Their tongues slid, Dag nipped Chris’s bottom lip then licked it, sucked his tongue into his mouth until Chris gasped. “Jesus.”

This was probably another fucking huge mistake he was going to regret, but he couldn’t stop now, couldn’t stop breathing, couldn’t stop his heart from beating, couldn’t stop kissing Chris.

He’d dreamed of this. He’d beaten off thinking about this, he’d fucked other men pretending they were Chris. He’d wanted this, always, this man, with everything he had–his body, his heart, his soul. With a long, deep groan, he rolled, pushing Chris’s heavy body off him, moving over him. His cock surged to life, and he pressed against Chris’s pelvis as he kissed him again and again, brutal, ferocious kisses of pent-up need and repressed longing.

“Fuck you,” he whispered again against Chris’s mouth. “I don’t know whether to love you or hate you.”

“I’m leaning toward hating you right now,” Chris gasped.

“Don’t try to tell me you didn’t want that. Jesus, you are so fucking stubborn.”

Chris said nothing.

Dag looked down at him, their chests heaving against each other.

“Christ, Chris. Don’t do this to me.”

“I don’t know what the fuck I want! All right?”

They stared back at each other, silence expanding around them, only the sound of their rasping breaths filling the room, Chris’s green eyes wide, his lips wet and shiny.

Fuck he was gorgeous. Dag closed his eyes briefly against the sight, and against the mix of emotions swirling in Chris’s eyes–denial, confusion, arousal.

Chris finally said, “Get the hell off me.”

“No.” And Dag kissed him again. Long, sliding kisses, savoring the feel of Chris’s mouth under his, Chris’s tongue in his mouth, in case this was the last time, the only time he ever got to do this. He cupped Chris’s jaw, slid his other hand into his hair, the strands short and silky, his skull large and firm beneath.

Dag’s cock throbbed insistently, sensation sizzling over his flesh, need stabbing into his balls in sharp, hot spears. Fiery heat built inside him and he rocked his hips urgently against Chris, shifting so he could feel…oh yeah, Chris was hard too. He might be confused or in denial or who the hell knew what he was feeling, but his body wanted this even if he didn’t.

Dag shoved Chris’s suit jacket out of the way so there was less fabric between their hot skin, slid a hand down and rubbed Chris’s erection, straining beneath the fly of his trousers.

“Jesus,” he breathed into Chris’s mouth. “You’re so fucking hard.”

Chris groaned, turned his head away from Dag’s mouth. “Dag…”

“You want this.”

Dag moved his weight until his aching hard-on pressed against Chris, and he rubbed and shifted against him, sensation building inside him, tighter and hotter. He could come like this, just like this, not even inside him, just being with him…and he could make him come too.

But he couldn’t do it. Not like this.

He groaned and rolled off Chris onto his back on the floor, his cock throbbing, his lungs straining. He stared at the ceiling, at the stippled texture of the white plaster.

“We have to talk,” he finally said. He should sit up, but he didn’t move.

Finally Chris rolled over and got to his knees. “Yeah. Get up.” He rubbed flushed cheeks, swiped a hand over his brow. “Tell me. Tell me about it.”

Dag stared back at him, heart pounding. Could he do it? Ever since they’d met years ago, he’d wanted this, but had so feared losing Chris’s friendship that he’d locked it away inside him. Locked it away and thrown away the key.

He pushed himself to sitting and they sat there on the floor, clothes rumpled, hair messed, breathing rapidly. “Aw, fuck, Chris.” He sucked in a long breath of courage. “I fell in love with you right from the start,” he confessed in a low voice. “It just happened.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“I never knew, man.”

“I know. It’s okay. I wouldn’t have told you because…I valued our friendship. I didn’t want to lose that. You were such a lazy-ass slacker, I don’t know why I cared about you.”

“Musta been my good looks.”

Dag’s heart stuttered and he choked on a laugh at Chris’s unexpected joke. “Yeah, right.” His smile faded. “I never wanted you to know.”

“Had you been with…guys before?”

“Yeah. Some.”

“I never knew that.”

“I know. You made it pretty clear that disgusted you.”

Chris bent his head. “Uh. That’s not exactly true.”

Dag stared at the top of Chris’s head. “What do you mean?”

Kassidy sat in the condo, alone. She should make some dinner. Chris was late, really late, but he still might show up, and she should eat anyway, even if he didn’t, but the thought of food just made her stomach heave.

He hadn’t returned her calls or responded to her text message. She had no idea what was going on. Was he pissed off at her for bugging him? Or for going home without him? Had he gone to see Dag?

She gazed at the three creamy pillar candles on the coffee table, sitting on the pretty carved dark wood holders Dag had picked out. The rule of three. Heat flashed in her chest.

She rose to her feet, wandered into their bedroom and flopped down on the bed, facedown, breathing in the sheets that still smelled like Chris and Dag, their masculine scents mingled with fabric softener and her own scent. Tears prickled her eyes and she stubbornly fought them back. She’d cried enough goddamn tears over this.

She rolled to her back.

Had she had some crazy idea that she could love both of them, and they’d love her back and they’d live happily ever after? Who did such a thing?

It probably happened more often than people knew. Nobody would talk about it though.

But it was crazy.

And she’d been crazy stupid to fall in love with Dag, because he’d likely only used her so he could be with Chris. Another knife sliced through her at that thought. She’d really thought he’d cared about her—once again, crazy stupid.

She remembered the tenderness of his touch, the warmth in his eyes as he looked at her, the affection and passion in his voice. She’d thought that had been for her. But it had all been for Chris. He’d come back for Chris.

She squeezed her eyes shut, though, remembering Dag looking at her like that. God, she was confused. But maybe this pain and misery, maybe losing everything was what she deserved. She was a good girl and she’d done bad things. Now she deserved whatever she got.

After several heavy beats of silence, Chris lifted his head and met Dag’s eyes. Anguish tightened his features, the corners of his eyes, his mouth, his square jaw. “When I was fourteen years old, my dad caught me…fooling around with another guy. My friend Cam.”

Dag sucked in a breath. “Jesus.”

“We were young, horny, hormonal–attracted to each other on some level, I guess, but too young and stupid to know what was going on. Things got hot and heavy and my dad walked in on us–holy fucking shit, did he flip out. I thought he was going to have a heart attack.”

Dag had met Chris’s parents a couple of times. His dad was a really nice guy but definitely a straight-laced conservative, stern and uncompromising. No doubt where Chris got his stubbornness from.

“He beat the crap out of me,” Chris continued in a low voice. “Really worked me over. He and my mom didn’t speak for weeks over it. He wouldn’t tell her why, and neither would I.”

Dag felt his stomach drop. Chris’s upbringing had seemed so privileged, so normal. He would never in a million years have thought his old man had ever beat him.

Chris’s gaze met Dag’s. “I swore I’d never do that again. You can imagine the effect that had on a teenage kid.”

“Uh. Yeah.” Shit. Dag’s heart constricted. Then he gave a crooked grin. “That just shows the difference between us, huh? If that’d happened to me with my old man, I’d’ve been out screwing every guy in sight. Just to defy him. In fact…” He shrugged. “Maybe that’s what I was doing.” He met Chris’s eyes. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”