MAKING HIM MINE

SAXON JAMES

ABOUT THIS BOOK

My best friend is the love of my life … he just doesn’t know it yet.

Ever since Barney finalized his divorce, I’ve been his biggest support.

He needs a shoulder to cry on? I’ve got him covered.

He needs someone to answer his late phone calls? I’m here all night.

He needs to be fucked to within an inch of his life? Climb on up, big guy.

But when he mentions he’s finally ready to start dating again, watching him meet up with guy after guy is not on my checklist.

It’s time for the best friend gloves to come off.

1

LEIF

“I think it’s time.”

I glance across the table at my best friend, who’s pushing food around his plate. Nervousness rolls off him, and his gaze stays on the top of my head, where it gets caught when he doesn’t want to meet my eye. My Spidey senses are telling me I don’t want to know what it’s time for, so I don’t ask. “That’s nice.”

He swallows so loud I hear his throat unsticking from here. “I-I’m serious. I need to do it already. Just … just get back in there.”

“That’s what he said.”

His gaze drops to mine. “You’re an idiot. I’m trying to be serious here.”

I make an obnoxiously loud snoring noise, and he quickly glances around before shushing me. When he realizes no one is paying us attention, I’m rewarded with his indulgent smile that unleashes those enormous dimples. They go from his squishy cheeks almost to his chin, and they never fail to give me butterflies, to tempt me to lean forward and trace them with my tongue.

“You’re not paying attention, are you?” he asks.

“It’s not my fault you’re smiling like that.”

Barney ducks his head, and I know he’s desperately trying to relax his face. When he looks up, there’s a determination in his eyes I’m not used to. “I’m ready to start dating again.”

And there it is. Outwardly, I barely react to his words. Inside, I’m dying.

“Cool.”

“That’s it? Cool.”

I will my heart to man the fuck up and be a best friend. Crossing my arms over the table, I lean in. “What makes you so sure?”

“Well, it’s been, what, two years?”

“Is there a secret timeline that divorced guys work off?”

“No …”

“Then why does that matter?”

“No, it’s …” He rubs his neck. “You know I’ve always been a relationship guy. I like being part of a couple, and even though the split broke me, I haven’t felt the same since.”

“Way to tell me I’m a cheap lay without telling me I’m a cheap lay.”

“You know it’s not that. I never would have gotten to this point without you, but I know I’m not the only one you’re sleeping with, and I want to find that guy who thinks I’m enough. I want that again.”

Ah. That.

Barney and I have been hooking up for almost a year now. It was a dumb suggestion that I threw out in a weak moment and has carried on since. The problem is when he casually mentions the other guys I must also be sleeping with … I don’t correct him. I slept around a lot before him, but since the first time we slept together, there hasn’t been anyone else for me.

All I need to do is tell him that he is enough for me.

He’s always been enough for me.

The words are about to come out when he says, “I’ve been talking to some guys online, trying to arrange a meetup, but as soon as I drop the D word on them, it’s like an instant repellent.”

“Funny, when someone drops the D word on me, I’m all in.”

“Divorce, not dick, moron. It’s like … I’m broken. Or used up. Sold out …” He sighs. “I don’t know.”

“Can’t you find another divorced guy?”

He huffs. “I would, but none of our friends are divorced, and it’s not the type of information you ask people you first meet.”

True. I might be an eternal bachelor type, but it’s by choice. If I can’t have Barney, I don’t want anyone, but if he does find a boyfriend, it’s back to booty calls and one-night stands, while I desperately try to make friends with his man.

I failed with his ex-husband, and now I know what his O-face looks like, I’m positive I’ll fail with whoever comes next.

So, I guess I need to make sure no one comes next.

“Well, until then, you’ve got all this.” I hold out my arms. “Speaking of …”

“We’re not hooking up in the bathroom.”

“We should totally hook up in the bathroom.”

Barney laughs, and I grin, knowing that he’s still mine. For now. “Do you ever turn off?”

“Never.” Around him. I lean forward and whisper, “Tell me you don’t want to paint the walls of this fancy-ass place with your cum.”

Barney groans softly, and I know I’m on the right track. He has a thing about marking his territory.

I lift my eyebrows in a silent question.

“I’d rather paint your mouth with it.”

“Two minutes.” I wink, stand from the table, and make my way to the restrooms. I might have been nervous if this wasn’t something we’ve done a bunch of times before. Turns out my sweet, oblivious best friend is as constantly horny as I am.

The restroom is down a long hall near the kitchens, and the noise coming from in there will be enough to drown out whatever we get up to. I duck inside the empty room and lock myself in a stall.

Thankfully no one else enters, and exactly two minutes later, the main door creaks open, and I spot Barney through the crack in the stall door.

I flip the lock open, he ducks inside, and he’s barely got it locked again before I back him into the wall.

“You’re gonna get us caught one day,” he says breathlessly.

“Isn’t that thought half of the fun?” I quickly reach for his belt, scrambling to undo it. His cock is already hard, and my gut gets stupidly fluttery at the reminder that it’s all for me.

I press against him and tug him into a quick, filthy kiss. It’s been a good week or so since we last hooked up, and even though it’s normally longer than that, I’m finding it harder and harder to play it cool lately. Everything about him drives me crazy. From his scent to his bashfulness to the feel of his cock.

My hand dives into his hair, and I tilt his head back so his hazy stare meets mine. “You are so fucking hot like this.”

He whines. “Suck me, Leif.”

If we weren’t on a time limit here, I’d make him beg. Instead, I sink to my knees and pull out his mouthwatering cock. He’s so thick and veiny, and he might not be leaking yet, but I know it won’t take me long to get a taste.

Even though this is supposed to be fast and hot, I take a moment to hold the heated length against my cheek and breathe him in.

His hips give an aborted thrust. “Come on …”

“So impatient.” It’s beautiful. I love playing with him and driving him crazy.

Maybe I should have dragged him back to my place for this.

But the heightened sense I have of someone walking in at any moment prickles over my skin to my balls. If it wasn’t for, you know, jail, I’d want to be found like this.

On my knees.

Dick in hand.

A total slut for my best friend.

I hurry to free my dick and get to work.

I lick his slit before sliding the fat head into my mouth and moaning around the feel of him on my tongue. God-fucking-dammit, Barney.

My hand slowly works my cock as I lick and suck and tease him. I don’t go deep, just focus on working him up until I’m rewarded with the salty taste on my tongue. It drives me wild.

