Page 17 of Man Advantage

“Come here,” he said. He held Cole’s hand because he could now. They had the house to themselves till Sunday and he’d run clean out of reasons not to. “It’s late. I’m suddenly not in the mood for pie.”

Cole looked down at their hands like he wasn’t sure he trusted them. Then he let Ford lead him toward the stairs. Partway up, Ford felt him hesitate. Ford tightened his grip and took the next step slowly, on the bad leg, and waited. After a second, Cole came the rest of the way up beside him. The spare room door stayed shut behind them, and neither one of them so much as looked at it.

NINE

Cole woke warm, pinned. There was a weight along his back, an arm heavy over his ribs, a slow breath moving against the back of his neck. It took him a second to place all of it, and once he had, he didn’t move because moving might wake the man behind him, and waking him would toss them back into reality. He wanted to live in this dream just a bit longer.

Behind him, Ford stirred. The arm tightened. Ford made a low, rusty sound into his hair, still half asleep, and pressed his mouth to the back of Cole’s neck like it was the easiest thing in the world. Cole’s whole body woke up at once.

Ford’s palm slid up and flattened over Cole’s heart, which was beating harder than a man lying still had any excuse for. “There’s nothing to freak out about.”

“Didn’t know I was that easy to read,” Cole said.

“You’re not.” Ford pressed the words into the back of his neck. “I’ve just been paying attention.”

He pushed up on an elbow. Cole rolled onto his back to see him better, and it hit him that Ford wasn’t guarding himself for a change.

Ford’s hair was a disaster, his eyes were barely open, and he was looking down at Cole without a single trace of regret. If anything, he looked stupidly pleased with himself.

“What?” Cole said.

“Nothing. Just wild that you’re here.” Cole heard the relief in Ford’s words.

“Where else would I be?” Cole asked.

Ford’s mouth curved against his jaw. “Nowhere, I suppose. In case I didn’t say it last night, I’m really glad you admitted you want me. I probably would’ve gone to my grave with regrets for never saying it.”

Cole didn’t know what to say to that. So he answered the only way he knew how. He got a hand in Ford’s disheveled hair and pulled him down. Ford came easily, his mouth slow and unhurried, morning breath and all, and Cole felt the press of his lips all the way down to the soles of his feet.

The kiss went on longer than either of them meant it to. Ford’s weight came down over him, solid and warm, one thigh pushing between Cole’s, and Cole got both hands under the hem of Ford’s shirt to feel the muscles of his back move.

Cole’s dick was already hard. He’d been hard since Ford flattened a hand over his heart, and when Ford shifted and Cole felt his length through the thin cotton between them, a rough sound got knocked out of him. He rolled his hips up into the weight of Ford, chasing his release. He wanted Ford’s hands lower and both their shirts gone. He’d stopped caring how obvious he was being about it. For a minute, it felt like the morning was going to get away from both of them.

Then Ford broke off, breathing hard, and dropped his forehead to Cole’s collarbone. “Okay. Hang on. We said slow.”

“You said slow. I said I’d go whatever pace you need.”

“Right. And you make me want to forget all the reasons that’s important.” Ford huffed a laugh against his skin. “Give me a second to remember I’m a grown man with a bad hip and some dignity.”

“You set the pace.” Cole said it to the ceiling and felt Ford go still against him, listening. “I meant that. We’re not kids. We don’t need to get off as fast as possible and then pretend it didn’t happen.”

“Definitely not going to forget this.” Ford shoved a hand under Cole’s body, squeezing his ass. “But I don’t want this to just be about what I need. What do you want?”

“This part. Waking up here. Not having to pretend you’re just my roommate.”

Ford lifted his head and looked at him for a second, and whatever he saw made his face go soft in a way Cole felt in his chest. “I like that part too.”

Cole stayed there a while, Ford’s weight half on him, his own hand moving slowly over the warm span of Ford’s back because he could now. He could get used to this. He’d wanted this exact morning longer than he’d ever say aloud, and now that he had it, the gravity of it scared him worse than going without ever had.

Eventually Ford rolled off him with a groan that was half pain and half complaint about being a responsible adult. He sat on the edge of the bed a second, working his leg loose. Cole got up on his own side, found his jeans, and let Ford have the small mercy of not being asked how bad it was first thing.

Downstairs, Cole put the coffee on, and Ford came and leaned against the counter beside him, close enough that their shoulders touched. Twelve hours ago, Cole had stood on this exact stretch of floor and said the most terrifying thing he’d ever said aloud, and now here was Ford, pressed warm against his side like it was nothing.

Cole got the griddle out and started pancakes out of habit. He’d been making them most mornings since he moved in, and this morning was no different. Except it was entirely different, and he made them anyway because being useful was still easier than sitting still.

“You know you don’t have to cook for me,” Ford said, watching him from the other end of the counter. That didn’t stop him from grabbing one off the plate, flipping it from one hand to the other because it was still steaming hot. “How do you make them so fluffy? Whenever I try, they’re like hockey pucks.”

“You flip like a goalie. All glove, no wrist.”