And Call Me in the Morning (6 page)

Zane seemed willing to help with that goal. Once he had a drink in hand, he hopped into his accustomed place perched on the arm of the couch and stretched, yawning. “Ended up staying all day,” he said as casually as if this were any other evening. Good. “Interns, I swear. The kid who interrupted us twice earlier? He paged to apologize for apologizing.”

Eli snorted. “Tell me I was never that bad.”

“No. God, no. You actually know the difference between your ass and your elbow. After that, I spent the rest of the day at the clinic. Which you knew.” Zane rubbed his eyes. “They're going under, Eli. It's only a matter of time.”

Damn. Zane couldn't have loved a baby more than that clinic or been more loyal to its mission than a faithful hound. “You're a good doctor,” Eli said abruptly and without prompting.

“You're not so bad yourself. Which brings us back to interns.” Zane propped his elbows on his knees. One of those who sometimes talked with his hands, he gestured as he spoke. “The second I laid eyes on you, I thought, There's someone who knows what he's doing. I figure it's because you came to the field when you were old enough to understand the difference between your ass and your elbow.”

Eli laughed.

So did Zane. “I speak the truth. Sometimes I wonder if sending eighteen-year-olds off to college to decide their futures isn't the dumbest idea ever. Maybe a couple hundred years ago when eighteen was actually an adult instead of an overgrown adolescent.”

Eli nodded, rubbing his chin with his thumb. What he knew, but didn't bring up, was the fact that Zane had been on the fast track for medicine long before he was eighteen. Groomed for it since elementary school, the youngest of a family of doctors that wanted nothing more than to produce yet another MD.

Zane finger combed still-damp hair out of his face. He hadn't shaved, leaving a shadow's worth of fine stubble on his cheeks. The man would look good with a beard, Eli thought. Unlike himself. Eli looked like a horse with a mold problem when he tried facial hair. Then again, Zane made almost everything look good.

Yeah, Eli had noticed these things before. He'd thought everyone had. Now he guessed not.

“Sometimes,” Zane said, choosing his words with obvious care, “the way I see it, a person needs to get out and live some. Try new things. Find out who they are and what they really want.”

“I recognize a segue when I hear one.” Eli sat forward on the couch and mirrored Zane's pose. “So we're going to do this, huh?”

“I think we might,” Zane replied. He watched Eli with the same curious intensity of focus as he had in the bistro. This time, Eli recognized it. This time, the shudder of sensation wasn't fear. Well. Not all fear. Something Eli couldn't quite put a name to. “I think we have to.”

Eli waited.

Zane waited.

Eli kept his lips zipped.

“I can outlast you, you know,” Zane said.

Eli sighed. “Fine, I give.”

“About time.” Zane's posture eased. His drying hair fell over his face again. “So I was thinking, uh… Damn.” He bit his lip. “Okay, having a little trouble with the words, now of all times.”

“You, speechless? I should have brought my camera to get a picture.” Eli took a second look at Zane. The man had a tremendous sense of self-presence. Handsome and he knew it, and a sharp dresser within the limits he set himself. Even his lounging-around clothes were chosen to fit and present his best side.

Soft, touchable sweater. Come-hither-and-tap-this jeans. Stubble. Hair in disarray that invited smoothing. Bare feet. Nothing anyone could truly point to as a come-on, but only an idiot wouldn't be able to read between the lines.

Looked like Eli wasn't the only one seeing things in a new light after the kiss at the bistro. Or maybe…

“Can't hide anything from you, can I?” Zane asked with the wry twist of his lips that indicated he knew he'd been made.

“Subtlety is not your middle name.”

“Where'd I lose you?”

Eli waved at the general area of Zane's neckline. “Right around the part when you flashed your tits.” Over Zane's laughter, Eli sighed and made himself lean back on the couch. “I'd just like to go on the record as saying this is nuts.”

