Page 56 of Hard Check
Leo stared at the water. If he opened his mouth, he would say something that would ruin this, and he would rather stand silent for the rest of the afternoon than risk Dawson letting go.
Dawson’s thumb moved against his knuckles. Once. Slow.
When they started walking again, Dawson kept his hand. Three blocks. Four. Past a bookstore, a coffee shop, and a woman walking a dog that strained toward them. Dawson stepped around the dog without letting go.This is what it could be like.Every day. Ordinary. The version of them that existed where Dawson’s truck wasn’t recognizable from a quarter mile away.
He squeezed Dawson’s hand once and kept walking, letting the moment stay quiet between them rather than pushing it into words.
They made it back to the car as the sun set. Dawson’s hand landed on Leo’s thigh before they’d left the city, and it stayed there the whole drive north. Neither of them talked. The highway signs counted down the miles, and at some point, Dawson’s hand tightened on Leo’s leg, just once, like he knew what was coming too.
Leo pulled into his lot and killed the engine.
“Do you want to come up?”
Dawson opened his door and got out without hesitation, and Leo tracked that too. No pause, no scan of the lot, no checking thewindows of the apartments above. Just Dawson following him up the stairs.
The apartment was warm. The lamp by the bookshelf had kicked on while they were gone, and the living room glowed in a way that made the place look like somewhere a person actually lived.
“You hung something,” Dawson said, looking at the print above the bookshelf.
“Figured I might as well make the place mine if I’m going to be here a while.” The words came out easy, like he’d already decided. He hadn’t. Or maybe he had, and this was the first time he’d said it aloud.
Dawson kicked his boots off at the door and hung his jacket on the hook. He leaned against the counter, arms crossed, shirt stretched across his chest, sleeves pushed to the elbows, and Leo was done pretending he wasn’t looking.
Leo crossed the kitchen and kissed him. Dawson’s hand came up to the back of Leo’s neck and pulled him in, and he kissed Leo back unhurried, thorough, like they had all night and intended to use it.
Leo pulled back enough to see Dawson’s face. “Today was nice.”
“Yeah.”
“I almost didn’t want to come back here.” Leo wondered if Dawson understood what Leo wasn’t saying. He’d promised he wouldn’t push Dawson to come out or anything, but it was getting hard to pretend he wasn’t head-over-heels when they saw one another around town. Acting like a real couple for a change was a heady experience Leo hadn’t wanted to end.
Dawson’s grip tightened on his neck. “Neither did I.”
Leo kissed him again. Harder. Dawson’s hands pushed Leo’s jacket off his shoulders, and it hit the floor. Leo got both hands on Dawson’s chest and walked him backward out of the kitchen, past the table, toward the couch. Dawson sat and pulled Leo down into his lap, and Leo went.
Leo pushed Dawson’s shirt up, and Dawson pulled it the rest of the way off. The view of his broad shoulders, thick through the chest, dark hair tapering down his stomach would never get old. Leo’s hands followed his eyes. Down Dawson’s sternum, across his ribs, the line of dark hair below his navel. Dawson’s stomach tensed under his fingers and his breath came out slow, and Leo felt the control it was costing him to hold still.
“Your turn,” Dawson said.
Leo pulled his shirt off. Dawson’s hands went to his ribs, his waist, up the center of his chest. Rough palms, every callus sharp against Leo’s skin. Dawson’s eyes followed his hands, taking his time, and Leo held still and let himself be studied because Dawson touching him like this, careful and thorough and mapping, was worth the patience.
“Jesus, Leo.” Dawson’s voice had dropped, rough and low, and his hands had stopped moving. He was staring at Leo’s chest, his stomach, the line of his hips above his waistband, and the naked want on his face made Leo’s pulse hammer.
“You can touch me.”
Dawson’s hands were on him before the sentence was finished. Leo’s hips dropped against Dawson’s, and they both went still, foreheads together, breathing hard.
“This okay?” Leo asked.
“Don’t stop.”
Leo rolled his hips. Dawson’s grip tightened on his waist, his head tipped back against the couch, and the sound he made, low and unguarded and surprised, cracked something open in Leo that he wasn’t getting back.
Leo’s fingers found Dawson’s belt. Got it open. Dawson sucked in a breath when Leo’s knuckles brushed below his navel, and his hips jerked up before he could stop them. Leo wrapped a hand around Dawson’s cock, and Dawson’s eyes went half-shut, jaw slack, a sound pulling out of his throat that Leo wanted to chase with his mouth.
Dawson reached for him. Got Leo’s belt open with hands that knew what they were doing, shoved his waistband down, and wrapped his hand around Leo’s shaft. Leo’s hips bucked, and a groan tore out of him that he didn’t recognize as his own voice.
“Look at me,” Dawson said.
