Toby still held Gideon’s face, his neck, still had his tongue in Gideon’s mouth, and he had to make a decision . . . Simmer down or take it to bed. With his hands cupping Gideon’s face, he broke the kiss, their foreheads touching. Breaths ragged, chests heaving. “Tell me what to do,” Toby whispered. Gideon’s eyes closed and he looked torn. But their hips were still flush together, erections pressed between them. But there was no answer. “It’s okay,” he murmured, taking a step back.
