The silky threads of Aaron’s hair flowed across his hand and through his fingers. Why did he let Simon talk him into driving Aaron home?
“I don’t even feel a bump. You must have a hard head.”
“I have something that’s hard,” Aaron said in a husky suggestive voice.
Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look. Wren clenched his jaw and picked Aaron up, keeping his eyes glued to the man’s pixie face, with his full lips and adorable matching dimples. “You need to sleep,” Wren stated firmly, walking into the bedroom off the bathroom. To say it was a mess was putting it mildly. Clothes were strewn everywhere. The drawers on the dresser along one wall were all open with shirts and pants half pulled out. The bed that took up the center of the room was unmade. The cheesiest lamp covered by a sheer cloth sat on a nightstand that was littered with photos of Aaron with friends, some Wren recognized as guys from the Fire station and paramedics.
“You know something that would help me sleep? Sex. Yes, that always works,” Aaron suggested. The warm brush of Aaron’s lips on the side of his neck nearly had him dropping Aaron. Wren couldn’t control the shudder that resulted or the way his cock hardened.
“No,” Wren rasped, then cleared his throat. “No,” he said more firmly, setting Aaron on the bed.
“One of these days, Wren Tucker—” Aaron turned to his side, pillowing his head with his bent arm, Aaron’s eyes slide closed and he murmured, “I’m going to get to you.”
~ Above is an excerpt from Lost in the Fire (Firehouse Six book #5).
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