Zach’s mouth tasted warm and darkly rich from both the wine and the steak. The softness of Zach’s lips, the lush and tranquil shushing sound of the waves, all coalesced, providing unexpected, yet perfect pleasure. Then Zach’s tongue slid inside his mouth, robbing Sam of his breath and ability to think straight at all.
When he decided to join Henry this weekend, Sam had no expectation he’d find anyone to pique his interest. He’d figured it would be a boring conference filled with computer people spouting off gibberish. Finding Zach by accident at the bar was pure luck on his part.
Standing here now, kissing Zach, his body humming with need, skin hot despite the coolness of the night air, for the first time in months, Sam wanted someone. Deeply, viscerally, so much so that he hoped they could make it back upstairs before he lost control.
“My room or yours?” He spoke against the corner of Zach’s mouth, the silk of Zach’s shirt sliding up underneath his hands, so Sam could touch the warm, smooth skin of his back.
“Let’s do mine,” whispered Zach.
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