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“To truly break a man, there are certain lines one must cross.” Daniel dropped his hand, putting it back in his pocket. “Lucky for both of us, I crossed those lines decades ago.”
Kiss me. Kill me. I don’t care. It no longer matters. “He might not ask, but he wants your forgiveness. And he might not tell you outright, but he’ll gladly walk into your blade.”
“I’m looking at you,” Stavros whispered. “And I can barely breathe.”
“I can leave,” Daniel whispered at his ear. “But it doesn’t matter how far or how fast I run.” The truth roughened his already destroyed voice. “I’ll always come back.”
“Diablo.” Stavros fisted his hands. “I’ve never been tethered,” he said in a hoarse voice. “I’m forty-two years old, and I’ve never had someone feel for me what I feel for them. I’ve never been someone’s anchor, never had someone be that for me.” He spun then, found Daniel a touch away and nearly reached for him. Nearly. “I have never been given a chance, because no one chose me.” He trembled, that ice becoming increasingly unsteady under his weight. “I’m not the person you go to for forever. I wouldn’t go to me for forever. But you—” He touched Daniel then.
He’d never made love to someone he loved, who loved him.
His lover matched him stroke for stroke, hand on his ass, fingers digging in. He better leave his marks.
Yes, leave them marks honey!
“I expect you to love me like I love you,” he whispered into that kiss. “I expect you to do right by me, because I will do right by you.” Stavros shuddered. His grip on Daniel faltered. “I expect you to take care of my heart, diablo, because I will take care of yours.”
