And Call Me in the Morning (7 page)

Action followed impulse. He left Zane's lips to let himself do what he wanted and travel down, following stubbled cheek to the underside of his jaw and beneath the ear, then down the throat until he could feel Zane's pulse hammering beneath his lips.

There? Yes, there. He kissed once, twice, hard, drew a bit of the flesh between his teeth and bit. Just enough pressure to raise a welt.

Zane tugged Eli's hair, not hard enough to hurt or really make him want to move. “You want me in turtlenecks for a week? I'll look like a fruity poet.”

Eli chuffed a quiet laugh. “Don't like it?”

“Didn't say that.”

This was intoxicating. Eli let go and let himself travel. Down, farther down, to the neckline of the sweater that'd tormented him before. He hesitated, wanting it off. Too much? He shifted forward, wondering if he had the balls—and his thigh came into contact with something hard that wasn't knee or hip.

Zane flinched, shuddered—whimpered, a tiny noise that drove out all questions, at least for the moment. Christ, that was his dick, and he was hard enough to drill through a wall. I did that, Eli thought, stunned. It's because of me.

He challenged anyone not to be turned on by that. “Off,” he said, jerking at the edge of Zane's sweater. “Off, right the fuck now.”

“On the first date?” Zane nipped the corner of Eli's jaw.

“I think we're beyond—oh, God.
Oh
.” Leave it to Zane not to be shy or to be a slow learner. He'd begun to rock forward, slow and easy did it, but not mistakable, nudging Eli with his dick. Giving him room to back off if he wanted.

Eli did want. Didn't. So confused. Only not confused at all, not when Zane took it that one step further and molded his hand over Eli's dick and pressed down. Eli grunted and bowed inward. Too good. He didn't know how long it'd been since someone else's hand was on him, and Zane—

Too good. Eli caught Zane by the wrist and held him away. “Stop,” he said, feeling the heat of his own breath on Zane's skin. “I don't think—”

“Exactly. Don't think.” Zane cupped Eli more firmly, not going anywhere anytime soon, and massaged.

“Oh,
fuck
.”

“Looking like that might happen someday,” Zane said. He drew a teasing stripe up Eli's cock and, thank God, let go. Last thing Eli wanted—at this point—was to go off like a teenager, and he'd been dangerously close to that happening.

Back to the kissing and the slower sweeps of hand and the drawing closer of bodies. Slower, and slower still, until they were almost at a standstill, mouths together but not moving. Zane's eyes were nearly closed, glints of gray all Eli could see. “If you don't want this to get a lot more serious, better stop now,” he warned Eli.

“I don't know,” Eli said. “Yes. No. Hell, I don't know what I'm saying.” He reluctantly let Zane go. Sure, he wanted to grab and rut and fuck. He was a guy. But now they'd stopped kissing, and the cooler air had begun to make itself felt around them, the urgent rush had eased up. His brain struggled with the disconnect between
friend
and
lover
—not as strong as before, no, but once again there in his head.

“Hey.” Zane rubbed his thumb under Eli's jaw. “Do not lose your cool. It's me.”

“Trust me, if I didn't know that, we wouldn't be here right now.” Eli let himself indulge and kissed Zane's forehead. Girly, but Zane didn't mind. In fact, he smiled, loose and easy as if he'd come. Eli wondered, then realized it'd be a hell of a lot harder—so to speak—to tell if a guy had faked it.

So they were both strung out, on edge, yet full up. “So,” Eli said. He found Zane's hand and played idly with Zane's fingers, looking at them so that he wouldn't slip into the “what have I done?” panic that he kept at bay with an effort. He hadn't lied. Anyone but Zane and they'd have been eating his dust long ago. Zane was different. Zane was…Zane. A law unto himself. Terrifying. Fantastic.

“So,” Zane echoed. He sighed and pressed his head to Eli's chest briefly before propping himself on his elbow to face Eli. “Not a fluke, huh?”

“I think we can rule that out, yes.”

Zane chuckled. He reached out to smooth down Eli's rumpled hair. “Good. Not that I'd mind further testing.”

