A hysterical laugh bubbled up in my throat. When had everything gone so completely off the rails?

  My phone buzzed in my pocket. I fumbled for it with numb fingers, the screen blurry with rain. A text from James.

  James: Are you okay? You’ve been gone for an hour.

  An hour? It felt like both longer and shorter than that. I stared at the message, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. What was I supposed to say?

  Another text came through before I could respond.

  James: Please just let me know you’re safe.

  The concern in those words made my throat tight. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t telling me to fuck off or calling me a coward. He was just worried about me.

  I typed back with shaking hands.

  Me: I’m fine. Just needed to clear my head.

  Three dots appeared immediately, then disappeared. Then appeared again.

  James: Do you want me to come get you?

  I looked around at the empty street, the rain still pounding down relentlessly. I was soaked to the bone, freezing, and probably a good twenty-minute walk from the apartment if not more. Pride told me to say no, that I could handle this on my own.

  But I was tired of pride. Tired of pretending I didn’t need anyone.

  Me: Yeah. I’m on Fifth and Morrison.

  James: Be there in 10.

  I found an awning over a closed bakery and huddled under it, trying to preserve what little body heat I had left. My mind was still racing, still trying to process everything that had happened. But underneath the panic and confusion was something else. Something that felt suspiciously like relief.

  Because the secret was out. At least between James and me. I didn’t have to pretend anymore, didn’t have to hide what I was feeling. He knew. And he hadn’t run away screaming. If anything, he’d been the one trying to make me feel comfortable, to take things slow.

  Headlights appeared at the end of the street, and I recognized James’s car. He pulled up to the curb, and I ran through the rain to yank open the passenger door, collapsing into the seat with a shiver.

  “Jesus Christ, Kent,” James said, cranking up the heat. “You look like a drowned rat.”

  “Thanks,” I muttered, teeth chattering. “I know.”

  He didn’t say anything else as he pulled away from the curb, just kept one hand on the wheel while the other adjusted the vents to point the heat directly at me. I held my hands up to the warm air, trying to get feeling back into my fingers.

  The silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating. I could feel him glancing at me every few seconds, like he was trying to figure out what to say. I kept my eyes on the road ahead, watching the windshield wipers fight against the rain.

  “I’m sorry,” I finally said, the words coming out rough. “For running out like that.”

  “You don’t have to apologize.”

  “Yeah, I do.” I turned to look at him, taking in his profile illuminated by the dashboard lights. He looked tired, worried. “That was shitty of me. We did something and then I just... bolted.”

  James’s jaw tightened. “Do you regret it?”

  The question hung in the air between us. This was the moment. I could lie, could tell him it was a mistake and we should pretend it never happened. Go back to being stepbrothers who barely tolerated each other. It would be easier. Safer.

  But I was done being a coward.

  “No,” I said quietly. “I don’t regret it. And that’s what scared me.”

  He exhaled slowly, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “You scared me too. I thought—I thought maybe I’d pushed you too far. That you were going to come back and tell me we could never do that again.”

  “Is that what you want? To do it again?”

  James pulled up to a red light and finally turned to look at me fully. The intensity in his eyes made my breath catch. “Yeah, I want to do it again. But only if you’re sure. Only if this is what you want and not just some... experiment.”

  “I don’t know what I am,” I admitted. “Gay, bi, whatever label you want to put on it. I don’t have it figured out. But I know that being with you felt right in a way nothing else ever has. And I know that sitting in this car right now, soaking wet and freezing, all I can think about is kissing you again.”

  The light turned green, but James didn’t move. A car behind us honked, and he jumped, pressing on the gas. His hand found mine across the console, lacing our fingers together.

  “We’ll figure it out,” he said. “Together.”

  I squeezed his hand, warmth spreading through my chest that had nothing to do with the car’s heater. “Okay. But… can I ask a favor?”

  “Anything.”

  “Don’t tell anyone,” I said, the fear creeping into my voice. “I don’t know how long I’ll need to figure this all out. Weeks, months… years… But I don’t want to explain it to anyone before I even understand what’s going on.”

  James’s hand tightened around mine for a moment before he lifted it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles. The gesture was so tender, so unexpected, that it made my chest ache. Up until that moment, I never knew I’d craved those small touches.

  “I won’t tell anyone,” he promised. “Take all the time you need.”

  Chapter 16

  James

  It had been two days, and I still found my brain occupied by Kent nearly every waking moment of my life. And when I was asleep, he dominated my dreams completely. More than once I’d woken up in the middle of the night, rock hard, and grinding against the mattress.

  I’d taken to cold showers just to get some relief, but they only helped temporarily. An hour later, I’d be right back where I started, hyperaware of Kent’s presence in my apartment, of the way he moved through the space like he belonged there.

  We hadn’t talked about what happened. Not really. Kent had gone to work the morning after our rainy reunion, and when he came home, we’d circled each other like wary animals. Polite. Careful. Neither of us willing to be the first to acknowledge the elephant in the room.

  But the tension was unbearable.

