Page 136 of Last First Kiss

All the things that kept him up until dawn.

He’s careful to leave out that the nightmares have returned. That, some nights, his eyes don’t close until deep into the hollow hours. Sometimes, not at all. That the only moments those images can’t haunt him are in ones like this.

After being around Jamie.

When Jordan’s finished talking, Jamie’s right there. Face-to-face. A breath apart. His fingers light against Jordan’s cheek. His smile as naked as their bodies.

He whispers, “I won’t leave you.”

Jordan snorts to stop his heart from bursting through his chest. “Shut up. It was just a nightmare.”

Jamie holds his gaze. “Jordan, I won’t leave you,” he repeats, louder, genuine. “I won’t.”

An achy breath moves through Jordan. Fast, pointed, echoing. But his heart settles.

He grins, wide and unexpected. “Is that a challenge, Jamie Peters?”

The corners of Jamie’s lips sharpen into a smirk. “You’re such a competitive shit.”

Jordan’s rebuttal is softened by a kiss.

“It’s my turn again,” Jamie says against his mouth.

“Okay. Tell me something.”

“No one knows this but you.” His voice is serious, his stare intense. “Only you.”

Jordan swallows. “Knows what?”

Faint blush creeps into Jamie’s cheeks. “I’m hard again.”

-15-?Have the Final Tasting with the Caterer

“You’re… hard… again?”

Three words Jordan never expected to say out loud. A question he never expected to ask another man. But here he is, lying in Jamie Peters’s bed.

Nakedin Jamie Peters’s bed.

Nakedwith Jamiein his bed, blinking at him. Surprised but also a little excited.

“Yes,” Jamie finally replies. He shifts until the full length of his hardness is pressed to Jordan’s stomach.

Jordan bites the inside of his cheek.

Quickly, Jamie says, “We don’t have to do anything!”

“But what if”—Jordan tucks locks of damp hair behind Jamie’s ear—“hypothetically, we did?”

“Well,” Jamie says, catching Jordan’s hand, “then, hypothetically… I want you to fuck me. But not, like, hypothetical at all.” He kisses each fingertip. “I want you to fuck me, Jordan.”

Jordan’s breath leaves his body on one single “Wow.”

“If you don’t want to—”

“No,” Jordan blurts, “I’m game. If you are.”

Jamie’s answer comes in a nod. In his mouth tracing down Jordan’s palm. Across the inside of his wrist. In a “yes” and a “please” and a “why aren’t we already?”