The second I taste him, I find it impossible to hold back.

I go deep, tongue tracing every ridge until the head of his cock nudges into the back of my throat.

His strangled gasp is so hot, so needy, and even though this is a quickie, it goes so much deeper than getting off.

Barney’s steady hand is cradling my head as I bob down on him over and over, guiding me at the pace he likes as though it’s not already permanently imprinted on my brain. I’ll never get enough of this. I never want it to end. If he gave me even the slightest hint he wanted more, I’d pour my feelings all over him.

“Nrg shit,” he murmurs.

The deep rasp makes my balls throb. My hand works faster, jerking in time with me blowing him, and every grunt and moan and whispered encouragement spurs me on.

He’s leaking more, the taste of him filling my mouth, making me high, driving me out of my goddamn brain.

When Barney’s hand tightens and he thrusts, fucking into my throat, using me, taking what he needs, I reach around to grab his ass with one hand and give him full control. It’s the sloppiest blow job I’ve maybe ever given him, and I want more. Want it to last. Want to work a finger inside him and make him beg.

But too soon, his rhythm hitches and his ass tenses, and then he’s flooding my mouth with his cum.

I hum at his loud gasp, and as soon as he’s done, I lean down, suck both balls into my mouth, and jerk off like a madman.

This will never be enough.

I want to keep him.

“Leif …”

I glance up, and the second we lock eyes, it’s all over.

I shudder through my orgasm, too checked out to remember to catch my cum, and instead paint the bathroom floor with it.

Once my high recedes, I release his balls as Barney laughs.

“Ooops.” He unrolls some toilet paper and hands it to me to clean up. Once I’m done, he helps me stand, then pulls me into a kiss as we tuck each other away.

“I’m going to miss this,” he mumbles against my lips.

And with those five words, it sinks in.

Becomes clearer than ever.

He wants this to end.

And I don’t know how to let him go.

2

BARNEY

Carlton sounded nice enough to talk to through a screen, but sitting across from me is a totally different person.

We agreed to meet at Killer Brew, a brewery slash axe bar slash market, and if it wasn’t for the good beer, I would have declared tonight a total bust.

“Ah, so how old are you?” he asks.

“Forty-one. You?”

“Twenty-five.”

I act like the age difference doesn’t bother me, but sixteen years is a lot. His eyes sweep over me again like they have been all night, and he turns his huge baby blues up toward me. “Sorry if this is too soon to say, but you look like such a Daddy.” He pouts. “I could use someone to keep me in line.”

My cock stirs, but not for the reason he wanted. I know why he has that impression. I’ve got a whole lot more grays in my blond hair lately, the lines on my forehead are deep, and after the divorce, I ate my weight in comfort food and haven’t been able to shed the pounds since.

But I’m not a Daddy. I don’t want to be a Daddy.

What I do want is someone who’ll take care of me. Just like Leif does.

I hold back my sigh. I want him so bad. Not physically—we’ve got that more than covered. I want him, his heart, and I want it to be all mine.

Every time I’m sitting at home alone, waiting for him to text me back, all I can picture is him hooking up with another man, and it makes me feel ill.

But I tried.

We’ve been sleeping together for a year. I cook him dinner more often than not. We’re together most days while we’re not working, and when I told him I was ready to date, I’d been holding my breath hoping he’d suggest I date him, but instead he brushed it off like he does with anything when it gets too deep.

Which is why I’m here.

Sitting across from a midtwenties twink who wants me to be his Daddy.

“Sorry, not my kink.”

“Pity.” He tilts his head before propping it prettily on one hand. “So, what is your kink?”

My best friend. I don’t say that, though, because the last thing I want is this random stranger feeling sorry for me. “I’m what they’d call vanilla.” Except for my obsession with covering Leif, his bed, his room, his anything in cum.

“Would you spank me?”

Ten years ago, maybe. Though … I cringe. Ten years ago, he was a kid, so definitely goddamn not.

“Sorry, not my thing.”

“Damn.” He takes a long drink of his wine. “This isn’t going well.”

I huff a laugh. “Yeah, ah, I think it’s that we’re not … what’s the word? Compatible.”

“Agreed. But we can still fuck, right?”

My gut twists at the thought. “Sorry, no.”

“Fine.” He stands to go, when I cover his hand.

“Wait. Can I ask … you knew I was forty and divorced, why did you agree to a date?”

The assessing look he gives me makes me squirm. “You’re forty and divorced. I have serious Daddy issues, and those two things are catnip.”

Aaand I’m sorry I asked.

I tell Carlton I’ll settle the tab and wait for him to leave before drowning my sorrows in a glass of whiskey.

By the time I leave the Killer Brew, I’m ready for the day to be over.

And even though my night has already been shithouse, I take an Uber to Leif’s and hope to whoever is listening that he’s alone.

As soon as he sees me, his handsome face breaks into a smile.

“Not a word,” I warn, walking in and checking the living room for stray hookups. The rest of the lights in the place are off, and it’s quiet, so I think I got lucky.

“Didn’t say anything.”

“You immediately checked your watch.”

“I’m very interested in the time.”

“Uh-huh.”

We stand there staring at each other for a moment.

“So,” he says. “Date went well?”

I roll my eyes and drop back on the couch. “You couldn’t let me pretend like it never happened, could you?”

“That bad?” The bastard looks elated by that information. I stare at him blankly. His smile stretches wider.

“He wanted to call me Daddy,” I rush to say.

Leif bursts into laughter. “You?”

“I’m so glad you find this funny.”

“No, no nothing against the Daddy thing. I’ve tried it before. But … you? You’re a fucking kitten.”

I glare. “Shut up.”

“Not even a teddy bear Daddy—you’re the one who should be pampered. You’d be terrible having to spank someone.”

“I could spank someone.”

“Those love taps you give me don’t count.”

I scowl, and Leif drops down next to me.

“Hey, you’re awesome the way you are. You don’t need to be a Daddy. You have me.”

I wish I had him. “That’s not the same thing, and you know it.”

“Why?”

“Because … because …” Spit it out, Barney. “We’re friends.”

“And? Friends who fuck, what more could you want?”

He’s right in that, on the surface, that’s all I want. Him, and sex. But I don’t really have him. Not in the way I crave. So, if I’m going to get serious about a relationship, I need to put this thing between us to rest.

I clear my throat. “Yeah, about that.”

He opens his mouth, then closes it again, as though he hadn’t meant to do it. One of his dark eyebrows hooks upward, and he hums at me to go on.

