Weston bit his lip. It hadn’t felt wrong the night before, when Weston had said that he was Mark’s—if only for a few hours. Mark had been so pleased by that qualified announcement. Like Weston had promised him his life’s wish. It hadn’t felt wrong when he woke up, wrapped securely in Mark’s arms.
He took a step forward, closing the space between them, instead of a step back. His hand itched to forget about the sheet he was still gripping tightly and touch Mark.
The emerald seemed to sparkle in the growing light as he ran his fingers over Mark’s shoulder in a hesitant but hungry caress.
He saw Mark’s gasp as a hitch in his chest.
“You promised me all night,” Mark whispered. A tentative hand reached forward and curled around Weston’s waist, drawing them even closer. “And the sun won’t be
