Evan had prepared for this naked-in-bed moment all week, and not just by buying condoms. With the help of his therapist, he’d planned what to do if that night crashed his mind in the form of a flashback or an unbidden memory: He would take a deep breath and find something concrete to ground himself in the here-and-now.

So here they were undressing—on opposite sides of the bed, to avoid any painful high-impact collisions. Evan’s fingers shook as he tried to undo the buttons of his flannel shirt.

Ben noticed straight away. “It is a wee bit chilly, isn’t it? I’ll put on the fireplace.” He went to a wall switch beside the bookcase. There was a slight hiss, then small flames whooshed to life. “Plus it’ll give us light, so I can turn this off.” He came back and reached for the bedside lamp.

“Leave it on.” Evan cleared his throat. “Just for now.”

Ben nodded, looking a bit uneasy. “I can see you better that way, since I’m blind without these.” He took off his glasses and laid them next to his bootlace tie beside the alarm clock. After a brief hesitation, he pulled off his T-shirt and dropped it on the floor. Then he rubbed his arms and looked away. “Yes, it’s chilly.”

Evan’s anxiety dimmed at the sight of Ben’s self-consciousness. All he could think about was touching him everywhere, removing all doubt from Ben’s mind that he was beautiful.

Forgoing the rest of the buttons, Evan lifted off his shirt, along with the white T-shirt underneath.

“Wow.” Ben stared at him, the ties of his undone sleep trousers dangling from his hand. “It should be illegal for you to wear a top.”

Evan felt his face flush as he unbuckled his belt. “Thought you said you were blind.”

“Shortsighted, technically. Besides, your muscles are incandescent. I bet they can be seen from space.” Ben tugged down his sleep trousers. “Ooh, talking of space.” He straightened up to reveal a pair of bright-green cartoon boxers featuring Marvin the Martian. “These were in my old chest of drawers here. Obviously, I wasn’t wearing them on our date, nor was I planning to come back here and explode in my pants.”

“They’re cute.” Evan stepped out of his jeans and gestured to his blue silk briefs. “Mine are boring.”

“There is nothing boring about that sight. At least, not that I can tell from here.”

They stood and looked at each other for a moment. Ben tucked his thumb under the waistband of his boxers. Evan did the same with his briefs. Neither moved.

Ben’s eyes crinkled. “So we’re equally bashful about whipping out our cocks for the first time. Now that’s cute.”

Evan laughed. Nothing about this situation—the man, the setting, the mood—resembled the last time he’d had been to bed with someone.

Still, he couldn’t help glancing at the door.

“I locked it,” Ben said, reading his mind. “But check it if you like.”

Evan didn’t want to look paranoid. “It’s not that I don’t trust you.”

“Go on, it’ll only take a second. I promise not to be insulted.”

So Evan went to the bedroom door, which was indeed locked.

The door was locked that night, too.

He took a moment to acknowledge this rogue musing. Thanks for the reminder. On you go now. Arguing with thoughts just made them cling to the inside of his brain, and that was how spirals began. Better to simply stand back and let them pass, to offer them respect but not appeasement.

“Sorry,” Evan said. “I should’ve taken your word for it.”

“I don’t blame you,” Ben said as he got into bed. “You’re in a strange house.”

There was no sign of the Marvin the Martian boxers on the floor, so Evan kept his briefs on as he slid under the soft duvet.

They faced each other at arm’s length without touching. Ben’s eyes seemed larger than ever without his glasses, which had left a pair of indentations on the bridge of his razor-straight nose. Dark hair spread across his chest and down over his stomach, thick enough to shadow the skin beneath without obscuring it altogether.

Ben swallowed audibly, then slid his hand over Evan’s beneath the duvet. Evan turned his hand to lock with Ben’s. They remained like that for several seconds—then, as though heeding some signal only they could hear, they tugged each other closer at the same moment.