“I think we should stop hooking up.” My heart is dramatically sobbing to harp music, but dammit, this needs to be done. “If I’m going to find a boyfriend, I need to be serious about him. Not still sleeping with you. We … we should go back to just, uh, friends.”

“Friends.”

“Yes.”

“No more sexy fun times.”

“Correct.”

His dark stare lands on mine, and he holds my gaze. One … two … he’s not looking away. “You don’t want my mouth anymore?”

“W-what?”

“Or my hands?” He still hasn’t looked away. “Or my cock?”

My cheeks are getting hot, and I don’t know whether to shake my head or nod. “It’s not about want—”

“So you do want me?”

I give him a cut-the-shit look. “That’s no secret. Our sex is incredible, but …”

“But?”

“I want to get serious about finding someone. I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

“Fair.” His lips hitch up in one corner, and he shifts to lean back against the couch. Then, he reaches down into his sweats and pulls out his half-hard cock. “I guess I’ll have to find someone else to bounce on this.”

Heat flares through me. It’s lust mixed with anger, mixed with this desperate need for him to be mine. My gaze drops to where Leif is lazily stroking himself to full hardness as my heartbeat gets louder in my ears. Fuck, he’s sexy.

Thick hairy thighs, a light dusting of hair on his stomach, broad shoulders, thick neck, stubble, and eyes that feel like they see too much.

I shift, cock aching. My brain is trying to remind me to be strong, but every passing second makes the voice softer.

Then Leif drags his tongue over his full bottom lip, and I can’t stand it anymore.

“Fuck it.”

I can be strong tomorrow.

3

LEIF

Barney’s mouth crashing against mine is heaven. A deep groan rumbles in my chest at the same time as a breathy little moan leaves him.

His hands find my hair, and I waste no time reaching down and hurrying to undo his jeans. He’s already hard, and a possessiveness fills me that he’s mine. Well, for now.

I shove the thought away because I know this won’t be the last time he tries to end things between us, and I want to make sure I take advantage of every second I can have my hands on him.

Barney shifts forward, and I wrap my hand around the both of us, loving the feel of his hard length and that silky soft skin pressed against my own.

“Mm, hold on.” He pulls away, and for a second, I think he’s about to put a stop to this when he reaches into his wallet and pulls out a packet of lube.

I watch, trying not to focus on why he had it with him tonight, as he tears it open, lifts my hand, and squeezes it into my palm.

When my hand closes around us again, his head drops back on a sigh.

“How does this feel so good?” he murmurs.

“Because I’m insanely talented in bed.”

Barney’s cheeks are already flushing red, and I give us both a slow, deliberate stroke that makes him look up again. His eyes have that glazed look that drives me wild, and after a second of studying me, he cups my face and drags his lips over mine.

It’s different from the hot and fast kisses we normally share, and the sweetness of it is messing with my head. My chest squeezes painfully at the thought of being treated to these kisses every day, so instead of giving in to the urge to lay him out underneath me and fuck him slowly, I break the kiss and turn my attention to his neck.

The sounds he makes are my own personal kryptonite. So erotic and needy. I like to pretend it’s because it’s me he needs, and not only the sex. As I work my mouth over his neck to the soft spot under his jaw that makes him gasp, I make sure to focus on everything he loves. A strong, hard grip on our cocks, squeezing the tip on every other stroke, free hand creeping under his shirt to tease his nipple, and mouth leaving sloppy, sensual kisses on every inch of skin I can find.

No one knows him like I do.

No one can turn him on the way I can.

And I want him to remember that when he’s with whoever he meets after me.

No matter how many boyfriends he has, I’m determined to make sure he remembers that my touch is the only one who can set his body alight.

Barney thrusts into my fist, a sure sign he’s getting close. His large body is working on top of me, face hovering over mine, and I pull back to watch him lose his mind.

The sight of him totally blissed-out turns me on more than his dick in my hand, and before I can help it, pressure builds in my balls.

“I’m so fucking close,” I tell him.

He lets out a raspy noise and scrambles to reach for my T-shirt. “Off. This. Off, now.”

“You wanna come on me?”

He gasps. “Q-quickly.”

I release his nipple and yank my shirt off. Barney’s hands immediately close over my shoulders, and he fucks my fist with purpose. Each thrust brings a grunt out of him, and it’s so hard for me to hold off when he loses control like this.

“Yes, baby, come on.”

“Shit.” Barney seizes up with a cry, and the first rope of cum that hits me sends me over the edge. I stroke us both through it, milking every drop, and by the time he falls against me, we’re both softening.

I’m a mess, but I’m not going to ask him to climb off just to clean up, am I?

We’re quiet as we catch our breath, and I trail my clean hand up and down his spine, while I hold him to me.

There’s no way he can’t feel how right this is too.

Finally, he sighs.

“I should go. Early workday tomorrow.”

Of course.

I can count on one hand the number of sleepovers he’s had, and they’ve all involved alcohol. It’s like we can fuck all we want, but the second we share a bed together, shit gets too real.

Barney climbs off me and tucks himself away, but as he turns for the door, he pauses, gaze catching on the mess down the front of me.

Heat flares in his eyes. “I’ll never get over how hot that is.”

And because I’m an idiot who pushes his luck, I ask, “Your cum on someone? Or … your cum on me?”

Barney leans down to kiss me. “Don’t start or I’ll never leave.”

Is that a bad thing?

Instead of answering, I sit there and watch him walk out the door.

* * *

The Killer Brew is basically the one-stop shop in Kilborough. It’s not a large town, with business being largely seasonal, but the brewery is always busy. The market on one side sells everything from meat to produce to homewares, and the cafe out front is the best in town.

I wait for my order as Artur de Almeida chats with his customers. His family have lived in Kilborough since before the old prison was shut down, and owning the Killer Brew means he’s one of the richest people this side of Boston.

He’s also a cocky manwhore with a big mouth.

“Leif,” he says, approaching. “Why do you look like someone pissed in your cereal?”

Ouch. It’s been a long night though, so I’m not surprised. I’m not twenty anymore. Art, on the other hand, gets more handsome the older he gets. He’s Portuguese, I think he’s said, with piercing dark eyes, olive skin, and an aura of power about him.

“Didn’t get a lot of sleep.”

He snorts. “Still pining after the best friend?”

I hold in my groan. “Life’s too short for pining, you know that.”

“True. There are too many sexy men out there to settle on just one.”

