Frog by Mary Calmes (read along books TXT) 📗

“Right.”

“Well, then—” I wet my lips. “—may I?”

“That would be good,” he answered, his voice hoarse.

I eased him closer, my mouth slanting down over his, letting him feel my desire and need, my tongue tasting him, the tequila he’d been drinking, and the faint sliver of salt. When he moaned into my mouth, I clutched him tight, savoring the way his body melted against mine.

His arms wrapped around my neck fast as he whimpered, pressing his obvious erection to my groin.

Drunk and horny, his body flushed with heat—I needed to get the man home fast.

“No-no-no,” he whined when I pulled back, taking a deep breath of air.

“You need to come with me,” I said, loving the glazed look in his big, wet eyes.

“Web, just take me into the bathroom.”

“You have lost your mind.” I sighed as I held his face in my hands and smiled slowly, lazily. “I was worried that maybe you might’ve started kissin’ frogs again.”

His hand went to my shoulder, and he looked at me hard. I saw the muscles in his jaw flex. “Christ, Weber, you’re my prince, idiot. You were never a frog,” he said gruffly, his voice low and husky.

It was dumb that I needed to hear the words—I was an action-over-declaration kind of guy—but from him, it was necessary. Always had been.

“Let’s just go home. Please. I wanna go home.”

“Why?” I teased him.

He leaned his head forward so my hands slipped around his neck. “Because I need you, and you won’t fuck me here.”

I breathed against his ear and felt the shudder go through him. “No, I won’t, but I will put you over the couch in the living room when we get home if you can’t make it to the bedroom.”

“Fuck,” he half yelled, squirming like his clothes were suddenly too tight.

“Talk to me.”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” he whispered fiercely, and I watched him shut his eyes hard, hoping to stop the tears. They leaked out from under his long, thick lashes anyway. “I want you to stay. God, Weber, I have never needed anyone like I need you.”

“Same here.”

Instantly, his head tipped up, and I was swallowed in his golden-brown gaze.

“I love you,” I told him, and it finally felt good to say and not terrifying.

“You do?”

“Of course, don’t be stupid.”

He lunged at me, wrapped his arms around my neck again and this time hugged me tight. He was trembling, and with that realization, every doubt and every fear burned itself out of me. I finally understood that the man truly and completely loved me. And he didn’t love me because I was a cowboy, and he didn’t love me because I was some romantic ideal but because I was me. He loved plain old Weber Yates, poor, out of work, and clueless. He worshipped the ground I walked on. It made no sense. We were as different as we could be. I was a nothing, and he had the world at his feet, but apparently, in this scenario, he didn’t see it like that. He didn’t have everything unless he had me. The man saw me, cherished my heart, recognized how much I loved him, and knew that it would never occur to me to stop, ever. There could be no mistake. We would be in this for the long haul if I would finally, could finally, let it start. And really, why would I not? The only thing standing between us was my pride, and it was not strong enough to keep us apart. I was not a vain man, but I realized when I was needed and when I alone would do. I squeezed him tight and kissed his cheek.

“Oh God,” he shivered, pulling back just enough to look up at me. “You feel different. You sounded… different right then.”

“Did I?”

His smile was blinding. “Oh shit.”

“Nice.”

“Weber,” he gasped, and he lost it, tears, trembling lip, body shaking. It all happened at once. But he was drunk off his ass, so I understood. “You’re going to stay? Tell me you’re going to stay and move in with me and live with me until I die.”

“I’ll pass before you, idiot,” I told the most hopeful, happy, terrified pair of eyes I had ever seen. “I’m older.”

He climbed me, and I had to laugh because the man had his legs wrapped around my waist, arms around my neck, and his tongue shoved down my throat in seconds. The kiss was hard and devouring and ravenous, and breathing was an afterthought. He ravaged me, and after long minutes, I became peripherally aware of the applause before he tore his mouth from mine to look up.

“We get it.” One of the men close to us smiled brightly at Cy. “He’s yours: hands off.”

“God, that was hot,” someone else chimed in. “I had no idea you had that in you, Dr. Benning.”

“You’re going to stay,” he whispered close to my ear. “And be mine.”

I chuckled, looking up at my sweet man as he pulled back to look at me, his big soft eyes and swollen lips. God, he was pretty, and now that I’d claimed him, I was not about to have strangers ogling him.

“Let’s go home. The car’s outside.”

“Yessir.” He breathed over my face, beaming down at me, his face, his eyes, his smile all infused with more joy then I thought was possible.

I turned, still carrying him as, from how hard he was hanging on, he had no inclination to be put down, and started heading for the door.

“You know what I want?”

“Tell me,” I said, one hand on his ass, the other around his back.

“When we get home, will you hold me so tight that I can feel your heart beating?”

“I will,” I promised and took a settling breath.

“Weber.”

I stopped as I recognized William Reece, one of his friends from my last visit. “Will.”

“Yes.” He smiled at me as I gently set Cy down on his feet. “It’s good to see you. Are you