Page 17 of Nicks and Cuts

When he lowered the towel, Shannon was off the bike and setting up the barbell. He glanced up and caught Dante staring at him in the mirror.

Shannon turned. “I feel like we are not so subtly creeping on each other?”

Dante gripped the towel like it was going to save his life. He needed to say something witty or funny, but he wasn’t used to company or flirting, and he forgot what words were.

“Just me? Okay. Awkward.” Shannon grimaced.

“It’s not just you.” Though Dante wished it was because then he’d have a reason to push back. He knew he should grab his drink bottle and leave, but he was unable to move.

Shannon picked up Dante’s water bottle and brought it over to him.

Dante took it from him. “Thanks.”

Shannon didn’t walk away.

Neither did Dante. Which only proved he was a fucking idiot both for standing there and not touching him and for not walking away.

“We can make a new rule,” Shannon said.

“What kind of rule?” He hoped the towel clutched in his hand was hiding what had to be a very obvious hard-on. He hoped that he didn’t sound too breathy and desperate and that it could be passed off as exhaustion from working hard.

“That what happens here stays here.”

There was no mistaking the intent behind that rule. It was the kind of rule that made sense. That gave them both what they wanted…at least temporarily because sooner rather than later, Shannon would leave and get his own place, while he’d be stranded, haunted by more memories.

Wasn’t it better to have made the memories in the first place, though?

Not only that, but he was already tormented by what had happened. Or was he tormented by what he wanted to happen, and the avoidance was worse than the fallout.

“In the gym?”

The corner of Shannon’s lips turned up. “Sure, if that’s how you want it.”

He didn’t know how he wanted it, only that he wanted. The more he learned about him, and the more he saw him, the more he needed. What would Shannon do if he reached out and grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him closer?

Probably melt into him and kiss him.

Fuck it. I’m going to have regrets either way. I might as well enjoy something.

He lifted his hand and let his fingertips trail over Shannon’s collarbone before tugging on his shirt. As expected, Shannon didn’t resist. He stepped in close, lips parting and eyes darkening.

Dante swallowed, fighting against the urge to surrender and be consumed by the very obvious hunger in Shannon’s eyes. He wasn’t ready to give in; that meant losing control, and without the rules that he’d made for himself, there was nothing to keep him safe.

Shannon’s lips brushed over his, tentatively as if he expected to be pushed away. How was it possible to want more and yet find the soft kiss too much? He kept hold of Shannon’s shirt and returned the kiss with equal caution. He was about to go upstairs and shower…and it would be easy for Shannon to come with him.

But his tongue was too busy to make those words. Shannon tasted like he’d just brushed his teeth. Had he rolled out of bed, thrown on some clothes and come downstairs?

Dante wasn’t sure who made the little groan or when Shannon had put his hand on Dante’s arm. He wanted to grab his hip and pull him closer, to grind against him and drag him down to the floor…

This was not where he wanted him.

This wasn’t a hook-up. If they did this, he didn’t know what it was. Yeah, he did. It was the thing he said he’d never do again. No fuck buddies where they were treading water until something better came along or they went back to their regular life.

He drew back, breathing like he’d just run a mile in full gear. “This isn’t going to work.”

Shannon licked his lower lip. “Okay?”

“Okay.” Dante took another step back. And then another. He turned and walked out of the garage without walking back, cursing himself both for leaving and for staying long enough to kiss him.