“Not my hair. He used to love my hair.”

Tristan gave a quick, short nod. Fair enough. So instead, he touched Josiah’s face. Cupped his cheek. Rubbed his thumb across Josiah’s skin. “Do you have any idea what I want to do to you? Look at me. Look at how hard I am for you.”

Josiah’s head tilted down, landing on the bulge in Tristan’s pants.

“Tell me you know you don’t have to do this.”

At that, Josiah’s head snapped upward again. “What? Why—”

“Just tell me.”

“I know I don’t have to do this. I want to. I want you.”

Tristan moaned. His cock jerked. “Hearing things like that come out of that sweet little mouth of yours... That’s my favorite thing about you, Josiah. Everything about you is so damn sweet. Even your mouth. I remember that, you know. And I want to taste it again.” Tristan dropped his hand from Josiah’s cheek.

“Come here.”

Without hesitation, or fear, cheeks flushed with desire, he stood.

For tonight, Tristan would make Josiah his.

Chapter Twelve

Josiah

Heat pooled low in Josiah’s belly. He was hard, so hard that he feared one touch from Tristan would push him over the edge. But no, he would make this last. Feel, and touch, and have as much of Tristan as he could. Give as much as Tristan wanted, because they both needed it—release, pleasure, to forget. He wasn’t sure how he knew that about Tristan, but he did.

He opened his lips as Tristan’s came down on his. Tristan’s tongue dipped into his mouth, sweeping, tasting, touching. All Josiah could think was, Yes. Yes.

“So sweet,” Tristan whispered before his mouth came down again, urgent this time. Tongue probing. Josiah’s did the same, wanting inside, wanting to know Tristan, too.

“Upstairs.” By the time the word left Tristan’s mouth, Josiah was already heading for the stairs. He took them two at a time, with Tristan right behind him. He wasn’t sure why he started to pass his room, just assumed Tristan would want to be in his own since he knew it was bigger, as was the bed, but instead he grabbed Josiah’s wrist to stop him. “In here.”

Josiah pushed the door open and Tristan closed it behind them. The second it clicked, Tristan’s hands were gripping the bottom of his shirt, pulling it over Josiah’s head. He tossed it to the floor as he buried his face into Josiah’s neck, sucking on the place where his neck met his shoulder.

“You unpacked,” Tristan said against his skin.

“Six months go.” But he didn’t want to talk about that. Just wanted to feel. Wanted the heat of another man’s body for the first time in seven years. Skin to skin. No, more than that—Josiah to Tristan, because even though touch was what he craved, he wanted it to be with Tristan. Someone he trusted.

Josiah pushed his hands under Tristan’s shirt, feeling each defined muscle in his back.

Tristan moved away, ripping his own shirt off. His fingers went for Josiah’s jeans. Unbuttoning. Unzipping. Shoving them down his legs. “Step out of them. Take your underwear off, too.”

The demand made shivers race the length of Josiah’s body. He worked quickly, doing exactly what Tristan told him to do.

“Jesus, you are so fucking sexy.” Tristan ran his hands down Josiah’s chest. Brushed his thumb through the hair that trailed his stomach and down to his erection.

Josiah hissed when Tristan’s hand wrapped around him. “Oh, God. Please... I want.” Everything. Wanted to feel everything, when he’d felt nothing for so long.

That’s when Tristan dropped down to his knees. Josiah’s heart raced, seeing this strong, confident man on his knees in front of him. Seeing Tristan there, it flipped a switch inside him. Showed him an almost vulnerable side to Tristan he’d never seen. It made Josiah’s heart stutter.

Leaning forward, Tristan nuzzled his face in Josiah’s crotch. Inhaled. Then sucked one of Josiah’s balls into his mouth.

“Tristan...” His knees almost gave out.

“Shh,” he replied before taking Josiah’s length into this mouth, deep, and pulling off again.

His sac burned. Fire spread through his whole body. “That feels so good, but I want...” He wanted Tristan inside him. Wanted to feel full, instead of empty and alone.

“I don’t go down on someone unless I really want to. I’m not going anywhere. Don’t worry. I’ll fuck you, too.”

Those words cracked, broke through the armor around Josiah. The piece of him that desired something strictly physical. There was a need in Tristan’s voice he’d never heard. A need for Josiah.