Him (Him, #1)

by Sarina Bowen

The fact that he’d been the first guy I ever loved and the one who made me face some terrifying things about myself…well, all that will go unsaid.

Fuck, he’d looked good. Really good. All golden-boy California hotness, big and blond and sexy as fuck. With those soulful brown eyes—surprising on a blond guy. It’s an understated sexiness, though. Jamie Canning never flaunted his looks in all the time I’d known him. Sometimes I think he’s not even aware of how goddamn attractive he is.

He doesn’t get to finish that sentence, because I’m smashing my mouth against his.

“Your tongue ring…” His voice is hoarse with excitement. “I want to feel it on my cock.”

Earlier, I told him he’d acted like a douchecanoe. But that’s crap. I’m the one who’s in love with my best friend and pretending I’m not.

Fuck me. I’m a strong guy. I’m a tough guy. But I was not built to withstand the sight of Jamie Canning stroking himself.

Jesus. Good thing he’s not a traffic cop, because he’s sending enough mixed signals to cause a ten-car pileup.

I love you. The words are always right there on the tip of my naughty tongue. I swallow them back like I need to and say something much more practical instead.

Why hasn’t anyone ever told me the prostate was some kind of magical pleasure zone? Are there unicorns and orgasm fairies dancing around in there?

“Want you,” I whisper. Lately, those two words define me. “Have me,” he says.