MAXIM

I sat back on my heels, momentarily stunned. I don’t know who was breathing harder, Derek or me.

Oh my God. I can’t believe that just happened.

I looked up at him, and he was staring at me like he’d never seen me before.

“Jesus,” he whispered.

Then he was gone. I don’t even think he zipped up his pants, he just took off. A moment later I heard footsteps on the stairs, followed by a slamming door.

Fuck. Was he angry? About what? I hadn’t forced him. He’d kissed me. Maybe I’d pushed it too far? But I’d asked before touching him, hadn’t I? And he never told me to stop, never pushed me away, never once indicated he wasn’t enjoying it. In fact, he’d seemed to enjoy it a hell of a lot.

Almost as much as I did.

I got to my feet and adjusted the crotch of my jeans. Apparently my dick hadn’t gotten the message that we were done here. It was still hard, and thinking about what had just happened was only making it harder. I could still hear Derek’s rasping growl, still smell him in the air, still feel his cock sliding between my lips.

I can still taste him.

Taking deep breaths, I braced myself against the counter and closed my eyes, trying to calm my body down. But God, the way he’d lost control was so fucking hot. I hadn’t expected it—I hadn’t expected anything, of course. There hadn’t been any time to think. But he’d gone from standing still and letting me have my way with him to grabbing my neck and pounding his cock to the back of my throat in an instant, almost like he’d snapped. It had surprised me somehow. The quickness of it. The violence of it. The intensity of it. I’d loved every fucking minute.

Not that it had taken very many of them. The whole thing had happened so fast, my head was spinning.

I turned around and leaned back against the counter, staring at the sink where we’d washed the dishes. It had been killing me how close he was standing, so close that I’d started to wonder if he was doing it on purpose. When he’d put his hand over mine, I’d been even more confused—straight guys didn’t touch each other that way, did they?

Then his words. Sometimes I don’t know what I want. I don’t have the best gaydar in the world, and English isn’t my first language or anything, but at that point I was pretty sure he was telling me he was attracted to me. It had both thrilled and terrified me—I wanted him like crazy, but what if I was wrong? What if I made a move and he was offended? What if he was just being American and opening up about his personal problems and it had nothing to do with me? Being Russian, I was used to people being indirect, but this was more than casual conversation. The stakes were high.

So I’d pulled my hand away. If he wanted me, he’d have to show it.

And he had. I’d almost had a heart attack when he grabbed me by the arms. But the way he’d kissed me, as if he were suffocating and I was fresh air, left no room for doubt—he felt it too, that thing between us. Whether he was gay or straight or something in between, it was there, and oh my God it was hot.

So what was Derek’s problem? What could he be upset about? Was it guilt? He’d said Carolyn wasn’t his girlfriend, although even so, he might feel bad for fooling around with me behind her back or something. Derek was such a good guy, that could totally be it. I hadn’t noticed any hot chemistry between them tonight, but that might have been because I hadn’t wanted to.

It was also possible Derek felt bad because I was a guest in his home, and he was doing so much for me. Maybe he was worried I’d felt pressured to repay him with sex or something. It was ridiculous, and hopefully it had been obvious to him how much I’d been into it, but I could see him feeling that way.

Or maybe he was horrified by what we’d done. Maybe it disgusted him. Maybe he was upstairs right now scrubbing away the evidence and begging God to forgive him.

I hoped not, but no matter what, it was clear that he was not okay with what had happened.

Upset by the thought, I turned off all the lights and went upstairs, glancing at Derek’s closed bedroom door but going straight into the guest room, making as little noise as possible. When I was undressed and lying on my back beneath the blankets, hands behind my head, I wondered how tomorrow would go. What he’d say. How he’d act.

In my gut I felt it would be best to let him take the lead, and then follow it. If he wanted to pretend it had never happened, fine. We didn’t need to talk about it. Nothing had to change, either, and I hoped he wouldn’t want me out of the house just because things had gotten heated between us. It wasn’t that big of a deal. We could go back to the way things had been before he grabbed me. Brush it off. Remain friends. It’s not like I wasn’t used to keeping my sexuality to myself, and I hadn’t expected anything to happen with Derek in the first place.

That said, I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.

I’d do more than that.