“I bet you wouldn't.” Eli let himself look at Zane, drinking in all the details from flushed cheeks, the pinkness spreading down to his chest beneath the sweater, and back up to the cockeyed grin and sleepy, content gaze. “I still have no idea what I'm doing.”

“Give yourself some credit. You're doing fine.” Zane pressed his forehead to Eli's and rolled them together. “Besides, it's the both of us. We figure it out together. One for all.”

“And two for the price of one.” Eli fidgeted, the nearness fast making him more interested in going on than stopping, though he knew he'd regret it if he did push the issue. Fuck in haste, kick yourself in leisure. “So,” he said again, rolling strands of Zane's hair between thumb and forefinger. “We're both in the game. Help me figure out where we go from here.”

“Okay. Give me a minute. I've got to catch my breath.” Zane lay on his back, hands laced together beneath his head. Eyes closed, breathing quick, he presented a picture of deliciously debauched man. Eli hadn't ever imagined a guy this way. Never had reason to. But should he ever have gone there, he wouldn't have thought a man could look like this: rumpled hair, lips reddened and plump from kissing, and clothes in disarray.

The clothes. Those drew Eli's eye and kept it there. Zane's sweater had ridden up just far enough in his exploration that it bared a tempting strip of suntanned skin and muscle, with a trail of hair that arrowed down from his navel to disappear beneath his jeans. Eli knew, in theory, why it was called a happy trail, and he'd always been plenty happy with his own trail and the good times it led to.

Strange, in a good way, to look at another's and comprehend all over again why that stripe of hair earned its name. To know that he wanted to follow it down.

And Zane knew what he was thinking. Always did. He nudged Eli with his knee. “You wanted to discuss?”

“Suddenly, not so much,” Eli said, voice rough in his throat, and bent his head again to fit his lips to Zane's. He thought Zane might have said, “Thank God,” but he wasn't paying much attention.

Keeping to his word, Eli didn't ask out loud. He wanted, he directed, he took. Slipped a hand beneath Zane to guide him up, sitting, and pulled sharply on the hem of Zane's sweater.
Off
.

“Yeah?” Zane whispered, lips at Eli's ear. “You're sure you want to see me?”

Eli jerked more firmly on the sweater.

“Careful of the threads,” Zane objected.

Eli kissed him quiet, then pliant, amazed at the thrill of satisfaction when Zane moaned and went loose in his arms. When he let Eli do what he wanted and guide the sweater up and over his head. Zane's hair stood out like a dandelion, crackling with static electricity. Eli took half a second to chortle at the sight—what else were friends for?—before Zane took control again and dropped back to lie on his elbows, baring all that skin in invitation.

Sneaky bastard. Not half bad-looking, either. Eli gazed, fascinated, at Zane's chest. He'd seen it before, sure. They'd changed in front of each other, washed Zane's car back before he'd had a fit of environmental consciousness and sold the monster, had worked out until their shirts were molded to their bodies with sweat.

Those experiences didn't so much compare. For one thing, Eli could reach out and touch now, and he did. One palm to Zane's stomach, his fingers splayed wide, feeling the jerk and shudder of Zane's reaction.

He let that hand slide up, over muscles and ribs and between Zane's pecs. He had less hair than Eli, and his skin was smoother. Eli wondered how they would look together, side by side, and there was no good reason why he couldn't find out.

And so he did. He let go of Zane reluctantly, only long enough to sit up and yank his thermal shirt over his head. Shorter hair, no crazed dandelion look, not that he gave that more than a second's worth of thought because as soon as he'd seen, he wanted to see closer. He lay down beside, then on Zane.

Christ
. The first touch of skin to skin made Eli jerk, a full-body shudder that Zane echoed. He'd have compared more, looked harder, if Zane hadn't speared his fingers into Eli's hair and hauled him in for a kiss that might have lasted hours. Eli lost track. All he knew was that somewhere in the middle, he needed to touch more. Arms, chest, stomach, none were quite enough until he was back at Zane's hip again.