  I could feel his eyes on me when he thought I wasn’t looking. Caught him staring at my mouth when I was talking about something mundane like what to order for dinner. And I was just as bad, tracking his movements, remembering what it felt like to have his hands on me.

  It was driving me insane.

  I was supposed to be working on the rebrand project for my new client, but I’d been staring at the same blank Photoshop canvas for twenty minutes. My laptop sat on the kitchen table, cursor blinking mockingly at me while my mind replayed the feeling of Kent’s cock sliding against mine, the desperate sounds he’d made, the way he’d looked at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.

  The front door opened and I jumped, minimizing the empty project like I’d been caught watching porn. Kent walked in, still in his work clothes. He had on dark jeans and a button-down that did nothing to hide how his body had filled out since high school. He’d always been athletic, but now I noticed there was a solidity to him that made my mouth go dry.

  “Hey,” he said, setting his keys on the counter.

  “Hey.” I forced myself to look back at my laptop screen, pretending to be absorbed in work.

  I heard him move through the apartment, the sound of the fridge opening, and a soda can being popped open. Then footsteps approaching. He appeared beside me, leaning against the table with a beer in hand.

  “You’ve been staring at that screen for five minutes without moving the mouse,” he observed.

  Shit. He caught me.

  “Just thinking.”

  “About work?”

  I finally looked up at him, and the expression on his face told me he knew exactly what I’d been thinking about. Heat crept up my neck.

  “Not exactly,” I admitted.

  Kent took a long pull from his can, his throat working as he swallowed. I tracked the movement, then forced myself to look away. This was torture.

  “We should probably talk,” he said quietly.

  “Yeah. Probably.”

  But neither of us moved. The air between us felt charged, electric. I could hear my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.

  “I’ve been thinking about it too,” Kent continued, his voice lower now. “About you. About what we did.”

  My breath caught. “And?”

  “And I want to do it again.” He set the can down on the table, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. It was that same nervous gesture I’d come to recognize. “But I also don’t want to fuck this up. Whatever this is.”

  I stood up, closing the laptop. We were close now, close enough that I could smell his cologne mixed with the sweat of the work day. “What do you want this to be?”

  “I don’t know.” His eyes searched mine, vulnerable in a way I’d never seen from him before. “All I know is that I can’t stop thinking about you. It’s making it hard to focus at work, hard to sleep. I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

  “Join the club,” I muttered.

  A small smile tugged at his lips. “So, what do we do about it?”

  The smart thing would be to take it slow. To talk through all our feelings and concerns, establish boundaries, make sure we were on the same page. But standing this close to him, seeing the want in his eyes that I knew was mirrored in my own, I couldn’t bring myself to care about smart.

  “We could stop overthinking it,” I suggested, my hand finding his hip.

  Kent’s breath hitched. “Is that what we’re doing? Overthinking?”

  “Definitely.” I moved closer, eliminating the space between us. “We’re both adults. We know what we want.”

  “And what do you want, James?”

  The way he said my name, rough and desperate, sent a shiver down my spine. I leaned in until my lips were almost brushing his ear.

  “I want you in my bed,” I whispered. “But no running away after.”

  His hands found my waist, gripping tight. “I think I can do that.”

  “Can you?” I pulled back just enough to look at him. “Because if we do this, Kent, I need to know you’re not going to freak out again. I can’t… I can’t handle watching you run.”

  Something shifted in his expression, determination replacing the uncertainty. “I’m not running. Not this time.”

  “Promise?”

  Instead of answering, he kissed me. It was different from the frantic desperation of two nights ago. This was deliberate, thorough, like he was trying to prove something. His hands slid up my back, pulling me flush against him, and I could feel he was already half-hard in his jeans.

  I broke the kiss, both of us breathing hard. “Bed. Now.”

  We stumbled across the room, unable to keep our hands off each other. Kent’s fingers were already lifting the hem of my shirt, clumsy with urgency. I yanked his tucked in shirt free, sliding my hands underneath to feel the warm skin of his back.

  We made it to my bed, and I pushed him down onto the mattress, climbing on top of him. He looked up at me, eyes filled with want, and I had to take a moment to just appreciate the sight. Kent, in my bed, looking at me like that. A week ago, this was nothing but a hazy fantasy in the back of my mind. Something that would never happen. But now he was here, hard and willing underneath me.

  “I want you to fuck me,” I said, my hands on his chest. “But… maybe that’s too much too fast.”

  “I…” Kent faltered. “Yeah. I think you’re right.”

  I was disappointed, I couldn’t lie about that. But I wanted to do this right. “Blowjobs then?”

  Kent nodded. “You’ll have to show me how.”

  I felt my cock throb at his words. The idea of teaching Kent, of being his first in this way, sent a thrill through me that I didn’t know I needed.

  “Okay,” I said, shifting off him to kneel beside the bed. “Come here.”

  He sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress so he was sitting in front of me. I reached for his belt, working it open slowly while maintaining eye contact. His breathing had gone shallow, his pupils blown wide with anticipation.

  “First rule,” I said, popping the button on his jeans. “Pay attention to how your partner reacts. Everyone likes different things, so you need to learn what works.”

  Kent nodded, his hands gripping the edge of the mattress.

