Just a Bit Heartless (Straight Guys, #13)

by Alessandra Hazard

Damiano chuckled. “You’re positively adorable.” Maybe he’d misheard. “Pardon?” Jordan said, without looking at him. It took everything in him not to look at him. He felt the other man lean closer to him and then murmur close to his ear, “It’s adorable how you pretend not to be interested when spying on me is the main reason you’re here.”

“If you really loved him, you wouldn’t look at me like you want to choke on my cock.”

Damiano scowled, rubbing his face against the other man’s throat. He felt his pulse against his mouth. He wanted to bite, sink his teeth there until he reached blood, until he could taste him and find out what he was made of.

Damiano’s face did something strange: a tight, pinched look, his eyes all pissy and angry, before he stepped forward and shoved his face into Jordan’s neck.

“As you say, let’s cut the bullshit. You did it because you’re an emotionally stunted control freak who got a little bit attached and doesn’t know how to express his affections in a healthy way.”

“I can’t stand this,” he said at last, his voice barely audible. “I hate the way you got me all twisted up and irrational. This is not me.” He sucked hard on Jordan’s jawline. “You’re right: giving you bodyguards was irrational. But it was something I could control. Knowing how you’re doing. It helped, a little.”

The problem was, his desire to fuck Jordan didn’t really stem from his cock. It was a twisted, insane desire to possess, a desire for closeness and ownership that happened to affect his cock too. He wanted to devour him, to tear into his heart and burrow his way inside. Even during his last visit, the rush he got from coming all over Jordan’s thighs had little to do with physical pleasure and everything to do with his desire to own him, to mark him up, to brand him as his. He felt like a dog that wanted to piss all over his territory. It was utterly disgusting—and utterly dangerous.

They gazed at each other in silence, both of them panting. Don’t go, Jordan wanted to say. Come back to me, he wanted to say. I love you, he wanted to say.

“Oh.” The light in Jordan’s eyes dimmed, and Damiano hated it. He wanted those blue eyes to be alight with affection, always. He was addicted to the way Jordan looked at him—as if he were worth loving. As if he were a better man than he was.

He didn’t care about people. Most people were just tools for him. He felt no remorse about hurting people. Except this one. This one was precious. This one was his. This one made him feel.

Damiano felt his ears turn hot. “Love is always depicted as a nice, sweet feeling in the movies. What I feel for you isn’t sweet. It isn’t nice. Sometimes I almost hate you for turning me into this. For making me—for making me need another person. For wanting to be a better person than I am. I don’t like it—the way you make me feel.”

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,” he said, his voice soft. “I’d prefer your fucked-up version of love to the sweetest, most conventional love lavished on me by another person. Because it’s you. And you’re more than enough. You’re what I need to feel enough.”