Page 60 of Exposing Colorado

He blows out a harsh breath, close enough for me to feel it against my cheek. “I’m not your uncle.”

“Do not play games with me right now.”

“Then what the fuck do you want?” he fumes, pushing me back hard enough to break my grip. “You want to hit me? Huh? Go ahead. You want to punish me for not saying it sooner? Fine. But don’t act like you’re the only one that's fucked up over this.”

I growl angrily. “You don't get to be the victim right now, Dev. You lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell the truth.”

“Oh, fuck off with that bullshit! You knew what this would do to me. You wanted me to hurt, to feel what you feel, and that's why you told me when you did.”

He flounders for words, but then closes his mouth. No denial.

So, I continue. “You let me sit in this shame. You let me hate myself for years.”

“I didn’t make you feel that way, Logan,” he responds, his voice like gravel. “That was all you.”

The fury inside of me finally implodes, and before I even know what I'm doing, I slam my mouth to his.

His breath stutters, and for one second, he doesn’t move. Just freezes under my assault. Then it's like a dam breaks. Grabbing my shirt to haul me closer, Devon’s tongue plunges down my throat.

The kiss is brutal—all teeth and anger and lies. He shoves me against the fridge, and I bite his lip—hard enough to taste blood. Magnets clatter to the ground, but neither of us care. There’s too much heat, too much want, and not nearly enough time to unpack any of it.

His lips are on my cheek, then my jaw and neck, the hard press of his cock against mine desperate. It’s all wrong. So fucking wrong, but it’s the only thing that’s made sense in months.

Years, maybe. Hell, my entire life.

I clench a fistful of his hair and yank him up to meet my mouth again because if I think too hard about what’s happening right now, I’ll fall apart.

This isn’t tender, or sweet, or anything like what I had with Salem. It’s a war against myself, one that I'm tired of fighting. All I know is that I don’t want it to end. Not yet.

Shoving Devon back again, I reach for his hoodie string and tug it loose. “Fuck me.”

His eyes blow wide, swollen lips parting in shock. “Are you serious?”

“Don't ask me questions.” I press the small rope into his hands before dropping my pants to release my aching cock. “Don't give me choices. Bind my wrists and just fucking do it.”

Don't let me change my mind.

I've spent too long obsessing over this, imagining what it would be like to sleep with a man. I can lie to myself, Salem, and God all I want, but I can't deny that my body craves this when I'm alone at night with nothing to occupy my mind.

So many times over the last few months, I've downloaded and deleted Grindr. Thoughts of my wife linger in the back of my head, but she doesn’t want me.

No one wants me.

It's now or never.

I turn around and bend over the kitchen table, placing my hands behind my back. Devon’s breath hitches, but he remains silent for a moment, probably checking out my ass. I let him drink his fill, only flinching slightly when the warmth of his covered crotch presses against me.

“You want me to be your villain?” he breathes softly, looping the rope around my wrists. “Fine. That's a role I know how to play well, but are you sure you're willing to cross that line? You can’t come back from this.”

I rest my cheek on the hard marble and stare off into my empty apartment, already feeling numb despite the painful throbbing between my legs. “Neither can you.”

Two souls bonded in sin.

Dev scoffs at that, securing my wrists tightly before undoing his jeans. “I was condemned to Hell the moment I took my first breath.” The crinkle of foil catches my attention. I glance behind to watch him pull out a condom and a packet of lube from his pocket. “You got a safeword or something? I'd assume so, being with Salem and all.”

Bristling at the mention of my wife—and his knowledge of her bedroom activities—I toss him a scowl as he rolls on the condom. “I won't need it.”