I tilt my head, suddenly getting a terrible, tempting idea. “Hey, you’ve been divorced, right?”

“Yep. First gay couple to marry in Massachusetts.” He rubs his jaw. “And first divorced.”

I chuckle at his one claim to fame.

“Why do you ask?”

“It’s Barney. He’s having issues finding a guy who doesn’t scare off at the thought of a divorced guy.”

Art waves a hand. “No one gives a shit about that. At least, not that I’ve encountered.”

“Well, he seems to think otherwise.”

“Huh. Want me to talk to him?”

“Actually.” I nod to the barista who slides my coffee across the counter to me. “I want you to go on a date with him.”

“A date?”

“Yep.”

“With Barney?”

“Who else?”

He eyes me. “And you’d be totally fine knowing that my dates always end with us both sweaty and naked?”

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. But then again, Art is the complete opposite of what Barney is looking for, so it’s worth a shot. I guess. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you’ve been in love with him since high school.”

“Just friends, dude, geez. I like sex way too much to be tied down.”

“Uh-huh.” He thinks it over for a second. “Sure. Barney’s got that kind of innocent thing going on. Not to mention his ass could turn a straight dude.”

“Don’t think it works like that.”

“It does in this case.”

He’s not totally wrong. Barney’s ass is edible, and I can’t stop a flash of how it shakes when I pound into him from crossing my mind.

Walk it off, dickhead.

“So that’s a yes?” I ask.

“Just tell me when and where.”

4

BARNEY

“You did what?” Somehow I manage to keep the annoyance out of my voice. The last thing I expected when I showed up to work this morning was to find out Leif had organized me not one, but two dates like we’re in middle school again.

“You said you were struggling to find guys on the same wavelength as you, so I ran into Art, who’s also been divorced, and then I reached out to Ford. Trust me when I say neither of them will want to call you Daddy.”

I cringe and line up the souvenirs on the back wall of shelves. Leif and I went into business together years ago, and we’ve never looked back. Having an abandoned prison like Kilborough Penitentiary on your back doorstep opens up a world of memorabilia possibilities. We design and make a lot of it ourselves, which keeps costs down and profits high.

I never imagined my arts degree would be going toward something like this.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate it,” I say. Art and Ford are both hot guys and seem cool from what I know of them, so he definitely could have done worse. Leif setting up dates for me makes me worry that my plan to force his hand is backfiring. I told him that a boyfriend meant no more hooking up, and here he is helping that happen. “I don’t know if Art or Ford are good fits though.”

“Why?”

“Well, Art is …”

“Hot, rich, fun?”

I huff. “So you date him.”

“You forget, I don’t date.”

That’s been my only saving grace this last year. Whoever he’s hooking up with has never stuck around so I’ve never had to deal with seeing any of them. “And Ford low-key scares me.”

“Ford’s a good guy.”

I’m sure he is.

I’m sure they both are.

Attractive and nice and probably dynamite in bed.

But neither of them is Leif.

It hurts to consider the very real possibility that we may never happen. I should never have opened my mouth. I should never have tested him to see if he’d fight for us. It’s my own damn fault for not being happy with what I had, but things are getting too mixed up between us now to go on pretending like this is nothing.

I stayed in my marriage longer than I should have. It was over for a good year or so before we could both admit it was better to walk away, so while I’m kicking myself over pushing this thing with Leif, I also know that long term, making the first step will be better.

I’m ready to be happy again.

Even if it means that it’s not with Leif, I have to try, dammit.

He might not do boyfriends, but I definitely, certainly do, and I want to be loved again. I miss it. I need it.

“You okay?” he asks.

It’s not until he speaks that I realize I’ve been standing there holding a bobcat in a prison onesie, my grip getting steadily tighter. I need to pull myself together. If I go spewing feelings and Leif doesn’t feel the same way, that’s it, friendship over. I know what he’s like. I know what the guilt would do to him.

And I refuse to lose him as a friend over something as simple and ridiculous as feelings. So instead, I toss the plush animal at his head.

“Whoa, dick.” He laughs as he scoops it back up off the ground. “If you don’t want my help finding you husband number two, just say. No need for the assault, brother.”

“Fucking assault …” I shake my head. “I’ll remind you of that next time you ask me to choke you in bed.”

“Ah.” His cocky grin is back as he approaches me. “Next time, huh?”

Ooops. I hadn’t even been thinking about my resolve to cut the sex out cold turkey when that slipped out. “Wait, no. You’re right. There won’t be a next time.”

Goddamn, that shouldn’t hurt so much. Oh no, I’m in pain over the thought of never being able to choke my best friend while I ride his cock.

The first time he asked me to do it had been weird, but turns out, I’m super into it. Will the next guy I date feel the same?

“You did say that last night though, and then three seconds after seeing my dick, you mauled me.”

“I didn’t maul you.”

“You were totally all up in my business. Mm, Leif, baby, you’re so sexy, and I can never get enough of you.”

I huff. “You’re the one who calls me ‘baby’ during sex.”

“Don’t read too much into it. When I’m turned on, everyone is baby.”

“Okay, you’re officially never calling me that again.”

“And there you go confirming this isn’t over. Twice in a few minutes. Someone wants my D.”

“No, that’s—it’s not—”

“Customer …” He bounces away from me to head toward the counter, and I turn back to restocking the shelves. It’s going to be way too busy today to do much more than work, and while I love the steady business summertime brings, I couldn’t have picked a worse time to go through emotional turmoil.

It’s not until the afternoon that we get a lull in foot traffic. Even though the tours through the prison and tunnels underneath happen all night, we close at five. We both discussed hiring more staff to extend our hours, but it seemed like more trouble than it’s worth.

“Want to Netflix and chill tonight?” I ask.

Leif gasps. “Are you hitting on me again?”

“I meant actual Netflix and actual chilling.”

“Well, I’m not chill unless I’ve made a cum dump, so let’s do that first.”

I want to say yes so bad, but I’m a grown-ass man. I can keep it in my pants, even if I really, really don’t want to. “No more cum dumping or kissing or rubbing one out.”

“Fucking?”

“No.”

“How about I lock up and blow you?”

I stifle a laugh. “We’re not doing this anymore.”

Leif approaches, backing me up to trap me against the counter. He has the perfect amount of stubble today, and his dark eyes shine teasingly. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“If that’s what you want.” He leans in to my ear, not touching me, but the heat from his body fills the space between us.

