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I had in mind,” Gabriel said, “but that I don’t mind it.”

Sean held on to his sanity, barely. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well, first thing was, I hoped that you’d relax enough to finally tell me why you named your truck On a Roll,” Gabriel said.

It was a reasonable assumption. There was no denying that. But it was a metaphorical bucket of ice-cold water, dumped over Sean’s head. It didn’t quite extinguish the warm fire in the base of his stomach that the alcohol—and Gabriel—had started. But it was enough to remind him that he’d never intended to waver from one unalienable truth: he was never going to give in and give up the name.

Sean stood, abruptly, the chair legs screeching across the old wooden floor of the bar. “I think . . . I think I should get home,” he said. “We can talk about this later.” Though he really didn’t want to leave. What had he been thinking, letting Gabe get him tipsy and pliable? Letting him flirt? Flirting back? It was insane, and it needed to stop now.

“Wait,” Gabriel said.

Sean turned away, the desperation on his face showed.

He didn’t want Gabriel to see it, and he really didn’t want to feel it.

Sean was across the room and through the door before he could be tempted to stay. The cool air hitting his skin helped to bring him back to reality—but not enough. Especially not when Gabriel was right behind him.

He heard the door to the bar slam behind him, and came to a halt as he sensed Gabriel’s big, warm body right behind his.

Taking a deep breath, Sean wished that his head was clearer. The realization that something had almost happened helped. The fresh air helped.

But he still wanted it. He wanted it way too much.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had wanted just for the sake of wanting. Sex just because he was horny, and there seemed to be only one person who could scratch his itch.

With Milo, there had always been affection and care and so quickly after that, love. And while there had been a handful of others before Milo, Sean had never felt this hard and fast pull.

He didn’t know how to deal with it, and he definitely didn’t know how to deal with the fact that the person he wanted so badly was Gabriel Moretti.

Sean wasn’t stupid enough to think his sudden lust for Gabriel was a betrayal of Milo. Milo was gone and sex was sex; sometimes you couldn’t help who you wanted it with. But Sean was embarrassed for himself.

He’d always believed, during the worst of his pain and heartbreak, that he’d at least had his dignity.

Gabriel made him want to give it all up.

“Hey.” Gabe’s voice was low and concerned. But still, underneath his obvious worry that he’d scared Sean off, he could hear the edge of lust.

Why hadn’t he kept his stupid mouth shut? If he had, Gabriel might never have known that his feelings were so complicated. He might not have known just how complicated they were.

Sean squeezed his eyes shut. Wished he could block out Gabriel’s voice, too.

“Hey,” Gabriel repeated, and this time, Sean felt a hesitant touch of one of his big hands. Not on the relative safety of his shoulder. But on the plane of his back. The warmth of his hand seeped through the cotton of his t-shirt and Sean thought wildly that he wanted to know if Gabe was that hot everywhere.

If he turned around, he was going to do something that he regretted. That much, he knew.

He turned around anyway.

Chapter Two

Something was happening.

Inside of him.

Between him and Sean.

Definitely something inside Sean.

Gabriel had never known Sean to run before. He’d always stayed strong, so goddamn strong. Like he had a backbone made of freaking steel. But now, he wasn’t sure if the steel was bending, or it had never been as strong as Gabriel had originally believed.

Then, Sean turned around, and Gabriel realized as he saw the heat in his eyes, normally so clear, but tonight, a cloudy, hazy blue, that he wasn’t bending. He was melting.

And he was melting right into Gabe.

“I left because this is a bad idea,” Sean said, and there was a little of that inner strength that Gabe found so amazingly annoying—and so amazingly sexy. Somehow, at the exact same time.

“Yeah,” Gabriel agreed. “It’s a wrinkle.” He’d only touched Sean briefly before, when he’d been standing there, back to him, and breathing hard, like he’d just run a marathon. Or maybe, Gabe realized, it wasn’t a marathon at all, but a battle with himself. But he touched him again now, in the same place, hand resting gently over the same spot on Sean’s back, and this time he didn’t move.

Sean glanced up at him, licking his lips. “Discovering you’ve run out of lettuce in the middle of a busy day, that’s a wrinkle. This is . . . a catastrophe.”

That stung a little, deep down. It wasn’t like Gabriel liked this situation any more than he did, but being wanted despite someone’s best efforts to feel otherwise? Not as fun as he’d always imagined.

But Sean laid a hand on his side anyway, right where his t-shirt met the waist of his jeans, and those nimble fingers grazed a sliver of his skin and Gabe inhaled, sharply. He never had a chance to exhale, because Sean’s mouth was on his, and they were kissing, and it was every bit the catastrophe that Sean had predicted.

It was wet and messy and absolutely fucking fantastic.

Sean’s fingers slid up along his spine and curled around the base of his neck, tugging him down, deepening the kiss, tongues tangling together as they stumbled backwards.

Gabriel felt the rough bricks against his back as Sean pushed him against the wall of the bar, his thigh brushing against his hardening cock. Rubbing against it shamelessly, like they weren’t on a public sidewalk, devouring each other like the rest of the world didn’t exist.

And,

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