Chapter 16

Justin, barefoot and bare-legged under the skirt, lay spread out in the middle of their bed and smiled like seduction. Kris lay down beside him, put a hand into his hair, and drew him into a kiss.

Justin kissed almost the same way as before: a little more gingerly, but still himself, sweet and giving and inviting, tasting of toothpaste—he’d brushed his teeth, Kris realized; this suggestion of planning sent a shiver of affection down his spine—and unafraid to be given over to plundering. The kiss stayed drawn-out, leisurely, a promise; but that felt right too, drenched in gratefulness and joy and heady rediscovery.

Justin pulled back enough to murmur, “One more surprise,” and reached for Kris’s hand and slid it up along his own thigh. Kris encountered nothing but smooth skin, laughed, turned the laughter into a nuzzle under Justin’s jaw, above the leather that made a loop of love. “So you’re the sort to not wear anything underneath, are you?”