I lick my lips, determined to be strong this time. “The sooner we’re back to being friends, the easier.”

“I agree.”

“And we’ll, umm … boundaries. We’ll have those.”

“Of course.” His sexy rasp right next to my ear is rapidly sending blood south.

I need to stop this. Step away. I’m worried if I touch him though that I won’t be able to control myself. I’ve always loved Leif, platonically, but on a field above and beyond anyone else, and since we started sleeping together, that love has morphed into something so strong and heady it makes me stupid.

My body craves his touch.

The thought of not having it feels like I’m going into mourning.

“Netflix and chill,” he whispers.

A shiver races down my spine. “Yeah. That. Totally.” I swallow. “We’ve got this, right?”

5

LEIF

My sweet, naive, beautiful friend. We certainly do not “got this.”

I know he feels it too—the burning electricity in the room. But something has gotten into his head because Barney is staring at the TV like if he looks away for a second, he’ll miss a Very Important Something.

I’m burning to touch him. The number of times I’ve almost reached across and closed the gap between us is ridiculous, but I know if I touch him, he’ll fold. The way he melts into me is addictive.

But I’m his friend before anything else, and if he wants to cut ties, I have to support it.

What else can I do?

I mean, tying him to my bed and fucking him until he’s cross-eyed is one option, but that’s probably crossing a whole lot of lines that a supportive friend wouldn’t do, no matter how much he’d end up begging me for it.

The saying if you love someone, you should let them go is a goddamn lie. All it does is hit me with guilt for feeling this way about him when I’d rather focus on showing him that he’s the greatest guy on earth.

I slump down on my couch, knees spreading wider as I get comfortable. Barney’s gaze immediately darts to my crotch and away again, and I watch his shoulders rise with a deep breath, then drop sharply.

“You okay there?”

“Mhmm.” His voice is almost swallowed by the movie. “Fine.”

Fuuuck. I want to tease him. Instead, I draw a deep breath of my own to stop my cock from getting excited and force my stare forward.

It doesn’t help much. I can still see him out of the corner of my eyes, and every time he shifts, it snags my attention and keeps hold. The smell of his bodywash is strong and familiar, and there’s something about his presence that feels physical, like he’s bigger than he is.

I sigh and drag a hand over my face.

This whole pining-in-silence thing has got to stop.

By the time the movie finishes, I’m ready to throw Barney out and jerk my way toward carpal tunnel.

“So Ford texted me,” he says.

Aaand there goes any desire to get hard. “What did he say?”

“He asked me out tomorrow night.”

“And you said yes?”

“Of course.”

I snort. Of course. I swear he’s acting like finding a boyfriend is on some sort of time limit. “What happened to him being scary?”

“Oh, he’s still scary, but he’s … you know … a big guy as well, so …”

My heart aches at the way he scrunches up his face. “Tell me that’s not the only reason you’re going on a date with him.”

“Well, no, I want to date, and my chances of finding someone are just as good with him as anyone.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like you need to settle. You’re hot.”

He gives me a cut-the-shit look. “I’m fat.”

And because I knew that was coming, I’m ready to whack the side of his head. “Say it like it’s a bad thing again and next time I’ll make it hurt.”

He snickers. “We both know I need to lose a few pounds.”

“We don’t both know that at all.” It’s a real struggle to keep the tone out of my voice. His weight is something he’s always been self-conscious about, and I don’t want to minimize his feelings, but I also don’t want him to base his opinions of himself on what he assumes everyone else thinks.

Because when I look at Barney, I see perfection.

“You have to say that because you’re my friend.”

“You’re also where I put my dick, and if I didn’t think you were smoking hot, it never would have happened.”

His cheeks flush beautifully, and I can’t stop the grin pulling at my lips.

“That’s not the compliment you think it is when you’ll sleep with just about any guy,” he says.

And there he goes again. Maybe it’s my fault for not correcting him to begin with, but the way he so easily believes there could be anyone but him is ridiculous. “I’m actually extremely picky, fuck you very much.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I only ever pick up tens.”

He waves a hand at himself.

“Well, apart from you.” I lean right into his space. “You’re not a ten, dumbass, because you’re not even on the scale. You’re the hottest guy I’ve ever met, and the only reason this arrangement between us is ending is because you want it to, not me.”

Barney’s eyes have widened, mouth hanging slack. There are a few inches between us, and I’m desperate to close the distance and seal his mouth with mine. Instead, I force myself to sit back.

He swallows audibly, the way he does when he’s nervous, and it takes all of my effort not to check and see if he’s hard. It’ll be my downfall.

“Y-you really think that?”

“The whole time we’ve been hooking up, have I ever hidden what you do to me?”

“I’m a guy and I have a dick,” he whispers.

“Maybe that’s all you need, but it takes more than that to get me going.”

“Like …”

You. “Like the way you squirm when you’re turned on. And how you go red from your ears to your cock when I’m blowing you. I love the way your whole body jiggles when I fuck you, and the way you moan my name, and then I love that we can hang out and be friends without that coming between us.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. So you tell Ford or Art or whoever else comes next that they better appreciate every fucking minute with you.”

Barney looks like I’ve slapped him. “I, umm, I will …”

“You better go,” I say, forcing a normal tone. “You’ll need to be rested for your date tomorrow. You want to be prepared for anything.”

“Right …” He stands stiffly, looking around like he’s misplaced something. “I’ll just … go …”

“See you Monday.”

“Monday. Right.”

I wait, and he watches me, and I’m not sure what he’s looking for, but a moment later, he abruptly nods, then leaves me sitting there, wishing I’d never said anything at all.

6

BARNEY

I don’t want to be here.

All day I’ve been on autopilot. Forcing myself through housework, and prepping, and getting ready for my date. But I don’t want to be sitting across from Ford, and I’d rather my prep work went to waste than have sex with him.

None of it is Ford’s fault.

It’s all Leif’s.

The things he said last night … my pulse races at the memory. The intense heat in his eyes and the way his low, steady voice went gravelly as he told me all these apparently wonderful things about myself that I’ve always hated.

Who wants to look like an overstuffed lobster during sex?

But apparently, that’s exactly the way Leif likes me.

It would be easy to doubt his words and assume it was some bullshit way of making me feel better about myself, but I know him. Every tone, every mannerism, every little quirk, and in the moment I’d been pinned in his stare, I could feel the truth between us.

“How’s the shop going?” Ford asks.

