Let Love Live (The Love Series #5) (10 page)

I let myself in and took the stairs two at a time up to his room. There was music playing, but not loud enough that he didn’t hear me earlier. I knocked, not wanting to scare the shit out of him, or disrespect him, by just barging in.

“Dyl, open up. It’s me.” I leaned my shoulder up against the wall and crossed my arms over my chest, waiting for him to let me in.

Rather than opening the door, he spoke through it. “Why should I?”

“Because I’m an asshole and I need to tell you some things.” Relief washed over me as the door opened.

I’d been in Dylan’s room countless times over the years. We’d played video games for hours on end right there on his bed – hell, I’d slept on his floor more times than I could remember. Yet somehow, being in his room at that moment, with the words I needed to say, with the words I knew he needed to hear on the tip of my tongue, his room felt strangely new and exciting.

He sat on the edge of his bed, and I flopped into his desk chair, noticing that his journal was wide open on his desk. He must have been writing while he was busy ignoring me. His stare pinned me to the spot; a glacial air filled the room and I couldn’t fathom why he was so pissed off over what seemed to me like nothing important at all.

“Why didn’t you let me in before?” I asked when the tension reached a breaking point.

He chuckled a snide puff of laughter. He leveled me with his gaze, crossing his arms across his chest. “The better question is why haven’t
you
let me in?”

In that instant, I choked on my words. “I– I mean… I have… I thought… I didn’t mean…” I scrubbed a hand over my face, trying desperately to grasp onto something that I could say to save this.

To save us.

I took a deep breath. “No. You’re right. I haven’t let you in.” Dylan continued to stare at me, obviously needing more than a one-sentence explanation as to why I’ve been reluctant to name this thing between us.

“Not gonna get off the hook that easily, huh?” He shook his head, and even though he tried to hide it, I saw him crack the tiniest of smiles. “Okay, then. Here goes.” I stood from the chair and paced the room, hoping the words would somehow magically appear if I moved.

Raking my hands through my hair, I pulled on the ends, more than frustrated at my own feelings. “I know you’re pissed about what you saw with Sammy before.” He laughed and I walked toward him. “Just listen, please.” He looked up with me with his big blue eyes and my chest hurt at seeing the anger there. I sank to the floor in front of him, pulling his hands into mine.

“This last month hasn’t been easy for me. You’ve forced me to face things that I’ve kept hidden about myself for a long fucking time, forever, it feels like. It scares the fucking shit out of me, but when I’m with you…” My words trailed off and I sank back on my calves, angling away from him a little.

“You’re what?” His words were barely above a whisper and his hands flew in the air, tossing mine to the side.

“When I’m with you, I’m not… I’m not scared. I’m not worried.” Even though they were shaking, I grabbed for his hands again, lacing our fingers together as they rested on his thighs. “The truth is that when I’m with you,” I sat up again, wiggling my way in-between his legs and laced my arms around his waist. Pressing my cheek up against his warm, solid chest, I whispered, “When I’m with you, I’m happy.”

“You’re happy sneaking around?” He arched an eyebrow.

I shook my head, trying to shake away a world of troubles. It didn’t work. “No. I’m not happy sneaking around and I know I’ve kept you at arm’s length, but it’s just too much.”

Dylan rested his chin on top of my head and squeezed me tightly as he released a deep exhale. I felt his body relax against me as he pressed his lips to my hair. “I’m happy, too.” I moved from the floor to his side on the bed, angling toward him. “Why haven’t you told me this before, though?” Dylan asked.

“I don’t know. I mean, this is a lot to take in.”

“It’s been almost a month.” His words took on a frustrated tone.

“Yeah, I know. We’ve been together a few weeks, but you’ve known you’re gay for far longer than that. You’ve had time to work it all out in your head.”

“Yeah, right. You think I have this all figured out?” He shot up from the bed, clearly frustrated, his arms flailing to the side. “I don’t have shit figured out!” Silently, he stood brooding in front of his window. I waited a minute before I walked over to him, wrapped my arms around him from behind. His body tensed and it put me on guard.

“Is this okay?” I asked nervously, not sure if I was crossing a line that hadn’t yet been mended. He turned around in the circle of my arms and since we were roughly the same height our lips were near touching.

His eyes softened as the tension simply vanished. “Of course it’s okay. It’s what I want. I wish you would make the first move every now and then. I feel like you don’t want this.”

I paused, hoping my words would convey the emotion I was feeling. “No. I want this. I’m just trying to figure out what it all means, how it changes things, who it makes me. But even with all of that shit,” I brushed back a few strands of hair that always flopped in his eye, “I know that I want you, even though I’m not always great at showing it.”

With the pad of my thumb, I brushed his lower lip and then held his jaw in my hand. When he leaned into my touch, a feeling of calm moved through me. I moved in and kissed his cheek, nibbled across his lightly dusted-in-scruff jawline, and licked the outer shell of his ear. A low moan of appreciation vibrated between us and I wasn’t sure from whose chest it came.

