Just a Bit Heartless (Straight Guys, #13)

by Alessandra Hazard

“And hugs and cuddles aren’t?” Jordan said, stroking the side of Damiano’s torso. “It’s been scientifically proven that babies need physical touch and affection for normal development.” “I’m a grown man.” Yes, but you were a child once.

“Do you really not love anyone?” Jordan asked on the sixth or seventh day of their captivity—it was hard to tell for sure how much time had passed when one day bled into the next and Damiano was the only thing in his world. “I don’t,” Damiano said, his breath brushing against Jordan’s cheek. His answer sounded half-assed, as if it wasn’t the topic he was interested in and he wanted to move on to something else. “That seems… lonely.” Damiano didn’t say anything. “Don’t you believe in love?”

Jordan said. He wasn’t sure why he was pushing. He told himself he was just bored and conversation was the only way to pass the time, but the truth was, he burned to know more about this man, understand what had shaped him and made him tick.

Damiano Conte had never been so unsettled in his life, and the fact that he had been betrayed, kidnapped, and tortured had little to do with it. It was the American. He befuddled him. It’s not true that no one needs you. I do.

To keep anticipating the touch. To start wanting it. It irritated Damiano to no end, the craving he’d developed for something so pathetic, but it wasn’t as though he could put some distance between them when they were in a tiny basement little bigger than a bathroom.

Even if he does find out, it’s not your place to tell him. Stay out of it. Stay away. He’s not yours to take care of. He never was.

He was calm. He was calm and collected. He had nothing to be angry about.

“What about Raffaele?” he gritted out, his teeth sinking into his neck again. His voice became nasty as he said, “Your boyfriend?” Jordan shivered, giving him better access. He hoped there would be marks. “Don’t want him. Want you.”

He wanted it. He wanted him so badly. He wanted to eat Damiano alive, swallow him whole, consume him in ways that weren’t even possible.

His throat uncomfortably tight, Jordan traced Damiano’s features with a finger, trying to imprint them into memory. Damiano allowed him, just watching him with an intense, fixated expression, the intimacy of the moment gut-wrenching. He’d never felt closer to another person in his life. He’d never wanted to be even closer. Was there a way to be closer? If there was, Jordan wanted it. He couldn’t get enough. He would bottle up this man’s scent if he could. He would spend the rest of his life in this bed with him if he could.

“Don’t cry,” Damiano said tersely, a muscle jumping by his temple. “It’s not worth crying over.” I’m not worth crying over.

“I’m not crying,” Jordan said, blinking the moisture away.

“I know,” Jordan whispered. He closed his eyes, pressing his cheek against Damiano’s. Stay, he wanted to beg. It was his last thought as he drifted off. Stay.

Mine, the thing inside him said. Mineminemine.

Possession. Ownership.

He knew why, of course. He tried not to think about it, but he couldn’t lie to himself. He felt down because Christmas was about spending time with loved ones, and the person he wanted to see the most wouldn’t be around. It made him feel cold on the inside.

With need for this man. The need wasn’t even sexual, not truly, but it was the only way it could manifest, the only way it could be sated.

Damiano hummed and looked out the window. Jordan could no longer see his face, only the tight line of his sharp jawline. Then, his fingers moved, inching closer to Jordan’s, until they touched the back of his hand. His heart somewhere in his throat, Jordan stared at them before turning his hand and entangling their fingers. Christ, how could something so simple feel so intense?

There was nothing tying them together. Nothing but their messy feelings. Nothing permanent.

Don’t go, Jordan wanted to say. Come back to me, he wanted to say. I love you, he wanted to say. He said nothing, the words getting stuck somewhere in his throat, like a painful lump. His eyes wide, he could only watch as Damiano turned around and walked away. Three bodyguards appeared out of nowhere, following Damiano to the waiting car. They got in. Damiano paused for a moment, with his back to Jordan, before getting in the car too. The car took off. And Jordan was alone, again.

“Unbalanced and distracted—when you aren’t around. Obsessive, possessive, and out of control when you are. If this is love, it fucking sucks.”

great for an emotionally stunted asshole.” Damiano wrapped his arms around him. “But is it enough for you?” The words were hard to say. His throat felt like sandpaper. Am I enough? Jordan looked at him seriously. “It is,”

“I love you,” he said between kisses. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” Every word filled the deep, hungry pit in his chest that Damiano hadn’t even known existed.

I love you. He might not have been able to say the words, but he could show it. He would very much enjoy showing it.

“I love you,” Jordan murmured against his lips. Damiano pulled him closer and whispered, “I love you, too.” There was still a certain hesitance in his voice when he said it, as if he was getting away with something every time he said those words, as if he couldn’t possibly deserve to love and to be loved, and Jordan hugged him tightly and kissed him deeper, his heart so full with adoration and love that he was almost choking on it.