I followed Lachlan with my eyes, wondering how everything had gone so wrong, so damn fast. We’d been having a nice meal, and then he’d thrown out that idea about a romantic getaway before showing me that stupid article.

I’d overreacted—rationally, I knew this—but the second I’d read my name, I panicked. A sharp jolt of adrenaline shot through my veins, causing my extremities to go numb and my ears to start ringing. It had taken a good thirty seconds before I could speak.

Unfortunately, once I’d been able to form words, I’d said all the wrong things, and now my boyfriend had essentially ordered me to get the fuck out of his house.

At the game of life, I was not winning.

But I wasn’t a quitter, either.

Cognizant of Lachlan’s shower, I stacked our used plates, forks, knives, and wine glasses in the dishwasher without rinsing them, and then made my way to his room.

My outburst might have wrecked us beyond repair, but I wasn’t leaving here without trying to make things right. At the very least, I owed Lachlan a huge apology. If he’d let me, I’d get down on my knees and beg for it.

While he finished up in the bathroom, I sat on the edge of his bed and waited patiently—something I wasn’t naturally good at. With my head bowed and my hands clasped between my knees, I considered and then threw out ten different ways of telling him how sorry I was for being a gobshite.

Finally, when the door opened, my head shot up.

“You’re still here,” he observed blandly, drying his hair with a thick white towel, his strong, naked body on display.

A body I loved for both the things he’d done to me with it, the things he’d let me do to it. I didn’t think there’d ever come a time when I’d be able to look at him and not want to weep with joy and gratitude for what he’d given me these past few months. And in repayment, I’d thrown it all back in his face because I was a fucking coward who couldn’t own up to who and what I was.

I pushed to my feet and took a few tentative steps toward him. When he speared me with a quick, angry look, I halted in my tracks.

“First,” I croaked, “I want to say thank you.”

He raised a skeptical eyebrow but didn’t otherwise respond.

When the silence stretched uncomfortably between us, I pushed forward, my voice trembling with nerves. “You were trying to do something nice for me—for us—and I was too far up my own ass to acknowledge it. So, thank you, and I’m sorry for how I reacted.”

Lachlan blew out a long breath and raised his eyes to the ceiling. His lips moved, but whatever he said was spoken too quietly for me to hear. I expected it was something like, “Lord give me strength not to murder this infuriating man.”

Grabbing a hairband, he wound his wet locks into a messy twist at the back of his head and secured the knot. I knew people mocked man buns, but I loved Lachlan’s hair, especially when he dragged it over my skin, the thick, soft tendrils raising goosebumps on their wake. If he ever cut it, I’d probably shed a tear … or twenty. I blinked away that depressing thought as I realized he hadn’t acknowledged my statement.

I watched as he silently continued getting ready for bed, turning his back to me to shove his legs into a pair of soft flannel pants. Second by excruciating second, Lachlan covered up all the parts of him that I coveted so much, and I wanted nothing more than to rip the fabric from his body so that he stayed bare to me.

Once, late at night, I’d described to him the palpable need I had to touch him—how my body physically needed his—and he’d explained how it had been the same when he’d been using heroin. I didn’t know how similar those two feelings actually were, but as I tamped down my instinct to reach out and place my hand on his warm, damp back, I understood how someone could become an addict.

My need for Lachlan was a compulsion I had very little control over.

Eventually, he turned to face me. Leaning against the bureau with his arms crossed over his chest, bare save for the ink that colored it, he said, “We can’t keep doing this, Liam.”

I let out a long gust of air as my eyes sought the floor. “I know,” I whispered, then repeated more forcefully, “Trust me, I know.”

“I care about you, but you’re killing me with this bullshit.”

Warily, I raised my gaze to his. “I don’t mean to be like this,” I explained. “You need to meet my friends back home so they can tell you how laid back I normally am, how nothing ever fazes me.”

“Do your friends even know about me?” he asked, his shoulders hefted nearly to his ears.

I could read Lachlan’s body nearly as well as I could read my own, and what it was telling me was that our future rested on my answer. He may not have said it aloud, but I knew the words that lived in his heart: Please tell me they know about me.

Relief washed over me as I recalled my most recent conversation with Declan, and I let out a quiet chuckle. “My best friend wanted to know if you’re hot.”

“Is he …” Lachlan started to ask, but I shook my head.

“No, just aggressively supportive.”

“What does that mean?” he asked, his shoulders relaxing somewhat.

I shook my head and smiled. “It’s a long story, but when I came out to him a couple of weeks before leaving Dublin, his number one goal was to get me laid.”

