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But Stavros simply parted his lips and licked the gun.
“Because I’m afraid that what I feel for him might burn brighter, hotter, than what I felt for her.”
He needed Stavros.
“You fucked up by walking away from me,” Stavros told him.
“But I fucked up more,” he said when they stood chest to chest. “Letting you think distance between us was an option.”
“Then don’t fucking try to leave me again.”
That smell was his. It belonged to him. As did Stavros.
“She can’t have you. I need you—” His voice broke. “I need you more.” Head bowed, he slid his fingers over Daniel’s. “I need you more.”
He wanted Stavros. His Greek made everything better.
