in his chair still, legs spread, wiping his hands on his pants, like they were sweating the way Marsh’s whole body felt like it was.
“Did you have a good night?” Greg asked.
Marsh gave a wry little laugh at that. “Good enough that I came back here at the end of it.” He crossed the space over to Greg and stood before him, but he didn’t touch, not yet. He was cemented in place, wanting and uncertain beneath the weight of Greg’s darkened stare. “You?”
Greg’s reply was just as wry. “Thrilling. Didn’t you notice?”
The guy was wound so tight, like there was something in him just dying to break free, and in that moment, Marsh wanted nothing more than to shake him up a little, to peel away everything that was keeping him hemmed in. Just like that, he was in motion. He was too damn big to be straddling people in desk chairs, but he made it work, climbing onto Greg to kneel over him, one leg bent up against the seat of the chair, thigh pressed to thigh, hips grazing, his other leg straight behind him so his foot anchored him to the floor. Greg’s breath caught, and Marsh leaned in, nudged his nose up against Greg’s cheek.
“I don’t know.” He slid a finger from Greg’s ear, down his throat, and lower to dip under the collar of his shirt, tracing a slow circle in the patch of hair there. Keeping his voice seductive, he murmured, “The giant, throbbing…vein in your temple might have been a clue.”
He smiled against Greg’s mouth as Greg let out a chuckle, and then another. The sound of his laughter was almost as good as the way his shoulders dropped an inch, his jaw unclenching. Voice more open than Marsh had really heard it before, Greg sighed and put a hand at the base of his spine. “How do you always make me feel better?”
That hit Marsh square in the chest, making him feel things he shouldn’t, not with someone like Greg. “I don’t know,” he said, struggling to put them back on solid ground. Back in the place where they always ended up, even though that wasn’t necessarily where he wanted to go. He purred and licked a stripe up the side of Greg’s neck. “Must be my charm.”
“Right.” Greg’s throat bobbed, a little of that tension returning, but he cupped Marsh’s ass and gripped the back of his neck, and yes, that was what Marsh had wanted earlier. This was what they were supposed to do.
Marsh let himself sink into the masculine body beneath his. Rubbed his hard dick up against the answering bulge in Greg’s jeans. He dragged his lips over stubble, and it felt so fucking good. “Sure you wouldn’t rather be working on…” he twisted until he could spot the title on one of those books, “…finite element analysis?” Whatever the fuck that was.
“Tempting.” Greg turned Marsh’s head back toward him, angling him for a kiss they were still hovering on the edge of, so close and not nearly close enough. “Didn’t think you’d come by tonight,” he grated out, and was that a flare of jealousy in his eyes?
Oh, Marsh could so get into that. Could take Greg being possessive and rough, had always wanted just that.
Greg’s hand tightened on Marsh’s neck and his voice went dark. “You smell like a bottle of perfume tried to make out with you.”
Fuck, Marsh did not want to think about that. “Maybe it did.” Marsh ground down on him, one quick press of his hips before he lifted up again, a hot pit of desire unfurling in him at the way Greg arched up into it. “But I’m here with you now, aren’t I?”
“Yeah, you are.” Greg touched his face, and it was so incongruous, the heat in his eyes and the brush of fingertips, so gentle they burned.
There were so many layers tucked up inside whatever Greg was trying to communicate, and Marsh didn’t come here for layers. He came here for something simple. He was good at simple. So he made it about sex again, about things he knew how to get as he pulled Greg’s hand from his face and put it with his other
“Did you have a good night?” Greg asked.
Marsh gave a wry little laugh at that. “Good enough that I came back here at the end of it.” He crossed the space over to Greg and stood before him, but he didn’t touch, not yet. He was cemented in place, wanting and uncertain beneath the weight of Greg’s darkened stare. “You?”
Greg’s reply was just as wry. “Thrilling. Didn’t you notice?”
The guy was wound so tight, like there was something in him just dying to break free, and in that moment, Marsh wanted nothing more than to shake him up a little, to peel away everything that was keeping him hemmed in. Just like that, he was in motion. He was too damn big to be straddling people in desk chairs, but he made it work, climbing onto Greg to kneel over him, one leg bent up against the seat of the chair, thigh pressed to thigh, hips grazing, his other leg straight behind him so his foot anchored him to the floor. Greg’s breath caught, and Marsh leaned in, nudged his nose up against Greg’s cheek.
“I don’t know.” He slid a finger from Greg’s ear, down his throat, and lower to dip under the collar of his shirt, tracing a slow circle in the patch of hair there. Keeping his voice seductive, he murmured, “The giant, throbbing…vein in your temple might have been a clue.”
He smiled against Greg’s mouth as Greg let out a chuckle, and then another. The sound of his laughter was almost as good as the way his shoulders dropped an inch, his jaw unclenching. Voice more open than Marsh had really heard it before, Greg sighed and put a hand at the base of his spine. “How do you always make me feel better?”
That hit Marsh square in the chest, making him feel things he shouldn’t, not with someone like Greg. “I don’t know,” he said, struggling to put them back on solid ground. Back in the place where they always ended up, even though that wasn’t necessarily where he wanted to go. He purred and licked a stripe up the side of Greg’s neck. “Must be my charm.”
“Right.” Greg’s throat bobbed, a little of that tension returning, but he cupped Marsh’s ass and gripped the back of his neck, and yes, that was what Marsh had wanted earlier. This was what they were supposed to do.
Marsh let himself sink into the masculine body beneath his. Rubbed his hard dick up against the answering bulge in Greg’s jeans. He dragged his lips over stubble, and it felt so fucking good. “Sure you wouldn’t rather be working on…” he twisted until he could spot the title on one of those books, “…finite element analysis?” Whatever the fuck that was.
“Tempting.” Greg turned Marsh’s head back toward him, angling him for a kiss they were still hovering on the edge of, so close and not nearly close enough. “Didn’t think you’d come by tonight,” he grated out, and was that a flare of jealousy in his eyes?
Oh, Marsh could so get into that. Could take Greg being possessive and rough, had always wanted just that.
Greg’s hand tightened on Marsh’s neck and his voice went dark. “You smell like a bottle of perfume tried to make out with you.”
Fuck, Marsh did not want to think about that. “Maybe it did.” Marsh ground down on him, one quick press of his hips before he lifted up again, a hot pit of desire unfurling in him at the way Greg arched up into it. “But I’m here with you now, aren’t I?”
“Yeah, you are.” Greg touched his face, and it was so incongruous, the heat in his eyes and the brush of fingertips, so gentle they burned.
There were so many layers tucked up inside whatever Greg was trying to communicate, and Marsh didn’t come here for layers. He came here for something simple. He was good at simple. So he made it about sex again, about things he knew how to get as he pulled Greg’s hand from his face and put it with his other
Similar Books
