Page 134 of Checking Out the Librarian

Nothing soft now. Jonathan yanking his head down, Jonathan thrusting his tongue into Connor’s mouth and opening for Connor, Jonathan shaping himself to Connor, almost climbing him.

Lifting Jonathan, his senses full, his hands full, those short shorts gliding up until his hands filled with the warm, bare skin at the curve where Jonathan’s thighs became his ass.

One kiss. That was all it took for him, every time. One filthy kiss.

Their tongues twisted together in ways that Connor wanted to mimic with the rest of their bodies.

One kiss, and they were both hardening.

He lifted Jonathan and felt those limber thighs wrap his waist while he suckled the base of Jonathan’s neck just above the collar of that silly shirt that flipped up at the hem.

Shouldn’t have left the house. Then they would already be naked.

“Ah, fuck, we can’t.” Jonathan’s words, murmured somewhere near Connor’s head, were firm despite the quiet. “Too public.”

He shuddered. They couldn’t keep going, not here.

“Put me down.” Jonathan’s voice had the same aching need Connor felt.

He let Jonathan slide the length of his body. Through his nylon shorts, he could feel the rough denim fabric, the hard button at Jonathan’s waistband, then the roll of Jonathan’s T-shirt where it bunched as he lowered to the ground.

They broke apart, heaving like they’d been trail running, a thing which Connor had tried and hated and which Jonathan would also…

Actually, Connor didn’t know if Jonathan would like or hate trail running. His boyfriend—he was going to flog the fuck out of that word now—thrived on some painfully surprising shit like cycling. Maybe he would enjoy being a trail runner, like a hunting coyote in the dark, lean and low. Yeah, maybe.

If Jonathan was a shifter, then Jonathan could be his Alpha, he and Ribby and Pawsley would be Jonathan’s pack.

Standing this close on the trail, he thought he could see a pin-point reflection of himself in Jonathan’s eyes, really just his white T-shirt and no details, but he let himself fall into the dark pupils. The scent of pine needles was strong, and it was easy to let the sound of the river fill his mind.

His Alpha wanted him, always. All he had to do was drop to the ground, on his hands and knees, and his Alpha would cover him from behind.

His eyes fluttered closed and he saw Jonathan running in the woods, dark and shadowy like that night in Portland, but with longer hair, hair falling over his face so that all Connor saw was his body twisting in and out of shadows as he came to Connor in the woods.

He trembled and whimpered, waiting, but it was his Alpha coming, so it would be okay.

He could feel teeth. Scraping his neck. On his shoulder.

Oh, fuck. This was not helping with the stopping what they shouldn’t do here.

“Connor.” Jonathan had wrapped himself around Connor from behind, which felt so good. “I’m here.”

“Yeah.”

Jonathan stroked a hand up and down Connor’s sternum. It was nice. “Now that we have established that I like you, no, I super-duper like you, and we have that middle school talk out of the way, what’s really going on?”

Jonathan was shorter, so his head rested right between Connor’s shoulders, but his arms reached tightly around and crossed in the middle of Connor’s chest. It was calming, like how Connor imagined Ribby felt in his thunder shirt.

And not having to see Jonathan’s face further loosened the knot inside Connor’s chest.

“What was bothering you, when we started the hike.” Jonathan used his even, smooth voice, not the rising inflected one. This was the one that made Connor’s head feel heavier, like it wanted to fall forward. It made it easier to talk.

“The All-Star break started today.” He knew Jonathan wouldn’t understand that, because when they’d talked about their dating experiences, he hadn’t told him that there was a guy who showed up sometimes, then disappeared, let alone that the guy was the exact thing he knew made Jonathan most insecure, a jock.

Maybe he’d committed an error.

It hadn’t been lying, not precisely, because he and Tony had never dated, no matter what Connor had wanted or pretended. They’d played ball together and fooled around, off and on, nothing more.

For eight years.