“So there’s, umm …” he whispers. “There’s one thing that I … that if I die, I’d sort of like to do first.”

Fuck. Just his voice and stare is enough for my nipples to harden. I really, really need Perry to stop looking at me like that, and then I need him to get the hell out of my room so I can jerk off again.

Big, sweet, and beautifully dopey. I have no idea why my body has decided it’s suddenly obsessed with him, but I guess this is the torture I’m dealing with until further notice.

“St. Clare?”

Was he talking? “Yeah?”

“Do … do you want to know what that is?”

I have to kick-start my brain to remember what he said. “The thing you want to do before you die?” I internally cringe at the way I word that, but fuck it. My brain is at half capacity, and I’m glad I have the sheets pulled up over my waist because the tent I’m pitching would be enough to poke out his eye.

“Yeah.”

“What is it?”

His hand tightens around mine, and he looks half-terrified, half-hopeful as he says, “I’ve never kissed a man before.”

“Oh.” The confession steals all the breath from my lungs.

“And I’d really like to kiss you.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

PERRY

My gut is churning with the seas of a thousand nerves. I’ve never felt like I could simultaneously cry and throw up, but as I send myself light-headed waiting for his response, I’m dangerously close to either one of those things.

St. Clare’s pretty bowed lips have parted enough to see where his bottom lip is shiny with spit. I want to lean in and taste it. To run my tongue over that lip before pushing into his mouth. I’ve been in this position before—this consuming, lustful state—but never with another guy, and finally being on the edge of the experience is a relief as much as it is terrifying.

All it took was my potential murder to get me here.

I’m half-hard and hopeful. Sort of want to beg, but I won’t because that would be weird. Probably. But as St. Clare goes on for longer and longer without an answer, the urge gets stronger. I’m just one man, dammit.

“You want to kiss me?” he finally asks.

“Ah, yeah. I think so.”

“It’s more of a yes or no answer, Perry.” His voice has deepened and sounds raw, as raw as I feel.

“Y-yes.” I can’t stop the way my voice shakes. I really, really do want this, but admitting I want it is hard. The familiar instinct to suppress is strong, and I’m fighting that as much as I’m fighting the urge to get on my knees, ready to see his dick one time.