Friday night, and my brain’s so scattered I spill the customers’ popcorn all over the counter, then give them back the wrong change. My boss isn’t around to breathe down my back, and that’s a blessing, because I’m shaking with nerves.

Fucking stupid. I asked Jason to come by, to stay at my place, and I don’t even know what to expect after last night. Will he take the sofa and not talk to me? Will he come to my bed and let me in again? Will he come at all?

Will he open up to me? After talking to Ocean—and Jesse—about Simon Gomez, I realized how little I know about his hold on Jason and how little can be done without that information.

Not that last night I had the presence of mind to grill him about it. Not that he’d reply. He’s skittish and wary, and the only way to get him to relax is to slow down and let him open up at his own speed.

If only I didn’t have this bad feeling churning in my gut, insisting that time is running out… Which is laughable. Why now? I’ll bet it’s just my lack of patience speaking, and not any real gut feeling. Jason looked good last night. Less bruised. More confident. He’s okay, and we will talk when he’s good and ready.

I have to have patience, tread gently.

But when I finally get home, after I spend two hours puttering about, preparing dinner, cleaning up the place, and he doesn’t show up… The bad feeling is back, and has me up and pacing.

Fear. It’s acid, eating at my stomach lining.

By ten at night, my cell phone is blowing up with messages from Ocean and the guys. We’re supposed to take our guests out, and I should join them.

I really should.

But no fucking way. Not tonight.

Please, let him come. I haven’t asked for that much in my life, and I don’t pray, not since my aunt ruined that for me, but I want Jason. So damn much.

Another hour passes. And he doesn’t arrive. I pace the length of my living room. I tell myself it shouldn’t surprise me. Nothing strange about him not showing up. I pushed and pushed for that promise.

Besides, he’s probably working, and the thought makes me sick. It makes me wanna break every piece of furniture in my apartment.

He was right. Maybe all we have in common are nightmares. Maybe I should give up.

Fuck that. What if something happened to him again? Last time I thought he was avoiding me I found him banged up and blue with cold on the street.

I’m gonna go look for him. Just to check he’s okay. And if he is, I won’t even invite him over. I’ll leave it up to him. He has the key to my home, and more. It’s up to him to use it.

Grabbing my jacket, I fire one last message to a pissed-off Ocean that I’ll join them tomorrow night. The event starts tomorrow, spanning the whole weekend, and of course I’ll be there. I work there, it’s my job.

Timing couldn’t be worse.

Anyway, one thing at a time. I open the door to get out—and find Jason right in front of me. He jerks back, eyes wide, and I hesitate, not sure how to handle this, even if my pulse is pounding in my ears.

The key I gave him glints in his hand. As he comes to a halt a few paces away, face flushed from the cold, I see that he has a duffel bag slung over one shoulder.

He’s here. He came to stay the night, like he promised.

Happiness shoots through me, and I grin at him. “You made it.”

A flash of surprise goes through his eyes, then something else I don’t have time to read before he nods and looks away. “You were going out. I can come back later.”

“I was going out to look for you.” I close the distance between us, grab his wrist and yank him to me. Distantly I hear the thud of his duffel hitting the floor. “No need for that now.”

His eyes have gone round. He grabs at my arms and gasps when I cock my head to kiss him. I hunt after his mouth, slant my lips over his, and he pulls me against him with a groan I feel all the way to my bones.

And other places.

Taste of spicy cinnamon gum and pot sweetness, and underneath it all Jason’s dark bitter licorice of sexy male. He lets me walk him back a few steps, then he shoves me right back, toward the apartment door.

I like the direction this is going. I really do. My back hits the doorframe, and I use the momentum to twist us around so I’m the one pushing him into my apartment.

He shoves at my chest. “My bag.”

Breathing hard, my dick hard to the point of pain and my chest strangely light, I jab a finger into a solid biceps. “Don’t move.”