“You're not telling me anything I don't already know.” Zane stretched his arms over his head. “Anyway, the outfit. Consider it an experiment on my part. Worked too.”

“How so?”

“You looked.”

“That I did.” And he wanted to look again.

“Shows you have good taste, if you ask me.” Zane eased down next to Eli. He almost seemed to crackle with the kind of energy that meant he was cooking up something interesting. “Here's what I figure. We try it again.”

Eli froze.

Zane jostled Eli. “Hey. This is me here. Stay with me. It's just a kiss. Maybe it
will
be awful this time. Too much saliva, too much tongue, too much stubble, whatever. We'll know it was a fluke. We write it off to outside influence and get on with our lives.”

“Or…?”

Zane shrugged. Eli envied him his casual acceptance. Or was that a facade? Maybe so. Interesting. The man had balls. Now more of a consideration than ever. “Or we'll have a hell of a lot more to figure out. Are you with me?”

“Zane…” Eli hesitated, one foot off the ledge. “I don't think this is me.”

Zane laid one hand on Eli's knee. “Hey. Don't go and start thinking you're in this by yourself. I've got the other oar, and I'm rowing, brother. I'm rowing hard because these are fucking deep waters.”

“But…?”

Zane slid his hand higher, slowly enough to be stopped. “You're not into guys. But I'm starting to think you're into me.”

“Zane—”

“I wasn't finished. I'm starting to think I'm into you too. So.” Zane stopped moving. “What do we do with that?”

“We could panic.”

“True. Or I could take you by surprise,” Zane said and kissed him.

It went slower than that, of course, but only later would Eli be able to track how it'd happened. Zane slid down to lie on the couch, on his side, and at that range it was easiness itself to roll over him and take Zane by the chin, tilt his face up, and fit them together.

Zane's lips were as soft as Eli remembered. They tasted of the scent of leather and a hint of peppermint and underneath that the baseline Zane that Eli was already growing accustomed to. It all registered, then dissipated because when a man was being kissed the way Zane kissed Eli, there wasn't room for anything else.

He found himself with his fingers in Zane's hair, sifting the strands, as silky as they'd been before. More so, freshly washed and dried and left to fall as they wished. Warm. So was the nape of Zane's neck, and that was the perfect place to rest his hand to guide Zane.

Zane drew back, only far enough to sit upright. “Angle,” he said. “Up or down?”

Eli wanted to say up. The couch was better. But something in him wanted more. “Down,” he said roughly, kicking his legs out and making room between coffee table and couch. “Room to move.”

“You think I'm putting out on the first date? I'm not that kind of girl, you tramp.” Zane grinned when he succeeded in making Eli laugh and, in the wash of good humor, slipped down to join Eli on the floor, stretching out beside him, taking up all the available space, too close for comfort, just close enough to entice.

In for a penny and all that. Eli took half a second to adjust to the sensation of firm legs pressed to his and the rise and fall of Zane's chest with each breath, and then the nearness of his mouth commanded all Eli's attention.

This time, Eli was the one to kiss first. He knew his place now, a firm grip to guide Zane where he wanted the man—
man
; was this ever going to get less strange? Then again, he wondered that every time, and so far, as soon as Zane's lips were pressed to his, he forgot that it mattered.

Zane sighed, a wisp of breath that tickled Eli's cheeks. He slid his arm around Eli's waist and began to pull him over, Zane more on his back, Eli draped halfway on top of him. Legs separated, Eli propped on his hip.

Curiosity killed the cat, but as Eli recalled, the other half of that old saw was, “But satisfaction brought it back.” He rubbed his cheek against Zane's and turned his head to take a hazy-eyed glance down Zane's body. As he'd thought, Zane liked this kissing stuff plenty. He was hard in his jeans, solid, but gentleman enough not to push the issue.

Eli might have loved him a little for that. One step at a time, right? Yet somehow…somehow he couldn't look away. Not out of horrified fascination, but something different. Intrigue? Maybe.

