“More than a moment.” Tierney’s lip curled up on one side. “It’s sorta . . . I still feel like that.”
Somehow they’d gotten closer. So near that Dalton could breathe in Tierney’s heat. He tried to take small sips of air, keep a clear head. “You still don’t want to be alone?” Oh God, Dalton’s heart pounded out in Morse code.
“No. I’ll . . .” Tierney began, so softly that Dalton wouldn’t have heard a thing if he weren’t in so personal a space with him. “I’ll wake up in the middle of the night, and that’s when it’s the worst.”
“I’ll hold you.” Oh God, he’d said that out loud. “I mean.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll stay here with you awhile longer, if you want me to.”
OhmyGod, ohmyGod. This way lies danger.
Tierney licked his lip. “You’d do that for me?”
Ungh. It made his heart ache even more, but Dalton pulled away, just slightly. “You could lie down if you want to, and I’d stay here. On the couch.”
Tierney’s eyes widened. Or wait, maybe he was leaning toward Dalton? He was getting closer, lips parting, lids lowering. Oh no, he’s going to kiss me!
Dalton braced himself, if swaying toward Tierney could be called “bracing.” His heart inched up his throat, wanting to be nearer to the action. One kiss. He’d let Tierney kiss him this one time, and that would be it. One brief moment of benefits, then back to only friends.
Or two’s good.
Show some self-control. One, he told himself firmly, and just in time, because Tierney was almost there, in that visual zone where most people closed their eyes since seeing someone’s pores in microscopic detail was disconcerting, but Dalton kept his open, focusing on Tierney’s lips and his whiskers. I could touch them. It was totally acceptable to caress someone’s face when you kissed them right? Even if it was just a friend kiss. More of an instructional kiss, because how many guys could Tierney have kissed? Maybe none.
Why is this taking so long? Dalton’s heart demanded, nearly to his epiglottis.
“Thank you,” Tierney whispered, and then lurched forward in a sudden and semicontrolled fall, settling his head in Dalton’s lap, squirming as if making a nest for it there.
Wait . . . What?
False alarm. And thank God, right? Dalton eased out a breath, his heart slowly slinking back down his throat, ashamed of its eagerness. He rested a hand in Tierney’s hair. Apparently they’d had a misunderstanding about who was sleeping on the couch.
“Do you think other people would be as nice as you are if they knew the real me?” Tierney asked, blinking heavily up at Dalton.
“Yes, I do.” He smoothed Tierney’s bangs back. Tierney smiled at him and rolled onto his side, tucking his hand under his cheek.
So sweet.
“You’re good to me,” Tierney murmured, then his eyes closed. “Such a good friend.” He went lax everywhere all at once.
Dalton watched the man sleeping in his lap and gave up trying to figure out the situation. He’d wait and see what happened. Let possibilities arise. Meanwhile, he could give Tierney the comfort of human touch in his sleep. The atmosphere was perfect: low lights, warmth blowing in from Tierney’s heating system, the low gurgle of something liquid—maybe Tierney had one of those tabletop fountains somewhere—and a sense of security wrapped around them. Dalton could feel it against his skin, and he could see it in the relaxed lines of Tierney’s face.
Strange how hair could always feel the same, just like hair, but each time it was also a new tactile experience. Or maybe Tierney’s hair was special. Silky. It didn’t look like it would be soft. He’d expected it to be more wiry, especially with that slight curl and the hints of red in it.
Letting his fingertip slide along Tierney’s nose, he traced the trajectory of its slope, then did what he’d been wanting to all night. He felt up the man’s scruff. It was silky too, at least for facial hair, and long enough that Dalton’s thumb could smooth it one direction, then the other. It always sprang back to short, upright little nubs, but it was more than a five-o’clock shadow.
Staring at a guy should become boring after a half hour, but somehow Dalton didn’t get there. It might have been the slight euphoria from the bourbon. Did all high-quality alcohol give one this sense of lassitude and well-being? No wonder Tierney drank it when he was stressed. Unfortunately, though, Dalton’s thigh muscles cramped up after a while. Carefully, he stretched one leg out straight, then the other.
Tierney hauled in a breath and moved, letting Dalton ease his legs more, work his jeans down his thighs so he didn’t cut off circulation to anything important. Tierney rolled over and tucked his hand under his chin, resettling to face Dalton’s body. Mouth inches from Dalton’s dick. Breathing on it—hot, moist air passing right through denim and briefs.
Oh no. Don’t enjoy it.
If he held very, very still and didn’t look at Tierney’s slack jaw or how his lips were parted so invitingly close to Dalton’s groin, maybe his penis wouldn’t notice. But genitals had a knack for knowing when they had attention focused on them, even unintentionally, and once they noticed, they tended to get demanding. Dalton’s started growing, bulging toward Tierney. Reaching out, eager to initiate contact.
Groan. He let his head flop back on the couch, concentrating on directing his blood flow. Away from the pelvis, away! But it kept pulsing toward his cock.
Tierney’s head nestled closer, but when Dalton jerked up to look, the man was still asleep. He had to do something to stop this now, because as ridiculous as the situation was—sleeping man in his lap, nuzzling around his dick—he totally wanted Tierney to wake up and touch him for real. Mean it when—if he took Dalton’s cock in his mouth and buried his nose in Dalton’s pubic hair.
Tierney’s head shifted again with the clenching of Dalton’s thigh muscles. If they stayed like this, something would happen. It could be the bourbon—he was such a lightweight—or that damn book he’d been reading, but something between them seemed so possible. Tierney was cute and vulnerable and needy with Dalton.
He’s not that way in public. This wasn’t part of the friend plan. He should take himself in hand, leave (then take himself in hand), and let things progress naturally. If they were even going to. If he even wanted them to.
Okay, so leave. He moved slowly, sliding one leg sideways. Tierney’s head lolled closer to Dalton’s dick, forehead brushing against the straining fabric—ungh—before Tierney readjusted his position. His brow wrinkled for a split second, and Dalton froze.