Dreaming in Color Cameron Dane (ebook reader library TXT) 📖

All eyes on him, Marek felt another trickle of sweat run down his back that didn't have a damn thing to do with the heat and sun. “All right.” He scratched his jaw and never wished so hard for his beard back. “Well…”

Marek went through the pros and cons of the vessel he owned, answering questions from both Tag and Jordan along the way. They talked about a boat, but through this entire conversation—as well as every single other previous minute he had sat with these people during lunch—Marek didn't for one second forget Jordan and Tag were assessing him and deciding if he was a quality person and worthy of their friend. Marek made nice as best he could and tried to blend into the role of listener as much as possible, but the judging glances kept him tense and on the edge of his seat the entire time, feeling like a fraud. They would surely want to throw him right over the side of his boat into the ocean if they knew the truth.

If they knew Marek had caused their best friend the worst pain and fear in his life.

Traitor. Fool. Coward.

All worthy titles Marek bestowed on himself.

He kept talking, though, all the while, guilt strangled him inside.

* * * * *

Marek opened the front door and headed right for the kitchen. Christ, he needed a drink. Being the designated driver, he'd only had fruit juice and water during lunch. With the way his nerves had jumped under the constant, watchful eyes of Jordan and Tag, Marek constantly found his gaze drifting to Colin's glass of wine, wishing for a sip. Or a gulp. Or the entire bottle.

He pulled open the fridge door, grabbed a beer, and twisted off the cap, taking a fast swig of the dark lager before tossing the top into the trash. Marek had the bottle midway to his mouth for another drink when his attention snagged on Colin across the room. His beer forgotten, Marek couldn't tear his gaze away from the sexy, windblown man.

Colin held at the entrance to the kitchen. He slipped his hands in his pockets and leaned his shoulder against the dark wood frame. Watching Marek from his position, Colin's eyes were so open and goddamned guileless Marek almost couldn't bear to see it.

“Thank you for coming with me,” Colin said, his voice a near hush. “I know it can be awkward to sit down with people you don't really know.”

Marek cleared his throat with a drag on his beer. “No problem. Your friends are good people.” He forced a tight smile to his lips. “You're very funny with Jordan.”

“Yeah, she's great. They both are.” Colin pushed off the doorjamb and moved into the kitchen with a slow, steady grace, pausing some four feet away at the butcher island. He ran his finger along the edge of the wood, but kept his head tilted, watching Marek the whole time. “Do you know what I was thinking about half the time during lunch?”

Colin's seductive, probing stare raised more hairs on the back of Marek's neck than Jordan and Tag's scrutiny had done combined. “That you wished you'd brought Beatrice's journals with you so you could keep reading them?”

Chuckling, Colin said, “Yeah, I suppose that was the second half of what I was thinking about.” He turned and stalked right up to Marek, and Marek automatically pushed backward, jamming his lower back into the counter. Colin planted his hands on either side of Marek and leaned in, stopping with barely a sliver of breathing space between their mouths. “But the other half”—Colin's nostrils flared and his pupils dilated, nearly eclipsing the green—“was spent wondering how fast I'd get arrested if I took out your cock, sat on your lap, and rode your thick prick right in that wicker chair, in front of everybody, until we both screamed and came.”

“Jesus, Colin.” Marek's throat convulsed, and his cock pushed against his jeans, leaking already. This man turned him on and twisted his insides upside down faster than anyone he had ever known. “The way your mind works…”

“No.” Colin dipped his tongue out, licked Marek's lips, and darted back inside. “What you provoke in me.” He rubbed his groin into Marek and scraped their mouths together, barely hinting at a kiss. Pulling back, he looked into Marek's eyes, and the depth and heat stole Marek's breath away. “I want you.”

Falling fast, dangerously so, Marek whispered gutturally, “Then take me.” He closed the inches between them and opened his mouth over Colin's, diving headfirst into a kiss mired in need. Colin moaned and tangled his tongue wildly with Marek's, lending a frantic, even violent bent, with fingers digging into hair and scratching scalp as he yanked Marek closer. Marek welcomed the heightened passion and grabbed Colin's hips, grinding their cocks together and losing himself in the sheer joy of this man. He nipped Colin's lower lip and skated the flat of his palm around to the small of his back. Slipping under the hem of his shirt, Marek rubbed the curvature, pushed his fingers down to caress the cleft of Colin's ass, and drew forth a tremble.

“God, Marek.” Colin separated their mouths just a hair and touched the tips of his fingers over Marek's sensitized lips. His eyes shone bright in the first shadows of evening, and Marek swore he could see right into Colin's soul. “I am so in love with you.”

Marek jerked and felt stabbed in the gut. No. Not yet. Not right now. He pushed away from Colin and made it the few feet to the center island on shaky legs. “You're not in love with me.” He leaned his weight on the butcher-block surface, his back to Colin, and tried to control his racing heart and uneven breathing. “You don't know me.”

“Shit.” Out of the corner of his eye, Marek saw Colin tunnel his fingers through his hair. “I didn't plan to blurt that out right