His mouth quirks, and I shake my head at myself for feeling so ridiculously happy as I go fetch his bag from outside. I heft it over my shoulder, enter and kick the door shut with my foot. I put it down gently, although it’s light and feels filled mainly with clothes.

“Now,” I say taking his face in my hands, rubbing my thumbs over his mouth, “where were we?”

He grips my wrists as if he wants to yank my hands away, but he doesn’t. “Every time,” he whispers, “I tell myself I won’t come to you. And every single time I fail.”

“Why’s that?”

A slight roll of his shoulders. “I dunno.”

“You can’t resist me. Admit it.”

He sighs. “Really?”

I grin and press my forehead to his. “I’m irresistible.”

Maybe I’m pushing it. I fully expect a snarky comeback, and I’d deserve it.

But he closes his eyes and says, “You are.”

Well, damn. I resist the urge to throw him over my shoulder and carry him to bed. Barely. Not sure he’d appreciate that. “Compliments will get you anywhere. Jase—”

He drags me flush against him and kisses me. We stumble across the living room and into my bedroom, shedding clothes as we go.

The thought of having him trust me enough to let me hold him, jack him off, fuck him and make him come is burning like a supernova in my mind. Is it because he says he can’t get hard with other men? That he can’t come with them? No idea.

Everything else just fades. There’s only him and me. When his naked body slides against mine, I almost shoot my load on the spot.

“Come here,” I whisper and drag him up, his weight settling on top of me, his muscular thighs encasing my hips, his hard-on rubbing on my super excited dick.

Oh yeah. That taut body shifting on top of me, strong arms trembling slightly as he bends over me, pressing our hard-ons together, our chests, his piercings a counterbeat of discomfort in the deafening hum of pleasure. His mouth whispers over the scruff of my jaw, his silver earrings scraping, cold, against my skin when he trails his hot mouth down my neck.

He shifts, his cock thickening, and he moans against my skin. The colorful ink on his arms blurs in my eyes as he rocks his hips, humping me, and I wonder what it would feel like if he fucked me instead? In my limited experience, I’ve always been the one on top, but with Jason… Yeah, with him, anything is in the cards.

His hips roll once more, and this time I’m the one moaning, raising my hips to feel him better. “Damn, you’re killing me.”

He does a slight push up, his biceps and pecs shifting and tightening, only to slide his cock more firmly against mine. He smirks faintly, runs his tongue over those sharp teeth, and my dick jerks. I’d give everything I own for that wicked smile.

For him.

“What do you want?” I ask even as the need to bury myself as deep inside him as possible is burning me from the inside out. “In your dreams…” Because it seems that’s the only place where he can let go. “What does your lover do to you in your dreams?”

“You,” he whispers, and I frown, uncomprehending. “In my dreams, it’s always you.”

Fuck. I drag him back down for a long, hard kiss that has us both panting. “And what do I do to you?”

“You kiss me, fuck me, hold me. Overpower me. It feels…” He swallows thickly. “Safe.”

I was gonna have him ride me, but it sounds like he needs something different right now, and God help me, I’ll give it to him. Plenty of time for exploring more positions later. When he’s realized he’ll always be safe here with me.

So I wrap my arms around him, twist and flip him over. Hey, looks like my self-defense sessions at the gym with the Inked Brotherhood and Damage Boyz have paid off.

This time, despite the surprised oof leaving his lungs as he lands on his back, he doesn’t kick and punch at me. Eyes wide, pupils dark and dilated, he stares up at me and slides his hands down to my hips.

“So what will you do about it, huh?” Challenging me, his mouth curving into another sexy smirk. More like the Jason I used to know, and yet… not the same. A mixture of his cocky façade and the real him.

“I’ll make your fantasies come true,” I inform him.

And mine, at the same time.

He shifts. I shift, too, dick on dick, bristly thighs tangling together. I lower my head to latch on his shoulder, and he lifts a hand, tugging on my hair.

“Yeah,” he whispers, almost as if he doesn’t realize he’s speaking out loud. That his body is rocking, finding a rhythm.

