the sentence, but Gus seemed to understand what I meant, because he threw his arms around me and hugged me fiercely.
“Holden. Oh, Holden, I am so, so sorry that this happened. I am so sorry that you have been carrying this guilt around all these years. I’m not trying to tell you how to feel, but I promise you, what happened to Aggie is not your fault.”
“I’m the reason she got in that car,” I said, sobbing into his shoulder.
“You can’t blame yourself. She’s still the one who chose to get in it.”
“I’m the reason she was drunk. The reason she was using.”
“You can’t take responsibility for that either. She made her own choices.”
“If I could have just been honest.”
“I’m sorry,” Gus whispered, rubbing a circle into my back with his hand. “I’m so sorry that it happened, but it’s not your fault.”
I felt like my insides were tearing themselves apart, trying to claw their way out of my body so they didn’t have to listen. I wanted to believe Gus—wanted it so badly—but I wasn’t sure I could.
“I’m so sorry, Holden.” His lips were next to my ear, his scent overwhelming my senses. He was so close, but I still needed more.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered again, and somehow, I was kissing him, my hands tangling in his hair, fisting his shirt. “I’m so sorry.”
Gus repeated the words like a mantra, and the more he said it, the more I felt my walls come down. It wasn’t like he actually had the power to absolve me of guilt, but at that moment, I was so tired of holding him at bay.
Tired of feeling so alone.
He bit down on my lower lip, tugged it out and released it. He was like quicksilver, his hands twenty different places at once. He pushed me onto my back, pulling off his towel and then mine, and then straddled me.
“I don’t suppose you brought any of those condoms up here,” he asked.
“No,” I said with a little pang. It was probably better in the long run, but right now I wished I’d had the forethought to bring them up. “I left the basket in my studio.”
“Too far,” Gus muttered. “I’m not waiting that long.”
I started to protest that I didn’t have lube up here either, and it wasn’t like I’d been tested, and as much as I wanted to fuck him, this was a terrible idea, when he brought his hand to my cock and began to stroke me. Mid-sentence, I lost the ability to form words.
He was so sure of himself, and he looked like he was enjoying touching me almost as much as I was. I began to wonder what I’d missed out on, not letting him use his hands that first night.
But then he slid down and took me in his mouth and I was reminded of just how good he was at that as well. Hot and wet and tight, Gus sucked up and down on my shaft before pulling off and lying next to me on the bed, on his stomach.
“Get on top of me,” he commanded.
“Gus, I don’t—we don’t even have lube.”
“I need to feel you on me. Put it between my thighs.” He stroked my shaft once more and honestly, it wasn’t like I was going to protest.
I was on top of him in an instant, reveling in the sight of his slim body underneath me. My cock slid perfectly in between his legs and he whimpered as I thrust forward. It wasn’t what I really wanted, but it was a damn good substitute, and Gus quivered underneath me just like I was fucking his hole instead.
“God, yes,” he moaned. “Give it to me.”
It wasn’t long before I was at the edge. I’d been hard since I rimmed him in the bath. Hell, I’d been hard since I got him naked. I’d probably get hard around Gus if he were wearing a parka and snow-pants and six layers of long underwear.
I thrust faster, the precum leaking from my tip slicking the passageway between his thighs. My balls made an absolutely filthy, wet, smacking sound against his ass. Watching his cheeks shake, I reached out and gave them a light spank before I could stop myself.
Gus groaned deliciously. “Do it again.”
Fuck. He’d fallen today when we were running away. He was still recovering from a shoulder injury. He had nightmares every night about getting beaten up by kidnappers. The last thing I should have been doing was spanking