Page 90 of Out Of A Fix

Both arms were wrapped tight around me, his right hand fisted in my sweater, over my left pectoral, and his left splayed wide, pressed to my abdomen. I needed to get him off me, but I struggled to think of something to say.

“You’re shaking,” he said gruffly, pushing on me, his chest plastered to my back, his groin flush with my ass, his warm breath on the side of my neck.

“What’re you doing?” I barely got out.

“I have no idea.”

I inhaled deeply. “You have no idea?”

“You make me crazy, and I can’t think.”

“You do realize that’s another reason why I should⁠—”

“If you say one more word about leaving, I will lose my shit.”

His voice sounded strained, threadbare and scared, and insisting would cause harm. I never wanted to hurt him with anything I did or any of my choices.

“Okay, so tell me what you’re thinking right now.”

“You mean because I’m holding on to you like I’m drowning?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’ve never…men don’t…I’m not…”

“You’re not attracted to men.”

“No.”

And yet, from the way I was being held, letting me go was not an option. So we stood there, the two of us, breathing together, but he didn’t relax his grip on me even a fraction.

“I don’t know what to do,” he confessed hoarsely.

“That’s all right,” I replied tenderly.

“I don’t know what I want, because it’s never been…this.”

“Okay.”

“But I can’t have you go away and leave me, and leave them, without knowing what this is. You can’t…” His voice cracked, and the sound, like he was confused and broken, tore right through me.

I rounded on him slowly, not pulling away, and letting him know that by how deliberately I was moving.

“Nash,” he whispered, and my name, as always, sounded good on his lips.

Moving him was easy because I was not a small, frail man. I was bigger and stronger than him. Not by a lot, but I had muscle and height on him that I used to my advantage when I knocked him back gently into the door.

When I looked at him, his eyes were narrowed, slits of molten ocean, and his entire focus was on my mouth. His interest was obvious, so I took his face in my hands, bent forward, and kissed him.

It was gentle, quick, just a brush of my lips over his, but he didn’t pull back or turn his head away. Instead, his gaze held mine, so I kissed him again, harder, my tongue slipping over his lips, once, and then again, and when he parted them, I pressed inside, my tongue rubbing, pushing, until he opened wider, and I sucked for a moment until I heard his breath catch, followed by a low whimper.

Those were good sounds, wanting sounds, needy sounds, and when I eased back, he leaned with me until I put a hand on his chest, holding him still as our lips parted.

I took a quick breath, then another, watching him swallow and seeing his chest rise and fall. The full-body shiver made me feel like I could fly. There was no doubt I wanted Luke Duchesne desperately. I liked the lawyer, he was flirty and fun and so very pretty, but there was no comparison to the urgent need I felt to put my hands and mouth all over the man standing in front of me. His roughened breathing told me he was as excited as I was.

“We should…the kids,” Luke said.

“Yes,” I agreed, slowly letting him go, realizing I’d had him wrapped in my arms, both his hands now flat on my chest. “The kids.”