Page 116 of The Gaybor War

"Probably."

"There’s still time to save yourself, you know."

"From what?"

"Me." I gesture vaguely toward myself. "My shed of flamingos. The pizazz. My seasonal emotional instability."

His fingers lace through mine. "I think I’m past saving."

Shit. Me too. Way past saving.

Carter’s thumb drags slowly over my knuckles as if he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. The look on his face is softer than I’ve ever seen it. His guard is lowered, edges blurred. It makes my chest ache in a way I don’t entirely appreciate.

"So," I tease, because if I stop joking entirely I may actually combust, "hypothetically speaking… if we kissed right now, would that make this more or less complicated?"

His gaze drops immediately to my mouth, eyes hooded with want.

"Much more."

The answer draws out a lick of heat low in my stomach.

"Damn," I whisper. "That’s incredibly unfortunate."

But neither of us moves away. If anything, Carter moves closer.

The space between us keeps shrinking. The mattress shifts beneath us as he turns fully toward me, one hand sliding from mine to my waist, fingers spreading there as if he’s been thinking about touching me for a while now.

"You know, for someone who claims to tolerate me, you stare at me an awful lot."

His mouth curves faintly. "You like when I look."

"Well, that’s⁠—"

Whatever sarcastic comeback I’m about to make dies the second his hand tightens on my waist. Enough to make my breath catch. Enough to send heat spiraling straight through me.

His mouth crashes into mine hot and deep, and my entire body lights up instantly. I make a startled sound against his lips as his hand slides up my side, pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us at all.

Jesus Christ.

The kiss turns messy almost immediately—teeth catching, breath hitching, my fingers tangling in the front of his pirate shirt. Carter kisses like he does everything else: controlled right up until the moment he absolutely isn’t.

And God help me, that might be the hottest thing I’ve ever discovered.

He dips his head, mouth latching onto my exposed nipple. His warm wet lips suckle hard, making my dick leak. Fumbling one-handed with my fly while trying not to lose his mouth, I groan against the kiss.

"Okay—these have officially become a safety hazard."

Carter laughs softly against my lips, the sound rough and warm and entirely unfair.

"The leather pants?"

"The world’s most hostile garment." I finally manage to shove them down enough to breathe again. "Whoever invented these hated gay people specifically."

His hand slides over my hip, fingers dipping beneath the loosened waistband, and every coherent thought immediately abandons ship.

"Funny." His dark eyes drag over me. "You seemed very committed to them earlier."

"That was before blood flow became a memory."