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Slower, and slower still, until they were almost at a standstill, mouths together but not moving.
Zane's eyes were nearly closed, glints of gray all Eli could see. If you don't want this to get a
lot more serious, better stop now, he warned Eli.
I don't know, Eli said. Yes. No. Hell, I don't know what I'm saying. He reluctantly let
Zane go. Sure, he wanted to grab and rut and fuck. He was a guy. But now they'd stopped
kissing, and the cooler air had begun to make itself felt around them, the urgent rush had
eased up. His brain struggled with the disconnect between friend and lover not as strong as
before, no, but once again there in his head.
Hey. Zane rubbed his thumb under Eli's jaw. Do not lose your cool. It's me.
Trust me, if I didn't know that, we wouldn't be here right now. Eli let himself indulge and
kissed Zane's forehead. Girly, but Zane didn't mind. In fact, he smiled, loose and easy as if
he'd come. Eli wondered, then realized it'd be a hell of a lot harder so to speak to tell if a
guy had faked it.
So they were both strung out, on edge, yet full up. So, Eli said. He found Zane's hand
and played idly with Zane's fingers, looking at them so that he wouldn't slip into the what
have I done? panic that he kept at bay with an effort. He hadn't lied. Anyone but Zane and
they'd have been eating his dust long ago. Zane was different. Zane was& Zane. A law unto
himself. Terrifying. Fantastic.
So, Zane echoed. He sighed and pressed his head to Eli's chest briefly before propping
himself on his elbow to face Eli. Not a fluke, huh?
I think we can rule that out, yes.
Zane chuckled. He reached out to smooth down Eli's rumpled hair. Good. Not that I'd
mind further testing.
I bet you wouldn't. Eli let himself look at Zane, drinking in all the details from flushed
cheeks, the pinkness spreading down to his chest beneath the sweater, and back up to the
cockeyed grin and sleepy, content gaze. I still have no idea what I'm doing.
Give yourself some credit. You're doing fine. Zane pressed his forehead to Eli's and
rolled them together. Besides, it's the both of us. We figure it out together. One for all.
And two for the price of one. Eli fidgeted, the nearness fast making him more interested
in going on than stopping, though he knew he'd regret it if he did push the issue. Fuck in
haste, kick yourself in leisure. So, he said again, rolling strands of Zane's hair between
thumb and forefinger. We're both in the game. Help me figure out where we go from here.
Chapter Seven
Okay. Give me a minute. I've got to catch my breath. Zane lay on his back, hands laced
together beneath his head. Eyes closed, breathing quick, he presented a picture of deliciously
debauched man. Eli hadn't ever imagined a guy this way. Never had reason to. But should he
ever have gone there, he wouldn't have thought a man could look like this: rumpled hair, lips
reddened and plump from kissing, and clothes in disarray.
The clothes. Those drew Eli's eye and kept it there. Zane's sweater had ridden up just far
enough in his exploration that it bared a tempting strip of suntanned skin and muscle, with a
trail of hair that arrowed down from his navel to disappear beneath his jeans. Eli knew, in the-
ory, why it was called a happy trail, and he'd always been plenty happy with his own trail and
the good times it led to.
Strange, in a good way, to look at another's and comprehend all over again why that stripe
of hair earned its name. To know that he wanted to follow it down.
And Zane knew what he was thinking. Always did. He nudged Eli with his knee. You
wanted to discuss?
Suddenly, not so much, Eli said, voice rough in his throat, and bent his head again to fit
his lips to Zane's. He thought Zane might have said, Thank God, but he wasn't paying much
attention.
Keeping to his word, Eli didn't ask out loud. He wanted, he directed, he took. Slipped a
hand beneath Zane to guide him up, sitting, and pulled sharply on the hem of Zane's sweater.
Off.
Yeah? Zane whispered, lips at Eli's ear. You're sure you want to see me?
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