Attacking his lips, I needed to taste him, needed to know we were okay. It was a rough kiss. My fingers dug into his back, clawing, grasping onto him. He did the same, never letting me move more than an inch away from him.

“When are your parents coming home?” I muttered breathlessly against his lips.

His hands dove into my hair, pulling my face to the side as he pressed his lips against my neck. “Not till five. We’ve got time.” Pushing me back, we stumbled toward the bed. My knees hit the mattress, but before I could fall backward, I turned us around so that he fell beneath me.

Dylan lay there, shocked and wide-eyed at the forwardness of my move. I grabbed the hem of my shirt and in one, long, painfully slow drag from behind, I pulled it over my head. Dylan watched it fall to the floor next to me as he swallowed hard.

“It’s my turn to make the first move.” I pressed my body into his as he sank further into the mattress. His hard cock pulsed against mine as we moved in a perfectly erratic rhythm. Dylan’s hands roamed all over my body – scratching angry red lines across my back, gently ghosting whisper-soft fingertips across my chest. “More,” his voice trembled.

He must have seen me deliberate for a moment longer than I should have. Roughly, he grabbed my face and attacked my mouth. There was so much hunger, so much desperation in that kiss; his words weren’t needed, but he said them anyway.

“Stop. Now. Just stop thinking. We wouldn’t be doing this,” his eyes roved down to our writhing bodies before holding my anxious stare, “if it wasn’t right. We wouldn’t be doing this if we didn’t feel something. So just feel it.” He pushed his cock up against mine and I swore I could feel it pulse and lengthen even more, despite the fabric separating us.

His mouth crashed into mine again and I kissed him back with everything I couldn’t say – the words just didn’t exist in my mind, yet. I shoved his shirt up and over his head, and grew at least another fucking inch as my eyes roved over every inch of his perfect chest. I was straddling his hips, but the sight of him half-naked beneath me made me lean back, just so I could devour him with my eyes.

“You see me without my shirt all the time in the locker room.” His words had this breathlessness about them that made my mouth go dry.

“Yeah, but it’s different now.” He shifted underneath me, pulling himself up so I was essentially straddling his lap.

He drifted his fingers through my hair, sending a river of goose bumps to flow across my skin. “Nothing’s different. And that’s the best part. We’re still us, except now we’re actually being honest.” He paused at my confused look. “With ourselves.” He kissed me softly, more tenderly than he ever had in any of our stolen moments. “And with each other.” He pulled back marginally and made sure I was still with him. “Shane…it’s always been you. I may not have been confused over being gay, but falling in lo…I mean wanting your best friend when you’re not sure that
he’s
gay, that shit fucks with your head. But I know how I feel, now.” The bastard chose that moment to reach between us and stroke my cock.

I couldn’t form words at the feel of his hand gripping me over the fabric of my pants. I arched my back; my head fell between my shoulders and I flinched when his fingers lightly danced along my exposed neck. “This is fucking sexy as anything,” he growled as he lightly brushed his fingers over my Adam’s apple.

“Can I?” he asked as his fingers trembled at the button of my jeans. The subtle nod of my head was all he needed to not only unbutton and unzip, but to pull the waistband down over my hips, too, leaving me in just my boxers before him. He outlined my length with his finger before gripping me with my strong fingers.

“Fuuuuck, Dyl,” I growled and shoved myself shamelessly into his hand. His other hand went around my neck again as he pulled us back down on the bed. We rolled to our sides, and I repaid him the favor of getting rid of his jeans as well. Dylan toyed with the edge of my boxers, forcing me to bite my tongue, to swallow back my desire for more.

And then a single finger dipped behind the thin cotton fabric, brushing the ready-to-explode tip of my cock. “Yeah, I thought so.” He grinned proudly as he spread the bead of moisture around. “These need to go.” He smirked as he playfully snapped the elastic waistband.

I don’t know if it was my desire to feel more of his touch, or my desire to touch him in return, but I nodded, and in an instant, my boxers were on the floor. He fused his mouth to mine and he stroked my shaft, root to tip and back again, over and over until I was right on the edge of my control.

“Dyl…fuck.” I lost all sense of control when he gently cupped my sac, lightly scraping his short nails over the pulled-tight skin.

I’d felt this feeling a million times before, but tingling gathering at the base of my spine was different now. It was a huge. It meant more than coming.

It meant something else entirely.

To say I was hurt and surprised when I felt Shane pull back from my hand would be an understatement. He didn’t want this. I was pushing him too fast. This was too much, too soon for him. He would leave and that would be the last of whatever this thing was that was brewing between us. Anxiety and sadness bloomed dreadfully in my chest, but I bit those feelings back and attacked his mouth instead.

When he kissed me back with just as much intensity, I felt like I could breathe again. But it didn’t stop me from making sure he was okay. “You still with me?” His hazel eyes were hooded with lust; a storm of desire brewed there as I continued to lightly stroke him.