Almost as if he couldn’t prevent it, a small smile tugged at Lachlan’s lips, but then he schooled his features into a mask of polite interest. “What did you tell him?”

“I told him no thanks, and went back to my pint.”

“No. About me?”

God, the need in his voice nearly flayed me alive. I wanted to hurt myself for hurting him.

How had I never told Lachlan what he meant to me? How could I continue letting him believe he was a dirty little secret that I was ashamed of? How had I gone even one single day without explaining the power he held over me?

“I told him you look like Poldark, except you’re way hotter.” When Lachlan’s brows furrowed, I quickly added, “Declan knows I’ve got a thing for tall, dark, and handsome.”

“How did I not know that?”

I shrugged. “It’s not like we ever sat down and discussed our types,” I said, using my fingers to make air quotes. “But suffice it to say, you’re exactly my type. I wanted you from the moment I first laid eyes on you.”

“Poldark, huh?” he asked, letting loose a full grin that stole my breath. When I’d come to grovel, I’d been worried I wouldn’t ever see that smile again.

“Yeah, but he doesn’t have anything on you,” I said, stepping close enough to trace my fingers over the newest ink adorning his chest. It was a black and white illustration of an anatomically correct heart being squeezed by a rose, drops of crimson blood oozing from each puncture mark left by one of its sharp thorns. It was slightly macabre, but I found it sexy as fuck.

“What are we doing here, Liam?” he asked with a note of frustration after I’d explored every line and shadow of that ink.

“I thought I was telling you how badly I want you,” I answered, my fingers sliding down his torso. When I dipped them below the elastic of his waistband, Lachlan sucked in a quick breath while I marveled over warm skin that felt like velvet against my calloused hands.

“I’m also begging you to forgive me for being a fucking eejit,” I continued, leaning close and setting my tongue to his freshly-washed skin so I could lick a line up the column of his throat.

Lachlan’s chest rose and fell with labored breaths, and the thin cotton covering his pelvis tented as his desire mounted. With a groan, he leaned his head back to give me better access.

“I shouldn’t have let you touch me,” he bit out, his voice a potent mixture of anger and need. “There has to be more than this.”

I cupped him and rubbed my palm over his bulge, his cock thickening at my touch. “There is,” I assured him. “I need you, Lach. I know I’m shit at showing it, but you’re in my blood. I can’t walk away from you.”

“But you can’t acknowledge me either, and that’s why we can’t keep doing this.” His eyes screwed shut, and I could see the war raging inside of him.

Our chemistry wasn’t the issue. When we touched, it was explosive, and I never not wanted him. And I knew he craved me just as much. In fact, his overwhelming desire for me was the reason he’d cast his concerns aside and took a chance on me in the first place. And, I knew, it was what kept him from telling me to go straight to hell in those moments when our problems seemed insurmountable.

It was the only weapon I had at my disposal now, the only thing I could use to keep him by my side, but I recognized that if I abused that power, eventually the passion that drove his hunger could just as easily drive his hatred.

“I can acknowledge you,” I said, the words tumbling from my lips, “and I will. I don’t know how yet, but I promise I will. I’ll figure something out that works for both of us. Please, just … please,” I begged, falling to my knees and resting my forehead against his thigh. Wrapping my arms around him, I whispered, “Please, don’t let me lose you.”

For several long seconds, the only sound in the room was the staccato rhythm of our breathing. Eventually, he groaned and cupped the back of my head. “What am I going to do with you?” he asked with a resigned sigh. “Every time I think I’ve found the strength to walk away, you pull me back.”

Even as Lachlan issued the reprieve, I knew it wasn’t a guarantee he’d stay by my side. I’d promised him that I’d make this work, and in order for him to trust me, I had to make good on my word. And I would, but right now I needed to show him how real this was … how nothing had ever been more real to me.

“Let me love you,” I said, kissing my way up his thigh to reach his pelvis. Over the barrier of his clothes, I nuzzled against his cock until it stirred to life beneath my cheek. “Let me remind you how good I can make you feel,” I said, leaning away to untangle the knot at his waist before pushing the soft red flannel to the floor.

I brought his cock to my mouth and licked my way around the crown, teasing him with light strokes until he was thick and hard and pulsing in my hand. I fisted the base of him, and wrapped my lips around his head. When my head dipped forward to take him deeper, Lachlan’s hands fisted in my hair, and he moaned. With my other hand, I cradled his balls and rolled his sacs in my palm.

“Yes, just like that,” he encouraged when I did it again.

