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Lake hummed, pretending to think about it. “You’re forgiven.”
“So easily?”
“You being wrong gives me unrivaled pleasure.”
Knight snorted, and his laugh rumbled through Lake.
“Besides,” Lake hauled in a deep breath and let it out. “What I did was way worse. I shouldn’t have gotten involved. Should never have meddled in their love lives. You warned me, and I didn’t listen, and I’m so embarrassed.”
Heat burned his cheeks.
Knight untangled their fingers, skin sliding off skin, and Lake immediately missed the warmth. Not that he deserved that comfort right now—
An arm wrapped around him and pressed against the small of his back. Lake instinctively folded against Knight, ducking his head under Knight’s chin, arms snuggled up against Knight’s silky-haired chest.
Knight rubbed his shoulder blades, down his sensitive flank, over the top of his ass and up again. It felt so good and safe.
Lake blurted against Knight’s clavicle, “I convinced Harry they had something. He wasn’t sure Philip really liked him, and I told him he totally did. I wanted him to crush on someone that wasn’t a direct relative . . . and I’m not even sure I’m right about that, either. I’m the crappiest friend.”
A consoling murmur tickled through his hair. Was that the press of lips against his head?
He nudged his leg between Knight’s until Knight gave in with a sigh that tickled Lake’s scalp and sandwiched his knee.
“I have to tell him tomorrow.” Lake never wanted tomorrow to come. “Could we just stay like this forever?”
“Unfortunately not.”
Lake started to roll back, but Knight tightened his embrace at his back, around his leg. Lake resettled against him, trying not to make his relief obvious.
“We can, however,” Knight said, “enjoy it for a while.”
Lake stared at his fingers, playing with the chest hair between Knight’s pecs. He had no idea when he’d started doing that. Had Knight noticed?
Should he stop?
He drew spirals over Knight’s chest. Lake liked the feeling too much to stop. “I promise, I’ll never matchmake again.”
Knight hummed non-committedly, like he didn’t quite believe it.
“I mean it. Taylor and Amy had to be a fluke. Love and me? We aren’t meant to be. My past relationships have been evidence enough.” Lake stifled a frustrated growl against Knight’s chest. “What is wrong with me?”
“Nothing is wrong with you.”
“But there is, because during this entire conversation wrapped in your arms, at the back of my mind, I’ve been wondering why I’m not a ten.”
Knight chuckled.
“Don’t laugh, it’s terrible. I thought I didn’t care about looks. Apparently, I do.”
“You’re human.”
“If I’m human, what are you? You’d never think something so selfish.”
Knight’s hand stopped roaming his back. “Shush, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You think selfish things? Like what?”
Knight’s lips definitely touched his forehead this time. “Like how glad I am you’re having this little meltdown in my arms.”
A bit gloating, a little mean-spirited maybe, but completely understandable.
Lake laughed at his own utter stupidity, which quickly morphed into a dismayed groan. “I have to work with Philip, but I don’t ever want to see him again. I guess that’s part of the lesson. Fuck it’ll be awkward. We’ll probably pretend like nothing happened, while we’re both agonizing over it. Philip feeling rejected, me feeling the full extent of my mistake and being saddened at how shallow he is, and I am. And—”
Lake cut himself off with a curse.
He yanked the blanket, wrapping it like a taco around them.
“And, what?” Knight asked.
“This is my cocoon. I’m not leaving until I emerge a butterfly. Which isn’t possible, so I’m gonna stay here the rest of my life, okay?”
“And, what?” Knight insisted, lips twitching into a smile.
“It’s not funny.”
“I beg to differ.”
Lake tweaked Knight’s nipple and in one swift move, he was on his back, Knight pressed on top of him—naked toes, meaty thighs, firm chest, semi-hard groin meshing against Lake’s.
The glint in Knight’s eye stole Lake’s breath.
Seeing Knight’s lips made his own tingle. The dark, his heightened emotion, and the lure of the forbidden slid tantalizing fingers around them, daring Lake to taste Knight again.
He breathed in sharply and lifted his eyes to Knight’s deeply curious ones. “And, what?”
It took effort to look away. Lake sagged into the mattress. Lust was the last thing he should be entertaining.
Regretfully, he pushed at Knight’s chest; Knight immediately rolled off him. A sad sound escaped Lake at the loss, and he covered it by clearing his throat. “And I have to tell Harry.”
Lake stirred, smacking his lips. He’d drooled over his silky pillow.
He shifted an inch and breathed in deeply, nuzzling all that hair.
His eyes pinged open.
Sunlight blinded him and he blinked, adjusting to the brightness. He was wrapped around Knight like an octopus, every limb, toe, elbow, and hair follicle suctioned onto him.
Slowly, he tilted his head up.
Knight had one arm behind his head, the other holding Moby Dick. His gaze swept along the lines of the book as if riveted.
