Page 209 of Eight of Swords, Part Two

‘Hi.’ Kade bites the centre of his lower lip, curling fingers into Lachlan’s hair where it hangs loose around his face. ‘Can I kiss you?’

‘You can do whatever you want.’

Kade slides an arm around Lachlan’s neck.

‘I need you to want it too. I like hearing it.’

‘I always do.’

‘Promise?’

Lachlan kisses him first this time, like he’s proving it. ‘I promise.’

A shaky exhale slips free as Kade kisses him back, lets himself melt against the older man. ‘Never felt anything like that before.’

‘You liked it?’

‘I came all over myself, Bodyguard. Obviously I liked it.’

Lachlan grins against his lips, bending to pick him up under the thighs like he weighs nothing, like he’s not the taller one. ‘Brat.’

‘Promise you won’t get weird and feel guilty about this?’

‘I promise if I feel guilty, I’ll talk to you about it before getting weird.’

Kade captures his mouth again. Lachlan’s lips are softer than they look, yielding for a fraction of a second before pressing back.

The smallest change of angle transforms everything.

Their noses brush.

Breath spills hot across Kade’s cheek.

Lachlan turns them in a circle as if slow dancing.

The kiss deepens, wet heat and shared breath, the velvet stroke of a tongue meeting his. Lachlan makes little sounds from somewhere deep inside, and each one tells tales of how it feels, how he feels in the moment.

It seems astonishing that people do this; abstractly weird and yet entirely wonderful, it makes Kade feel so alive, so wanted, desired, needed and loved. He feels like he’s tasting rain on his tongue after months of dry skies. Who knew desire could be so sweet, so bright, a current gathering beneath his skin with nowhere to go but deeper within, burrowing into his heart to make a summer storm. Wrapped up in each other, making walls of their backs, the outside world dims and fades.

Kade doesn’t want to leave.

He doesn’t want to have to talk through all the crazy shit he said with Lachlan’s body bearing down on his, friction burning between them through layers of clothing. He wouldn’t know where to start.

His heart strains for freedom the way a bird pulls on a tether; better to be broken and free than whole and caged. It beats like wings, like waves, waves he’s never seen because he’s never seen the ocean.

‘Can I…?’ he whispers, voice hoarse.

‘Ask, baby. I love when you ask.’

‘I wanna say something… um, a little crazy without you stopping to ask if it’s real. Is that… do you think I could… do that?’

The older man steals a kiss, walks him into the wall.

He presses Kade into it, holding his weight.

‘Say whatever you want.’

‘Are you sure?’