“I mean, if you’d rather…” I nodded toward his room.
“I’m cool staying. I just don’t want to be in your hair, you know?”
“You’re good. Promise.”
He held my gaze like he didn’t quite believe me, but he finally shrugged, and I had to work at it to keep my relief under the surface. It was stupid—we’d be back in the car tomorrow, so it wasn’t like we weren’t going to see each other—but I’d take all the time with him I could get.
The room had a couple of chairs by the window, but they weren’t all that comfortable, and neither of us could see the TV very well. So, we moved to the bed. When our food arrived, we spread out the sandwich wrappers to keep from making a mess, and we ate while we watched…something. I couldn’t pay enough attention to follow what was happening on the screen or even remember what it was we were watching. I barely tasted my sandwich.
All I could think was…
He’s right there. He’s on my bed. Oh my God, Marques is on my bed.
It was an illusion, and I knew that. We were dressed. We weren’t touching. Only one of us was even available. But it still fucked with my head something fierce.
I didn’t want to get on Tinder anymore. I just wanted him. I couldn’t have him, and I knew that, but it didn’t stop me from pining after him and wishing like hell we were on the same wavelength.
Goddammit.
I really should have dated you when I had the chance.
Chapter 8
Marques & Armin
Marques
I closed my door, leaned against it, and squeezed my eyes shut. This trip was going to drive me insane. Literally insane. I was supposed to spend another three, maybe four days in that SUV with Armin and not lose my mind? How?
Just sitting in his room and eating dinner had driven me up a wall.
Did he have any idea how sexy he was, lounging back on his bed like that? Or how much it had fucked with my head to be in the same bed with him? Didn’t matter that we’d been fully dressed and on top of the covers. We’d been closer than ever to a whole lot of my fantasies. A well-timed glance, a ballsy reach across the space between us, and things could’ve gotten amazingly out of hand.
Still leaning against the door, I slid a hand down over the front of my jeans and bit back a groan. At least I hadn’t been this hard when I’d been in room thirty-two. A few times, I’d let my mind wander, and my dick had responded, but with the sandwich wrapper spread across my lap or my drink held just right had kept it out of sight.
I didn’t have to hide my hard-on now, and who the hell was going to catch me if I did something about it?
So I pushed myself off the door, toed off my shoes, and sat back against the headboard, trying my damnedest—and failing—not to think about the fact that Armin’s headboard was just on the other side of the wall.
Armin
Now that Marques had gone back to his room, I couldn’t take it anymore. We’d been together all day, and then we’d been on the same bed while we’d eaten dinner and watched…whatever it the hell we’d had on TV.
Closing my eyes, I let my head fall back against the headboard as I unzipped my pants. As soon as I had my cock in my hands, I sighed with preemptive relief. Just a few strokes was all it would take, and then I’d—
A muffled squeak came through the wall. Marques settling into bed? Oh fuck, was he naked? I decided he was, and I exhaled hard as I pumped myself. The urge to jerk off fast was strong, but damn it, now that I had that mental image of him on the other side of the wall, I wanted this to last. I wanted to take my time getting off while Marques was quite possibly just inches away from me and completely, beautifully naked.
I’d seen him in swim trunks when some gallery employees spent an afternoon at the beach, and I’d played my worst game of volleyball ever because of dark skin and sculpted shoulders and a perfect waist and…
Fuck. His ass had been gorgeous in those red shorts. Naked? Oh, I could only imagine, and I was imagining it now as I stroked myself.
I didn’t stop there, though. In my mind I was