been through, didn’t he deserve this?

No, he didn’t. That truth was one he couldn’t deny, but still he was asshole enough to take it.