I turn my attention back to him and try my best not to be a date he’ll laugh about with his friends. Ford is a solid wall of fat and muscle. More tattoos than skin, big hands, a short beard, and a terrifying aura that is at complete odds with how nice he is.

“We’re run off our feet at the moment. You know what summer is like around here.”

“True, that. I’ve had to hire extra hands at the garage. All these out of towners who travel halfway across the country to holiday here and don’t realize the toll it will have on their cars.”

I snicker. “To be fair, I’d be one of them.”

Ford pretends to be offended. “Those poor babies. You’ve got to love and nurture your beast.”

“Well, my beast is one wrong turn away from the metal scrapyard in the sky.”

“You still got that old Tucson?”

“Yep. My ‘baby’ is more like a crotchety old dude with an attitude problem.”

He laughs. “You’ve got to know how to treat him right.”

“You’re the kind of guy who names your cars, aren’t you?”

“You don’t? That’s a travesty! No wonder he’s giving up the goat on you.”

Ford gets stuck back into his steak, smiling softly, and I wish I wasn’t hung up on Leif so I could actually give this dating thing a chance. He’s easy to talk to, I have a hunch he’d take control in bed, and if he isn’t an affectionate guy, I’ll eat my left nut.

But he’s not Leif.

I don’t realize I’ve sighed until Ford chuckles again.

“Not feeling it, huh?”

“What? No. I … I, umm …”

“It’s okay.” He hurries to hold up his hands. “That’s the whole point of dating, right? To see if you’re compatible.”

I prop my chin in my hand. “The problem is, we probably should be.”

“I’m guessing there’s someone else?”

“Am I that obvious?”

“You’ve been pretty standoffish since we got here.”

“Wow.” I cringe. “Sorry.”

“Nah, don’t be. We can still have a nice dinner together, right?”

“Sounds good to me.”

And with the pressure off, I relax enough to enjoy myself. We talk about dating at our age, and work, and how it’s nice to be out with someone with no pressure attached. Ford is still borderline scary—there’s a dominance in his stare which is a bit too intense for me—but overall he’s a sweet guy who cares probably too much about cars.

Hey, everyone has their faults.

“You know,” he says, as we’re standing up to leave. “I was surprised when Leif called.”

“You were?”

“Yup. I thought you two were a thing. What happened there?”

My face heats, but I remind myself no one knows we were hooking up. “We’re just friends.”

“Really? That’s weird.”

“Why?”

“When I asked if he wanted to grab coffee, he said he was already seeing someone.”

I freeze. “When was that?”

“About … Start of the year.”

“Like, what, seven months ago?”

“About that, yeah.”

My heartbeat picks up, thuds in my ears, so I almost miss the next part.

“I assumed it must have been you since you guys are always together, and word on the gay streets is he doesn’t hook up anymore. Deleted his Grindr profile and everything.”

“That’s … but …”

Ford shrugs. “Hey, maybe I was wrong.”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for a nice dinner.”

I can actually smile at that one, because it was nice. “You too.”

Ford leans in to kiss me on the cheek. “I’ll see you around.”

I wave as he leaves, and the moment he’s out of sight, I practically run for my car and head for Leif’s place.

From what Ford said, I can only think of two options. Either Leif has kept some secret boyfriend hidden almost the whole time we were together or … fuck. Or he was talking about me.

I remind myself not to get excited, because getting ahead of myself is a surefire way to wind up disappointed, but my body doesn’t listen. My pulse is ramped up, and there’s an obstruction in my throat that’s refusing to go away.

All I know is I’m close to high at the thought of Leif possibly feeling for me what I do for him. I want it so bad. Need it. If this is a misunderstanding, I’m going to be gutted. Will our friendship survive that?

I hope so, but it’s not something that will instantly become better.

We need to talk.

Desperately.

My fucking car won’t go fast enough, and I’m very worried it’s going to break down between here and there and it’ll take even longer.

To my relief, I make it, and I skip the elevator to take the stairs two at a time.

I’m panting by the time I knock on his door, trying to ignore the sweat prickling along my hairline. I have no idea what’s going to come out of my mouth when I see him, but the second Leif answers the door, my entire mind goes blank.

7

LEIF

It takes me a few seconds of blinking at Barney to comprehend that he’s actually standing there. To be fair, I’ve had a couple of drinks, and he’s supposed to be on a date.

“What are you doing here?”

He just stares, and I wonder if he’s forgotten for a moment that he’s supposed to be with Ford.

“Dude? You okay?”

“When was the last time you slept with someone?” he asks in a rush.

I smirk. “Two days ago.”

His face falls. “Oh.”

“Shouldn’t you know? You were there.” I eye him, trying to work out what’s up with him. He’s paler than usual and seems confused. “Are you drunk?”

“Okay, when was the last time you hooked up with someone who wasn’t me?”

My mouth snaps shut. To tell him or not to tell him … though, with how he’s looking at me right now, I have a sneaky feeling he might actually know. “It’s, ah, been a while.”

“Has there been anyone else since we’ve been sleeping together?”

I let out a long breath. “The last guy was just after your divorce.”

“Two years?” His voice breaks. “Why?”

I grunt and turn to walk back inside. Surely he can put together the why without me having to spell it out for him. My door clicks closed, and I feel rather than hear as Barney moves behind me.

A puff of warm breath hits my neck. “Tell me I’ve been an idiot. Tell me this is what I think it is.”

I spin to face him. His stare is steady but uncertain. I can read pain and hope and some kind of desperation from his face that hits me right to my core. “What do you think this is?”

“More.”

“More than?” I’m trying not to get too excited, but Barney isn’t wavering.

“More than hooking up. More than friends. More than feelings and fooling around. I …” He swallows. Loudly. The familiar way that tells me he’s nervous, and I wait for him to find the words. “I think I’m in love with you.”

“Jesus fuck.”

“Tell me you feel the same.”

And the fact he doesn’t already know proves my best friend is the most beautiful, unassuming man in the world. “You’re everything to me. Love isn’t a big enough word.”

His hands grip my shirt, and he tugs me toward him, mouth meeting mine.

I grip Barney back just as tightly, worried I’m imagining this or drunker than I thought, but he’s solid and warm and smells so perfectly the same, there’s no way my mind could fabricate all this. Barney melts into my hold, becoming so gorgeously pliant just for me, and the only thing I can think of is getting him to bed and on top of me.

But before I can take a step, he pulls back to run his mouth over my neck. “I don’t want to date. I never wanted to date. All I want is you.”