Hungry, wet sounds echoed against the walls of his bedroom, and as I made love to his dick with my lips, tongue, and throat, saliva coated my fingers, making my grip slippery. Slippery enough to slick my fingers back along his taint to his asshole, which I had every intention of fucking tonight.

Suddenly, and with aching need, I wanted to taste him there. I pulled my finger away and licked it clean. Sucking it into my mouth, I tasted his dark, musky tang. Spitting into my hand, I resumed my preparations.

“I want your ass,” I said, rubbing my saliva in small circles as his bud relaxed and unfurled to allow me to slide two fingers in to the knuckle.

With his ring gripping me tightly, I pressed forward, and he hissed. I froze in fear. I had no fucking clue what I was doing—only what I’d seen in videos—I didn’t want to hurt him.

“No, keep going,” he said once he’d relaxed against the intrusion.

I curled my finger and pressed against his prostate, watching for his reaction. I’d done a fair bit of research on how to get him off like this, so I hoped I was doing it properly now.

Apparently, I was.

Lachlan closed his eyes, and his head fell back. “Oh fuck, that feels bloody fantastic. I forgot how good this is,” he groaned, his hips jutting forward.

I’d been ambivalent about ass play for myself, but Lachlan’s comment reminded me this was something he’d been going without since we got together. Just one more reason for me to feel like a selfish prick.

Time to make it up to him, I thought, angling his dick toward my mouth. With my eyes raised to his, I said, “I want you to fuck my face while I get your ass ready for my cock.”

Lachlan moaned and speared his hands into my hair, holding my head in place while his hips fucked forward. Sliding my lips down the length of him until he hit the back of my throat, his salty pre-cum mixed with the lingering taste of his ass on my tongue, creating a flavor that was uniquely Lachlan’s.

I’d never been more turned on in my life.

I pressed down against my cock with my unoccupied hand, seeking relief from the pressure building there. I was hard to the point of pain, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way. I felt alive—like I’d been sleepwalking my way through life before now. And yet, it was like that every time we were together. Lachlan showed me what I’d been missing out on by denying what my heart, body, and mind yearned most for.

With each thrust of his cock into my mouth, my finger pressed against his prostate, a symbiotic loop of pleasure where one couldn’t exist without the other.

“More,” he panted as his hips moved faster and faster.

I pulled out and spat into my hand again, and when I returned to his ass, I added a third finger, sinking in past my second knuckle.

“Yes, fuck me hard,” Lachlan growled. “Faster. Give it to me faster.”

I was having trouble concentrating on everything all at once, so I gave up control of the blowjob. I opened my lips wider, relaxed my throat, and let Lachlan fuck my face at his own pace. Saliva dribbled down my chin, and a few times my gag reflex kicked in creating even more moisture, but I was so intent on what I was doing to his ass that I let him use my mouth however he wanted.

“I’m going to come,” he told me, holding my head to slide his cock in and out of my mouth at a furious pace.

I slid my fingers from his ass and, taking him as deep as I could, held him tight against my face as his thick, ropy cum shot down my throat.

When Lachlan’s hips slowed, I loosened my grip, and he slipped from between my lips. Caressing the tips of his fingers down my cheek, he smiled warmly, his eyes unfocused and hazy with post-orgasm bliss. He leaned down and took my face in his hands. Our tongues tangled as he kissed me deeply, and he purred low in the back of his throat, the sound rumbling from his mouth into mine and straight down to my balls. As we kissed, he pulled me to my feet, and with a final tug on my bottom lip with his teeth, he stepped back and licked his lips.

“I love the taste of my cum on your tongue.”

I laughed. “You’re filthy.”

He nodded, his eyes sparkling with satisfaction. “I am,” he agreed, moving to the bedside table and removing a bottle of lube and a foil-wrapped condom. When he tossed them down onto the mattress, they bounced. Crawling after them, Lachlan spread out on his stomach and looked at me over his shoulder. “Are you going to come fuck me, or are you going to stand there staring at my ass?”

Rapidly, I pushed my sweatpants down my legs and stepped out of them. “Oh, I’m fucking you,” I laughed as I climbed over him, rolling my naked body against his warm flesh.

“I’ve thought about this so many times,” I whispered in his ear, taking the lobe between my teeth and biting down. “This probably isn’t going to last long.”

Lachlan reached around and tugged me down until my cock rested snugly in the valley of his cheeks. “I don’t care. I just want you inside me.”

“Oh fuck, I want that too,” I groaned as my cock twitched, my balls grew tight, and I leaked pre-cum all over him. I was near the edge of what I could endure. Just the idea of finally fucking Lachlan was almost enough to make me come.

“How do you want me?” he asked, turning to kiss me.

