A few weeks have passed since I last saw Eric in Puerto Vallarta.

As I drive to his place, this thought keeps playing over and over again in the back of my mind: what the fuck am I doing?

I’ve been thinking that same thing since Ty walked in while Eric and I were sharing a moment.

I’m not going to stop questioning what we’re doing. That feeling will stick around as long as this remains a dark secret Eric and I keep from my best friend, but how can we talk to Ty about this when we don’t even know what the fuck is going on?

What if all this has just been about fucking?

I know that’s bullshit, but it’s more complicated than anything I’ve ever been involved in before.

When I’m at the concierge desk, waiting for the concierge to call the elevator for me, the way he looks at me, like he’s done this for Eric’s tricks before…it’s strange thinking there’s a witness in Eric’s real life, someone who knows something’s up between the two of us. And the weirdest part about it is that I like it.

I don’t want to keep Eric a secret.

If it wasn’t for this situation, it wouldn’t need to be a secret, but all I know is I’m relieved to see him again because not being able to have a conversation about what’s going on has been so fucking frustrating.

I knock on the door to his unit and wait, realizing this is what so much of my anticipation over the past few weeks has been about—this moment when we face each other again.

Between me starting my new job and Eric having to make time to come to Atlanta, it’s been too fucking long since we’ve been together…too long since I’ve heard his voice…since I’ve felt his body against mine.

As the door opens, he stands there, wearing an uncomfortable expression.

He’s in a T-shirt and jeans, barefoot. The familiar fragrant scent of cologne fills the air, mixing with some sort of spice. We sort of look at each other. Then he smirks, which in turn makes me smile.

He nods for me to enter, and when I do, he closes the door behind me.

I want to kiss him, but he turns away, saying, “This is the place.”

Just like his condo in Puerto Vallarta, it’s gorgeous and packed with what must be designer furniture—a black leather sectional sofa taking up most of the living area and a wide-screen TV across from it. I imagine him watching The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo on that TV. Abstract art hangs on the walls, along with various sculptures and decor that rest on side tables and consoles.

The entryway into the kitchen is beside the door, the bar dividing it from the living area.

I hear something sizzling in a pan even before I turn to see him approaching the stove. He mixes the contents inside a skillet with a wooden stir spoon.

“It’s been a little while since I’ve seen the chef in you,” I say.

He glances back at me. “I typically cook a lot more than I did in Puerto Vallarta. You know, I was on vacation.”

“You cooked several meals, for it being vacation,” I reply. “And I enjoyed everything you made, so what are we having?”

“I figured I’d keep it simple tonight. It’s nothing fancy. A little chicken and penne pasta.”

I walk around the other side of the bar and into the living area, checking out the dinner table set with plates, placemats, silverware, and napkins. Two unlit candles are placed between the plates, and a bucket of ice with a bottle of wine sticking out sits on the edge of the table.

“This is very nice,” I say.

I head back into the kitchen and come up behind him.

I don’t like this awkwardness between us, this distance that seems to be there now that we’ve been apart this long. There seem to be all these questions lingering, questions that have been left open. But there’s one thing I don’t want him to question.

I put my arms around him, pull him back against me, whispering against the side of his face. “Hey, I’ve missed you.”

As he whirls around, I back away slightly, but not giving him much personal space.

“I’ve missed you too,” he says, like he doesn’t want to admit it.

“There. Was that so hard?” I ask, leaning into him and pushing my lips against his, hoping not just to remind him of what we shared, but to recapture it for myself. That energy, that spark I’ve craved. In these past few days, I’ve wondered if we can even recapture outside of that experience that feels like a whole other world away.

It’s effortless how quickly we fall back into that passion, and what was apprehension and hesitation when I first arrived, becomes need from Eric as he pushes me back against the adjoining counter. His hand slides up under my shirt, around my hip, to my back. He forces me close to him. The way his tongue claims my mouth and his free hand grips the back of my neck, I feel his need for me.

I slide my hand between us and feel his stiff erection shielded by the jeans barrier.

“We should eat first,” he says, “otherwise, I think I’m going to be a little too distracted to do anything else.”

“Eating was exactly what I had in mind,” I tell him as I stroke his cock.

I slide my hand between his jeans and waist, beneath his boxers.

His eyes roll back.

“I don’t think I can wait,” I tell him.

With my other hand, I unfasten his fly and pull his jeans and boxers down. He doesn’t resist. I didn’t figure he would.

I squat and take that cock into my mouth, moving my head up and down as I enjoy the sensation of his girth against my tongue. I haven’t thought about dick in all my life as much as I have since we started fucking around. And I thought about having my lips around his girth like this since I realized I was deprived of it. I hadn’t had it enough.

As I suck, his groans assure me that even though I’m new to all this, I’m not doing such a shitty job.

I want to please him. I want to make him happy so bad.

As he strokes his fingers through my hair, encouraging me along, it feels so good, so right. A powerful taste fills my mouth. He’s precumming. I pull back and enjoy that flavor, licking my lips, savoring it. I gaze up at him, and he looks down at me. And there it is—that much more familiar version of Eric, the one I got to see so much of in Puerto Vallarta, and all that chemistry, all that magic, that spark, is there again.

“Fuck,” he says, pulling his attention away from me and twisting back to the stovetop behind him. “Should be done,” he says, but I wonder if that’s true or if he just wants this more than to make sure he’s prepared a delicious meal.

He keeps his hips in place, that cock right before me, so as he moves the pan off the burner, I can continue my work.

I cup my hand around his balls and squeeze in a way that was so satisfying when he would do it to me. Then I pull my mouth from his dick and push to my feet. As I stand before him, he gazes into my eyes before his attention redirects to my lips.

He wipes his thumb under my bottom lip, retrieving what seems to be some precum that I didn’t manage to lap up.

“I didn’t really make any appetizers,” he says, “so I guess we’ll have to make do.” He pushes his thumb into my mouth. I lick and suck on it, enjoying knowing it’s him.

As he pulls his thumb out, he puts his hand on the back of my head and forces me toward him swiftly, taking my mouth once again, seizing control of my will and my desire.

He retreats for a moment to say, “I want you in my bed.”

Squatting down, he wraps his arms around my legs and hoists me into the air, slinging me over his shoulder, letting me know who’s boss. Kicking out of his jeans and boxers, he carries me through his unit, through a short hall, then enters the doorway at the end of it.

He makes his way to a California king-size bed and throws me onto my back before crawling on top of me. We claw and grapple at each other’s clothes, struggling to pull them off.

I can’t get naked fast enough.

I want his lips, his mouth, his hands crawling all over my body, hitting all those places they were so good at stimulating. At the same time, I want to touch and kiss and lick and suck all over him, but it’s impossible to do everything at once, so it results in us in a frenzy, making up for lost time.

“I need you inside me again,” I tell him, but it’s so much more than that.

I need him possessing me. I need him taking what’s his with reckless abandon, like this, while he’s wild and virile. A moment where we’ve once again allowed ourselves to forget about reality and just do what we want, what our bodies command us to do.