I squeeze him tight, voice coming out strained. “Then that’s exactly what you’ll get.”

We stagger for the bedroom, a mess of discarded clothes left behind, bumping into walls and almost tripping over but not wanting to release the other for a second.

His warm body is flush with mine as we reach the bedroom and stumble toward the bed, all grasping hands and hot tongues. I don’t want to let him out of my grasp, don’t want him to separate from me or pull away because the last thing I want is for him to rethink this and decide he’s not serious.

I nip his bottom lip. “Grab the lube, baby.”

He jerks back with a frown, and I immediately realize my mistake.

“I lied.” I chuckle and kiss him again. “I’ve never called anyone baby but you. Only you.”

“Really?”

“No one else has ever earned the title.”

“Fuck, Leif.” He grabs my face and kisses me hard and deep, barely giving me a chance to pull up for air. It’s claiming and powerful and goes straight to my cock.

I push him back onto the bed. “I need the lube.”

Barney’s face is flushed as he shuffles back on the bed, and I grab the supplies. The red staining his skin all the way to his hard, angry cock is a sight I’ll never get over. He spreads his legs, and my gaze zeroes in on his hole as I crawl up the bed.

I hum. “It’s been too long since I’ve been inside you.”

“Two weeks.”

“See?” I pout. “Basically a lifetime.”

I lube up my fingers and hover over the top of him while circling his hole. “Smile for me.”

He immediately does. “Why?”

The dimples popping up in his cheeks make me weak, and I lean down to bite one of them. “So beautiful.”

Barney squirms, and I use his distraction to work my fingers in. Like always, he relaxes for me instantly, his body accepting the intrusion like he was made for it. It makes my cock so hard, I’m desperate to push inside him. I have no idea how he can miss just how perfect he is, but it doesn’t matter, I’ll love him enough for the both of us.

“I want you to ride me,” I murmur once he’s ready.

He hesitates like he always does when I ask, but I pull my fingers out, wrap my arms around him, and roll us so he’s on top.

“Please. I want to see every movement your gorgeous body makes.”

“Leif …”

“I’m serious. You’re so big and thick. Your shoulders … your chest … your sexy belly.” I reach down to grab my cock and rub it along his crease. I’m leaking, making the glide smoother, and when my cock rubs over his rim, Barney groans. “See how hard you make me?” I tug his earlobe between my teeth. “So fucking masculine. I struggle to control myself around you.”

Barney pulls back, eyes already hazy. “You really think so?”

“I always have.”

It takes a second, but he nods, then reaches for the condom. I have to bite back my moan as he rolls it down my cock, then positions himself above me. His big, hairy thighs are spread wide over my waist, fat cock hovering enticingly over me, and when he grabs my dick and lifts himself up, my eyes are glued to the erotic sight of him sinking down onto it.

He lets out a breathy gasp that makes my balls tingle.

“Tell me how much you like this,” I say.

He squeezes his cock hard. “You drive me crazy, Leif. The way you look at me … the way, whenever we’re together, you’re always so focused on me and making me feel good.”

“When you feel good, I feel good. I want to give you everything.”

He rolls his hips, making my breath catch. “You do. I’ll never get enough of this.”

“Ride me.”

Barney plants his hands on my chest and does exactly that. Seeing him bounce on my cock has always been the sexiest thing I’ve ever experienced, and knowing that now there’s no time limit on this? Goddamn, I’m a lucky bastard. My chest is tight, endorphins hitting my bloodstream like a drug so addictive I want to bottle this feeling and ride the high forever.

My hands close over his ass as I thrust up into him. “Do it,” I beg.

And I don’t need to tell him what I mean.

Barney’s hands close around my throat, instantly obstructing my airways. It only takes a few seconds for my head to go fuzzy, for everything to get that blissful hazy edge to it. My thrusts get harder, faster, desperate to make him come. I need to make him feel good more than I need oxygen, and if I wasn’t so focused on steadying the very little air I’m getting, I would have come already.

My balls are so achingly tight, and as Barney works himself faster, chasing that high, taking everything he needs from me, I almost let go. It’s only my overwhelming need to see him crash first that keeps my orgasm at bay.

My vision narrows until all I can see is Barney. His blissed-out face, his powerful body, the stranglehold he has on his cock as he jerks himself hard and fast with one hand while pressing against my throat with the other.

I’m close. So close.

“Come …” I rasp.

Barney grunts, stumbles in his rhythm, then points his cock at my chest and finally releases. He shoots three, four ropes of cum before he lets go of my throat, and I gasp down a breath.

My vision is still coming back as I flip us and drive hard and fast into his body, taking myself to the edge, making my orgasm grow and grow until I can’t hold back anymore.

I come on a cry before collapsing onto his sweaty body, rolling my hips with every jerk of my cock.

All I can hear are our heavy breaths as we recover, and when I can think again, I pull back and smooth his hair from his face.

“No more games,” I say. “I want you. And I’ll do anything to call you mine.”

Barney’s smile makes my chest tight. “I don’t need anything but you.”

8

BARNEY

I shiver as fingers roam down my spine.

“You stayed over,” comes Leif’s deep voice from behind me.

“Is that a problem?”

He crowds in, spooning me, and trails kisses along my hairline. “The only problem is that it’s not a permanent thing.”

“What?” I hurry to roll over and face him. “You … you want …”

Leif’s dark eyes study me, and his lips hitch with a smile. “Us to live together? Damn straight.”

“You don’t think it’s too soon?” I need to check, just in case, but I sure as hell don’t think that. “I mean, we work together all day—you don’t think you’ll get sick of me?”

He snorts. “Tell me you’re kidding. We spend most of our time together as it is. This way just means more sex, and that only seems like an improvement from where I’m standing.”

“A big improvement,” I say, dropping my gaze to his semi.

“Nah-uh. If you get started, we’re going to be late for work.”

I pout. “Just a quick BJ?”

Leif sighs and rolls onto his back, tucking his hands behind his head. “If you insist,” he says, like it’s a hardship, but his cock is rapidly hardening. “Better be fast—we have to leave in half an hour.”

I give him the fastest, deepest blow job I can manage while Leif squirms above me, and after he’s flooded my mouth with his cum, we jump into the shower together, where he jerks me off until I come.

“Best morning ever,” I say, pulling him into a deep kiss.

He cups my face, looking concerned. “You didn’t answer my question though. If moving in is too soon for you—”

“We’ve known each other … ten years? More? You’re not exactly a one-night stand.”