When our mouths broke apart, I was breathing hard, and my imagination had launched into overdrive. There were a thousand different ways to answer that question, a million different scenarios I’d envisioned. How did I choose just one?

“I want you from behind,” I said, grabbing the lube and flipping the plastic top open. I pried his cheeks open and drizzled the cold liquid directly over his hole. He jumped, but then relaxed when I warmed the lube by rubbing it over his puckered skin. “I want to bury my cock here and then ride you hard.”

“Mmm,” he moaned, his eyes dropping closed and his lips lifting in pleasure. “Yes, that.”

“But then,” I continued, breaching him with my index and middle fingers to coat him internally, “I want to flip you over and fuck you missionary so I can watch your face when I make you come again.”

“Oh fuck,” he breathed out, flattening his palms on either side of his head and rolling his pelvis in time with my fingers moving in and out of him. “I’ve imagined that so many times.”

“Me too,” I admitted, opening the condom wrapper and rolling it down my shaft.

My dick sheathed, I lined it up with Lachlan’s entrance and breathed deeply. After years spent thinking I’d never experience having sex with a man, it was finally happening. And the fact that I was here with Lachlan made it that much better. I wasn’t a sentimental fucker, but I trusted him with my life, and I was thankful I hadn’t thrown this moment away on some random, drunk hookup whose name I’d never remember.

No one could predict what the future held, but with my body poised over his, I knew I’d remember Lachlan MacLeod until my dying day. I suspected he might turn out to be the goddamn love of my life.

“I need you,” I said, my voice coming out strained. I sounded like a dying man who’d seen his first glimpse of heaven, all the while knowing the promised land was off-limits to him.

Except it wasn’t.

“Then take me,” he said, his voice rich and gravelly.

I braced a shaking arm at his side and, with my cock in my other hand, pushed forward. He opened to me, and my crown slipped in. I gasped at the feel of him gripping me tightly, and then halted my progress.

“Don’t stop,” he implored. “I want all of you.”

I pushed my hips forward, and Lachlan’s body welcomed me home. When I bottomed out, he let out a long, ragged moan. I held still, giving him a moment to acclimate to my size, but he shook his head wildly and urged me on.

“More,” he breathed. “Fuck me like you’ve been waiting your whole goddamn life.”

I didn’t need him to tell me twice.

I pulled my hips back and then slammed forward. And through it all, Lachlan rode my cock like he’d been waiting his whole life to be fucked like this.

With each hard thrust, I felt my orgasm building. It started as a warmth coiled tight in my center, but then it unfurled, and that heat infused my chest, my limbs … every molecule of my being until I was made of it.

I pulled out and slapped his flank. “Turn over.”

Lachlan flipped onto his back and raised his legs until his thighs rested against his chest. Immediately, I returned to that tight, welcoming place, losing myself in him. Lachlan wrapped his arms around my middle and tugged me down until we were chest to chest, skin to skin. With his hands on either side of my face, he guided me to his lips and claimed them. And through it all, I plunged my cock as deep as it would go until I didn’t know where I ended and he began. Until his breaths were my breaths, and his moans were my moans.

“I’m going to come,” I whispered, my teeth clenched in a grimace as I fought to hold on to this sublime moment for just a little bit longer.

“I want your cum,” Lachlan said, reaching for the place where our bodies joined.

In those final seconds before I reached the point of no return, I pulled out and tore off the condom. Jacking my cock with three hard tugs, I erupted with a roar, my ears ringing and stars dancing in my vision as I emptied myself all over Lachlan’s stomach and chest.

When my cum leaked out in a final drip, I collapsed on top of him and found his lips. Lachlan caressed my head, stroked my back, my traced his fingers lightly over the globes of my ass, his touch calming and soothing as I came down from the most intense orgasm I’d ever experienced.

Eventually, our kiss slowed and came to an end, and I rolled onto my back next to him. For a few long seconds I laid there quietly, taking it all in, reliving each glorious moment. And then I experienced another feeling low in my gut. When my throat grew tight and my eyes began to sting, I realized with startling clarity that I was on the verge of tears. I tried to breathe my way through it, but my breath hitched, alerting Lachlan to my distress.

He pushed up onto his elbow and, with his head resting in his hand, stared down at me.

I turned away, lest he see the shimmering light in my eyes.

Wordlessly, he pulled the covers up and laid back down, his arm resting on my chest. He leaned close, and only then did he acknowledge the emotions he’d witnessed taking hold of me. “It’s okay,” he said, holding me tight. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

Except he was wrong. Everything wasn’t okay. It was damn near perfect.