As they kissed, Evan drifted his palm up Ben’s arm, savoring each inch of warm skin on this, the first man he’d touched in eight months. He sighed at the feel of Ben’s fingers gliding over his bare waist, then rising to wrap around the back of his shoulder. He relaxed into their embrace and reminded himself there was no rush, no agenda—and most of all, no danger.

Outside, a car door slammed. Evan jerked back and looked toward the floor-to-ceiling window at the other end of the room.

“It’s the neighbor,” Ben said. “Not Mum.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve spent most of my life in this house. I know every sound.”

Evan kept his gaze on the long teal curtains and tried to steady his breath. How could he explain that it wasn’t the thought of being caught by Ben’s mother that had set his heart racing?

Over the last seven months, Evan’s MI5 doctors and supervisors had watched him closely, looking for signs of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. He’d devoured the latest research and seized on every treatment to stave it off, more or less successfully. The fact he’d kept his sanity after Belfast was, in his opinion, his life’s crowning achievement.

Of course, there was no guarantee. “Every brain is unique,” his doctor had said. “We don’t know why some people develop PTSD and others don’t. Escaping it doesn’t mean you’re stronger, just luckier.”

A hand touched Evan’s chest. He flinched, but only on the inside, a feat in itself.

“Shall we go to my flat instead?” Ben asked. “Or maybe yours? Or would you rather, you know, say goodnight?”

“No, none of those.” He laid his head on the pillow again. “I’m fine here.” When Ben arched an eyebrow, Evan added, “Relatively.”

“Relative to where?”

He gazed into Ben’s eyes and told the utter truth. “Everywhere.”

Evan didn’t seem fine at all, but if this bed was the place he felt most comfortable, Ben wasn’t about to eject him from it.

As they kissed, hands exploring, Ben had to remind himself it was possible, however incongruous, that a man as big and strong as Evan could be fragile. But what had made him so? Did Ben have the courage—or even the will—to deal with it? He barely knew Evan, and much of what he did know was disturbing or incomplete.

With a soft growl, Evan ran his palm down Ben’s chest, then up again, spreading his fingers as they plowed through the thick hair there. Ben arched his back to meet this appreciative touch, reveling in the feeling of being wanted.

Then he reciprocated, sliding his palm over Evan’s pecs, which felt as smooth as they looked—like carved marble, only warmer.

He couldn’t help smiling. “This is like making out with Michelangelo’s David.”

Evan guffawed, instantly blushing. “I hope not, as that statue has disproportionately small genitalia.”

“Does it? Why?”

“It was a Renaissance thing, hearkening back to the Greek fascination with prepubescent beauty.”

“Och, that’s rather pervy in a modern context.”

They laughed together, but then the smiles faded from their eyes, replaced by a new heat.

Evan reached forward and slid his hand up Ben’s neck, into his hair, then kissed him. It was a kiss that both begged and possessed, and it sent molten wax flowing through Ben’s veins. He moved forward, sliding his thigh over Evan’s hip to bring their bodies together.

At this press of warm flesh against his chest, Ben felt his cock stiffen—somewhat painfully, but it was an ache he could ignore, if needs must. He wasn’t sure what they were about to do, but he was ready for anything.

The gas fireplace made its simulated-wood-crackling noise. Evan jolted in his arms.

“All right?” Ben asked.

Evan’s gaze darted toward the center of the room. “I’m fine, just…” He looked down between their bodies. “Still fair sore, you ken? I don’t think I’ll be able to—”

“Me neither,” Ben said. “Too bad, as I was pure looking forward to riding you proper.” Clearly soreness wasn’t all that was making Evan uneasy. “Shall we stop, then?”

“I’d rather not.” Evan looked at him with more sincerity than Ben had ever seen in those eyes. “I want to keep touching you. And kissing you. And have us keep doing both things to each other until we fall asleep.”

Ben melted inside a little. “I would really fancy that. A lot.” He skated his fingertips over the planes of Evan’s torso. “Warning, though: I might still spontaneously come just from touching your abs.”