Chapter 9: Closed Door

The bed in the middle of Averett's bedroom was made with square corners and not a crease.

He had never been in it with another person.

He found that out in the first minute.

He stood at the foot of it in the dark while Jarek's weight came up behind him.

A hand settled at the back of his neck.

"Look at me," Jarek said.

He turned.

Jarek kissed him again, slower than in the elevator, in a room with a door that locked.

Averett's back found the bedpost.

Jarek's mouth moved along his jaw, down the side of his throat, and stopped over the pulse, and Averett's knees went weak.

"Careful," Jarek murmured against his skin. "I'm not very good at this part."

"You seem fine," Averett said.

"I'm good at wanting. I'm not good at stopping."

"Then don't," Averett said.

"I'll decide that."

The words were soft, and something in Averett's stomach turned over at the command in them.

He did not want to be argued out of it.

Jarek's hands found the hem of his T-shirt and slid underneath.

They were hot on his bare ribs, the callused thumbs tracing the lowest rib, then the one above, then the hollow where his waist narrowed.

It was a new place to be touched, and Averett's breath came out of him in a shudder.

"You're shaking," Jarek said.

"Don't stop," Averett said.

"Say it properly."

"Keep your hands on me."

The shirt came off over his head.

He stood bare-chested in his own room, flushed to the collarbone, while Jarek looked at him for a long time.

"Look at you," Jarek said, almost to himself.

Averett reached for the buttons of Jarek's shirt.

His fingers trembled, and the first one would not come out of its hole.