This sleek, muscled, inked bad boy wants me. He really wants me. He came to me, still snarling and scratching like a wild animal. But he’s here. He came of his own volition. He asked to stay. The way he looks at me tells me much more than words ever could.

I’m not a job anymore, and the way he moves against me, the way he touches me… seeking his own pleasure together with mine, trying new things, rubbing himself on me shamelessly… it’s amazing.

Not that Jason Vega ever had any shame about his body—that I could sense, at least. But this isn’t him letting me take my pleasure. Or even asking me to force his release. No, this is us, moving together.

This feels too good to last, so I lick at the bite I left on his shoulder and sit up a little. I lower a hand between our bodies and find his cock, thick and hot, the head wet with precum, and rub my thumb over the small, weeping slit.

He gasps and arches into my hold, helplessly rocking up. Need and awe flashes through his gaze, and I could take on the whole damn world to make him happy. Dammit, I will if I have to.

But that’s a thought for later.

“What do you want?” I ask, again, because that’s all that matters. He may dream of me in control, but in reality, he’s the one calling the shots.

“Show me.” So much fucking trust in his eyes. “Again.”

How good it can be.

That it wasn’t a one-off thing last night. That sex can really be so great, that I won’t cause him pain, that he really is worth it—to me.

Now, I’m probably reading too much into his three little words, but hell, I think I’m becoming an expert in Jason-speak, attuned to the tone of his voice, his body language, that break in his voice when he opens himself up to me, tearing down his walls.

I drag the newly bought bottle of lube and the box of condoms from the bedside table onto the mattress. Prepared or not, I need him as relaxed as possible, and I plan on getting him off before I sink into him this time.

Tearing open a foil packet, I put on a condom anyway, in case things get out of control later on. His gaze is hot on me as I throw the foil away and grab the bottle of lube. I pour some on my hand, coat my fingers.

“One day,” I tell him, “we’ll do this skin to skin. Imagine how much better it will feel.”

“Raine…”

Settling back between his legs, I stop his protests, his doubts, with a kiss, my slippery hand stroking his thigh. I reach between us and give his cock a few good, strong strokes that have him groaning, his hard-on solid and trembling in my grip.

I kiss the edge of his mouth, his jaw, and when I look up, he’s got his eyes screwed shut, his breathing coming uneven and fast. So damn beautiful, sprawled on my bed, surrendering to me.

“I’m gonna warm you up,” I warn him, not sure if he has triggers—or rather what they are. “Open up for me.”

I nudge his legs further apart with mine, and he lets me. I slide my hand between them, and I take a moment to massage his balls and the sensitive skin behind them, feeling the tremors going through him.

“Oh fuck…” he chokes out when I slide two fingers into his ass. “What are you doing…?”

I crook my fingers, thanking the gods of the internet for the tips and explanations, and nail him in what I hope is his prostate.

His body jolts, jackknifing on the mattress, his eyes flying open wide. His ass clamps hard around my fingers. “Holy fuck.” A flush rises to his cheeks. He bites the inside of his cheek to stifle a loud moan and fails. “Do that again. Oh shit…”

My cock swells more, my balls heavy, my stomach clenching. I take a couple of deep breaths.

He’s so hot. His strong chest rises and falls fast as I fuck him with my fingers, that damn piercing in his nipple flashing, his gleaming, scarred skin calling me. His arms have dropped to the sides, and with the way he’s gripping my sheets I wouldn’t wonder if he tears them to shreds by the time he comes. His head has fallen back and the tendons in his neck stand out like cords.

Goddammit, I want him to lose control, come apart and let me in, not just in his body but in his mind, too.

“Raine, you just…” His hips lift and fall, his dick leaving wet trails on his taut stomach with every thrust of my fingers. His breath is coming in short, harsh huffs. “Chrissakes, fuck me.”

Yes.

I drag my fingers out, lift his legs up, grab my dick and push into him. And the world around us fades to nothing.