“Colby.” In Jason’s deep voice his name sounded like wonder, like a mystery, like a gift to be cradled. “You’re asking. You’re still asking. After everything you’ve just told me.”
“Er. Yes?”
“You want me, you said.”
“Yes?”
“And you trust me not to hurt you.”
“I’ve just said—”
“Colby Kent,” Jason said again, half a laugh, half an amazed and reverent breath. “Christ. I never imagined. Okay, no, I did imagine, once or twice, I’m only human, but not like this. Not ever like this.”
“Yes,” Colby said, giving up, drowning in red-hot embarrassment. “Of course. I’ll just go, then.” He gathered up legs, fumbled, found his feet. One step toward the door. Two.
“No!” Jason bolted up from the bed, then forced himself to a halt: almost comically pleading, hands stretched outward but immobile. “I