“Hey. Back up here.” Zane nudged Eli into place. “We're not done.”

Eli took a moment to trace the sharp angles of Zane's cheekbones and the cleft in his chin, marveling at the differences between man and woman. “Not by a long shot,” he agreed, coming back in.

They'd kept it chaste so far. PG-13. This time, Zane reached for Eli and kept him closer, tighter, his hand firm on Eli's back, with the heat of his palm pressing a brand through Eli's sweater to his skin. As he did, he let his lips part, just the way he had before, only better now that Eli didn't want to hesitate to slide inside and taste him.

Jesus. That first slick stroke went to his head. Eli stopped, hissing.

“No, you don't.” Zane prevented him from retreating. “It's just me. It's okay. Like that. Just like that.” He helped and guided Eli back into action. Smoothed over the bump in the road until it was forgotten.

Eli rolled more firmly into place, draped over Zane's chest. One thigh pressed to Zane's hip, his own burgeoning hard-on kept considerately away from contact. Scary as hell. Amazing. He drew Zane's lower lip between his teeth and sucked, nibbled lightly.

“Can I…?” he asked, not sure what he was asking but confident Zane would probably have a better idea. The guy knew him so well, after all.

“Anything.” For once in his life, Zane's gray eyes were hazy, out of focus. He returned the bite, sharper, with interest. “You don't even have to ask.”

“I know.” Eli took a deep breath and let his hand drift downward. Not too far—nowhere near ready for
that
yet—and plucked at the loose hem of Zane's soft, touchable sweater.

Zane watched him, curiosity cutting some of the daze, and a wicked grin rising when Eli slid his hand beneath to rest on Zane's bare stomach. That grin disappeared when Eli stroked him, unconsciously, not wanting to stop once he'd started. “Oh God.”

“You're telling me.”

“More,” Zane said, dragging Eli down to him. Turnabout being fair play, and Zane being Zane, it was only natural—and welcome, surprisingly so—when Zane skimmed a caress up beneath Eli's sweater and found a place to rest on Eli's back. His skin was so warm, hot, Eli wondered if Zane would leave a print there long after they were done.

Zane being Zane, it also figured that Zane would follow through and up the ante. He drew a line up and down Eli's back. “Hairy chest, I can deal with,” he said between kisses. “If you'd had a hairy back, I'm afraid I'd have kicked you out.”

“No, you wouldn't have,” Eli said, emboldened by the turn-on of the touch and the ripe softness of Zane's mouth yielding to his. Zane tasted so good and gave way so sweetly, better than any woman Eli could remember. Better than Marybeth, bless her thin-lipped soul, and that was enough thinking about his ex-wife. He cupped Zane's cheek and held him in place, kissing deep and wet and—
oh
. Eli grunted into Zane's mouth at the sudden, rough pressure.

“Are you groping my ass?”

“Is that a problem?”

“Not sure.” Eli swallowed around a knot in his throat. “I don't think so.”

“Good,” Zane said happily before returning to the business at—well, at hand. Eli sensed that Zane was discovering the same bonus as Eli: doing this with a man, you could be just about as rough as you wanted. They knew they weren't going to break.

Eli wanted a little of that action himself. He found Zane's upper arm and pulled. “Like this. This. Roll over.”

Zane chuckled, soft and low and knowing. He didn't let go of Eli; matter of fact, he tickled at Eli's belt and slipped the tips of his fingers beneath. Just feeling him up, not going any further. Still making Eli abruptly nuts, crazy enough to grab a solid handful of tight ass and knead. The sound Zane made, fed between his lips, took care of the rest of Eli's online brain and left him with nothing but feeling.

Strong hands sweeping up his back and down to his ass, the flex and give driving heat deeper and harder. Zane would leave bruises; Eli found he welcomed the thought of them. Wanted to give Zane a mark of his own.