Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“Oh. That.” Dylan rocked against him, licking his way back into Apollo’s mouth. Dylan yanked at Apollo’s T-shirt, exposing his stomach so that their bare skin rubbed.
“Fuck.” He tweaked Dylan’s nipple, just to make him moan into his mouth, make him thrash against his body.
“We should...go upstairs...right the fuck now,” Dylan panted, even as his hips didn’t slow down.
“Upstairs?” Everything in Apollo went cold and still, chasing the burning heat out. Upstairs. To the room he shared—had shared—with Neal. Fuck. What the hell was he doing here?
“Yeah. As in a room with a door and a lock.” Dylan laughed, hands smoothing over Apollo’s shoulders. “Hey? What’s—Oh.” Dylan’s hands stilled. Damn him for being such a mindreader. “My room is fine.”
Apollo’s head fell back, eyes slamming shut. He couldn’t look at all the hope and anticipation bubbling in Dylan’s eyes, not when his own head was so cluttered.
Dylan shifted on his lap, and he heard the click of the light next to the couch being turned off. “Third step from the top creaks. Here can work too—”
“We can’t do this.” Apollo stilled him before Dylan could kiss him again.
“Hey.” Ignoring the iron grip Apollo had on his hips, Dylan bent forward, breath ghosting across Apollo’s face. He cupped Apollo’s face. “I get it. This is the first time you’ve done this since... You don’t have to do anything, okay? Just let me make you feel good.”
Good. That was such a dangerous concept—it felt like he hadn’t felt good in years, but also like he didn’t deserve to ever feel it again.
Dylan kissed his neck, finding the spot where his shoulder and neck met, biting lightly. “This is nice, yeah?”
More than nice. Apollo moaned as Dylan’s tongue soothed the bite, which Dylan seemed to take as yes, sinking gracefully to his knees between Apollo’s spread legs. His mouth was warm and eager on Apollo’s chest and stomach, lavishing him with kisses. And for a moment, with his eyes still shut tightly, it was good. So good. Almost enough to ease past the river of guilt swamping him.
Then Dylan palmed his cock through his sweats, starting to ease the pants down. Apollo’s muscles tensed.
“Sssh. Let me take care of you.” Dylan licked along the edge of Apollo’s waistband. He was so damn sweet, offering this, not wanting anything for himself, just giving and giving with that generous mouth...
But Apollo couldn’t take.
“No.” He gently pushed Dylan away.
“No?” Dylan came to sit next to him on the couch, stroking Apollo’s arms and chest, tugging the shirt back into place. He flipped the light back on, an unwelcome flash of light behind Apollo’s eyelids. “Tell me what you need. What would make this better for you?”
“Nothing.” Nothing was ever going to feel right again. His dick was screaming at him to just take what Dylan was offering and to stop with the thinking, but the howls from his brain were louder.
“Would it help to go super slow? Go back to kissing? I could be down with that—”
“I just need to be alone. I need to think.” God, it felt that was all his brain could do. Think. His eyes finally opened, smarting against the soft light of the side lamp. Darkness was easier, matched the blackness in his soul. “Sort myself out. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” Dylan’s voice was resigned, but he brushed a kiss against Apollo’s cheek before standing. “I’m going to be here when you finish sorting. Whenever that is.”
“Dylan.” Apollo stopped him before he could leave the room. “Don’t. Don’t wait.” His voice cracked. Fuck. Fuck emotions. “There’s about nine hundred reasons why this should never—”
“And one why we should.” Dylan crossed back over to him, bent and brushed a kiss across his mouth. Despite himself, Apollo responded, taking what was a sweet gesture and cranking the heat back up to high.
“Fuck.” He pulled away with a gasp.
“Night.” Dylan laughed. He headed for the stairs, then paused on the bottom step, sticking his head back into the living room. “And for the record, I’m about sixty seconds away from replaying that whole thing in my shower. You know where to find me when you’re done...thinking.” He gave Apollo a cheeky wink before bounding up the stairs.
Apollo flopped backward onto the chaise part of the couch, stretching out. No way could he face his room right then. Not after what had nearly happened right here. An angry symphony gathered force in his head. Neal. Dustin. Him. Everything good and decent he thought about himself.
“If something ever happens to me out there—”
“It won’t.” Neal hated this topic, and he shoved at Apollo’s chest.
“I’m just saying. I’d want you to be—”
“Not happening. You’re it for me.”
“Ditto.” Giving up on the conversation, Apollo tugged him down for a kiss.
Damn it. The memory made his sinuses sting and his throat burn. Neal was supposed to have been it for him too, not this inconvenient lust for the last guy he should want. He tried to focus on the memory, hold it close, but it slid away, maddeningly out of reach, replaced by that lust, images of how Dylan had looked and sounded.