Until he found himself toying with the button and zip of Zane's jeans, the heat of his solid erection radiating against the side of his hand, and Zane's breathing quick and shallow against his lips.

Terrifying. Almost too much so. Almost—

Zane knew exactly what Eli was thinking. Always did. Never let anyone say Zane wasn't a quick study or that he didn't understand what made Eli tick. He was at the perfect angle to slide his hand down the back of Eli's jeans and squeeze his ass.

“Fuck!” Eli hissed between his teeth and bowed his back, wanting both to draw back and to grind forward.

“Play your cards right,” Zane said. He kneaded muscle and nudged Eli closer, closer, closer still. “Do it. Give me your hand.”

How was Eli supposed to say no to that, especially when he wanted it enough to make him crazy? So strange. Yet not at all. Fuck, he'd never make sense of this. All he could do was act. He took a deep breath, exhaled it into Zane's mouth and undid the fastenings of Zane's jeans in a rush. Zane's cock filled the gap he'd made, rubbing up firm and scorching against Eli's palm. It jerked when they made contact, as Zane drew in a shocked gasp and then groaned.

“More,” he demanded. Begged. “Eli, please. More.”

“I've got you,” Eli said. In for a penny. In for a fuck. This was Zane falling apart beneath him, and he was the one who'd made it happen. Eli didn't have the words.

It still took courage to nudge Zane's snug-fitting boxer briefs down, to uncover sleek hips and, though he couldn't quite make himself look, to wrap his hand around hard flesh and squeeze. Zane swore, butted his head hard to Eli's chest, and, before Eli could process what was happening, came, spilling sticky heat over Eli's fingers that dripped back down over his belly.

No man could stand up to that. Eli let go to fumble at his jeans, realizing when he made contact that his fingers were wet with Zane's cum. The slick glide of that on his cock undid him too. He didn't have the presence of mind to guide the jets over Zane, but God almighty, he wished he had, and the thought of it made him grind his teeth together until his jaws creaked, made him come hard, wringing himself out.

He collapsed then, head thumping down on Zane's chest where he could smell sweat and cum and soap. “Christ,” he said, out of breath. Embarrassment hovered just beyond the horizon, barely staved off. For now.

“Third base on the first date,” Zane said, sounding stoned, lazily brushing at Eli's hair. “I guess I am that kind of girl after all.”

It made Eli laugh, exactly what Zane had no doubt intended. He found himself pressing a kiss over Zane's sternum. “You, my friend, are a strange man.”

“Guilty,” Zane said, satisfaction and afterglow drawing the word out into one long sigh. “Hypothesis confirmed, proved, rubber-stamped, and Viagra not needed. Not a fluke.”

Eli had sobered. He rubbed his thumb over Zane's stomach, smearing it in the last of the drying cum, rubbing it into Zane's skin. Zane grunted but let him do as he liked. “Not what I'd pictured,” he said, knowing Zane would understand him.

Zane chuckled lazily. “And what did you have in mind?”

“I honestly don't know.”

“Regrets?”

“No,” Eli said. It was only partially a lie. Okay, mostly a lie, but not for reasons he could or wanted to explain. It'd been…clumsy. Rushed. Heat and need and wham, bam, over. Not that that was a bad thing. Hot and heavy suited him fine.

Now, if he just had a practical clue about how to take it further…

Zane tweaked Eli's ear. “Quit thinking so hard. You're giving me a headache. C'mon. I have a decent bed. We should use it. I don't even mind being the little spoon.”

Eli snorted. “Now why doesn't that surprise me?” he asked, already doing as he'd been told. “Topping from the bottom. I can see how this is going to go already.”

“It's like you know me or something.” Zane took Eli by the hand and began to lead him from the room. Stopped, squeezing Eli's fingers startlingly tight. “Glad it was you,” he said. He pressed his forehead to Eli's. “Don't think it could have been anyone else.”

“Zane—”

“Shh.” Zane bit Eli's lip, a tiny, tantalizing nibble. “For once in your life, just take the compliment, would you?”