  I eased his zipper down and he lifted his hips so I could pull his jeans and boxers down to his thighs. His cock sprang free, already hard and leaking. I wrapped my hand around the base, giving it a slow stroke, and he made a strangled sound in the back of his throat.

  “Second rule,” I continued, watching his face. “Start slow. Build up to it.”

  I leaned in, pressing a kiss to his hip bone, then the crease of his thigh. His muscles tensed under my lips. I took my time, kissing and licking everywhere except where he wanted me most. His cock twitched against my cheek, and I could feel him trembling with restraint.

  “James,” he breathed. “Please.”

  “Please what?”

  “Stop teasing me.”

  I smiled against his skin. “But teasing is half the fun.”

  Finally, I gave him what he wanted. I licked a stripe up the underside of his cock, base to tip, and his hips jerked forward involuntarily. The taste of him flooded my senses, a tantalizing mixture of salt and musk. I circled the head with my tongue, lapping up the pre-cum that had gathered there.

  “Fuck,” he gasped, one hand flying to my hair.

  I took him into my mouth, just the tip at first, sucking gently. His grip on my hair tightened, not pulling but holding on like he needed something to anchor himself. I relaxed my throat and took him deeper, inch by inch, until my nose was pressed against the coarse hair at his base.

  The sound he made was obscene. It was a low, desperate moan that went straight to my own cock. I pulled back slowly, using my tongue to trace the vein on the underside, then took him deep again. I established a rhythm, bobbing my head while my hand worked what my mouth couldn’t reach.

  Kent’s breathing had turned ragged, his hips starting to thrust in small, stilted movements like he was trying not to fuck my face but couldn’t help himself. I pulled off with a wet pop, looking up at him.

  “You can move,” I told him. “Just don’t choke me.”

  His eyes were glazed, pupils completely blown. “Are you sure?”

  Instead of answering, I took him back in my mouth and relaxed completely, letting him take control. His hand tightened in my hair and he started to move, shallow thrusts that gradually grew deeper as he got more confident. I hollowed my cheeks, sucking hard, and he cursed.

  “God, James, your mouth—” He cut himself off with a moan.

  I reached down to palm my own cock through my jeans, desperate for some friction. The sight of Kent coming undone above me, the weight of him on my tongue, the way he was trying so hard to be gentle even though I could tell he wanted to let go… It was almost too much.

  His rhythm started to falter, his thrusts becoming erratic. “I’m close,” he warned. “I’m gonna—fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

  I doubled my efforts, taking him as deep as I could and swallowing around him. That was all it took. He came with a shout, his cock pulsing as he spilled down my throat. I swallowed it all, working him through it until he was twitching with oversensitivity.

  I pulled off and sat back on my heels, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. Kent looked wrecked with pleasure. His hair was mussed from my hands, his chest heaved, and his eyes were half-closed in pure delight. It was the hottest thing I’d ever seen.

  “Holy shit,” he panted. “I… I didn’t know it could be that⁠—”

  I couldn’t help but grin. “Good?”

  “Good doesn’t even begin to cover it.” He reached down, pulling me up onto the bed beside him. His hand found the bulge in my jeans. “Your turn.”

  “You don’t have to⁠—”

  “I want to.” He was already working at my belt, his movements less practiced than mine had been, but no less eager. “Show me how.”

  I helped him get my jeans off, my cock springing free and already leaking. Kent stared at it for a moment, and I could see the uncertainty flash across his face.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “Yeah, just... nervous. What if I’m bad at it?”

  “You won’t be.” I cupped his face, making him look at me. “Just do what feels natural. And remember what I said. Pay attention to how I react.”

  He nodded, taking a breath before lowering his head. The first touch of his tongue against my cock made me gasp. He was tentative at first, exploring with kitten licks and soft kisses. Then he wrapped his lips around the head and sucked experimentally.

  “Fuck, yes,” I encouraged, my hand finding his hair. “Just like that.”

  He took me deeper, and I felt his teeth graze me slightly. He pulled back immediately, eyes wide with apology.

  “It’s okay,” I assured him. “Try wrapping your lips over your teeth so they don’t catch.”

  He tried again, this time being more careful. The wet heat of his mouth enveloped me, and I had to bite back a moan. He wasn’t as skilled as I was. How could he be? But there was something incredibly hot about his inexperience. The way he was so focused, so determined to make me feel good.

  “Use your hand too,” I instructed, my voice strained. “You don’t have to take it all in your mouth.”

  He wrapped his hand around the base, stroking while he sucked on the head. The combination of sensations had my toes curling. I threaded my fingers through his hair, not guiding but just needing to touch him.

  “That’s it,” I breathed. “You’re doing so good.”

  The praise seemed to embolden him. He took me deeper, his hand working in tandem with his mouth. I could feel the pressure building at the base of my spine, my balls drawing up tight.

  “Kent,” I warned. “I’m close.”

  He didn’t pull off. Instead, he looked up at me through his lashes, and the sight of him, my stepbrother, on his knees between my legs, my cock in his mouth, pushed me over the edge. I came hard, my hips jerking as pleasure crashed through me in waves.