“So that’s a yes?”

I almost roll my eyes, but I’m smiling too hard to even act exasperated. “Here or my place?”

“Either for right now, but ideally I’d want us to get a place of our own.”

Those words make my gut swim with nerves. A business together. A house together. A life together. I swallow back the unexpected lump in my throat. “That sounds perfect.”

Leif refuses to let me give him a celebratory blow job, and as it is, we’re barely out of the door in time. We take separate cars, and he heads for the shop while I make my way to Killer Brew to grab coffees and breakfast.

It’s not until I catch sight of Art that I remember we’re supposed to be going on a date, and after this morning, I’m definitely going to have to cancel.

Maybe I could do it by text? That’s how it was arranged, after all.

I’ve almost convinced myself that it’s totally fine to wimp out when he spots me hovering awkwardly by the counter and makes his way over.

“Barney, how you doing?” He pulls me in to smack a kiss against my cheek.

“Ah, yes, good.”

His eyes narrow. “Everything okay?”

Time to suck it up and let him down easy. “I actually think I have to cancel on you.”

“Okay.”

“Well, not think. I know I have to cancel.”

“Sure thing, we can catch up another time.”

I’m shaking my head before he’s finished talking. “Actually we can’t. I’m seeing someone.”

Instead of him looking annoyed or disappointed, his sudden smile catches me off guard. “You and Leif finally a thing?”

“How did you know?” I’m too surprised to consider denying it.

“Call it a hunch, or maybe just the way you two are basically obsessed with each other. Either way, I’m happy for you.”

“Oh. Yeah. Good.”

“Between you and me, I already knew the date wasn’t going to be a proper date anyway.”

A flicker of annoyance passes through me. “So why did you say yes?”

“Because I wanted to talk to you about something and figured that would be as good of a place as any to do it.”

“Which was …”

“Leif mentioned you’re struggling with being divorced and feeling like since your marriage was over, that’s it for you. Dating is impossible, blah blah blah. I’ve heard it before. A lot. My friend Orson says the same thing, only he’s not divorced, he’s a widower. But see, I think it’s bullshit. And the more people I talk to, the more I’m thinking we should get together to talk about it.”

I chuckle. “Like some kind of AA meeting?”

“Sort of. It should be a positive thing. Somewhere we can support each other when no one else can. Divorce shouldn’t be the dirty word people are making it into—why the hell should any of us stay married if we’re not happy? It makes no goddamn sense.”

“I guess that’s true.”

He nods. “We took a big step, and instead of focusing on it as the end, we should be celebrating it as a new beginning.”

“A new beginning?” I smile before I can stop myself. “Yeah, I like that.”

“Cool, so you’re in?”

I shrug. “I think so. But I’ve got to tell you, I’m not interested in sitting around with a bunch of sad men, going through a midlife crisis.”

“Is that what you’re doing?”

“Well, no.”

“Exactly. And neither are any of the guys I know. That’s how people want to see us, but fuck that. We’re not sad. We didn’t walk away from our marriages so we can upgrade to a young piece of ass. There are lots of reasons, and not all marriages end on a bad note. Trust me, I’ll make it good.”

“What the hell, sure. But I swear, one mention of a convertible or hair plugs and I’m out.”

He chuckles. “Fair enough.”

“So what are you planning on calling this group?”

His face screws up as he thinks. Art is ridiculously attractive. Portuguese or something, with model good looks. “What about … the Divorced Men’s Club?”

“I hate it.”

He grins. “The DMC it is.”

9

LEIF

One Year Later

“Still not sure why I need to come to these things, babe.”

Barney is bouncing around like an overexcitable puppy, and it makes me smile to watch him. We’ve only been in our new place a month, and he’s already taken over the wardrobe and brought home way too many Kill Pen souvenir mugs. I should find those things irritating, but instead, they’re endearing as hell. I am so fucking gone for him.

“It’s his birthday,” Barney calls from the bathroom.

“And?”

“And friends go to other friends’ birthdays.”

“Still don’t see why you need friends outside of me,” I grumble. I’m totally joking, but I’m dying to get out of this thing.

“Because sometimes,” Barney says, reaching up to bop me on the nose, “it’s nice to have a conversation with someone you haven’t had sex with.”

I tilt my head. “But what even is there to talk about, then?”

He laughs and smooths out my shirt. “You look perfect. Make sure you remind those thirsty-ass men who you belong to, thanks.”

“Right back at you.”

He’s wearing tight jeans and a casual button-up shirt, and he looks fucking edible. Especially when his cheeks go red with my compliment. “Ready to go?”

“Question first. If I were to accidentally slip in the kitchen and lop off my finger with a knife, would that be an acceptable excuse to miss this thing?”

“Nope. I know first aid, and you have at least a couple of hours’ leeway before you’d need to have it reattached.”

“Good to know.”

He grabs my hand and pulls me out the door.

As much as I might whine, this group has been good for Barney. They try to get together once a month for drinks, and a few of them have a group chat going. He reads me their conversations sometimes, and it’s nice to know they have his back.

Sure, I want to be the one to show him he’s perfect the way he is and the divorce means sweet fuck all, but Barney has a tendency of getting in his head. The more positive people he surrounds himself with, the less I’ve noticed those moods hitting him, and when they do, he has a whole group of people he can talk with who understand through experience.

The birthday for … Griffin? Or Grady? Or maybe Grant? Is being held in the function area above Killer Brew. It’s an open wooden mezzanine, with a steel-beamed peaked roof and large mullioned windows with a clear view of the night sky.

We’ve barely hit the start of tourist season, and the place is crammed from wall to wall. Steady thunks come from the back room, where people can book axe throwing, a crowd of people waits at the long bar, and the buzz of voices fills the space.

Barney holds my hand as he drags me upstairs. The divorced dudes’ group has about fifteen of them, from Kilborough and surrounding counties, but usually there’s no more than a handful of them who can meet up at a time.

Tonight it looks like all of them and more. Some of the faces are familiar, and some aren’t, but while I might have complained about coming, I’ll still make an effort with his friends because these guys are important to him.

“Drink?” he offers.

“No need.” Art appears beside me, holding out two beers.

“Thanks, man.” I take one, and he passes the other to Barney.

“Good turnout.”

“Yeah, it is.” Barney smiles, and my stare is immediately drawn to his dimples.

“I’m still shocked how many people jumped on this thing over the last year,” I say.

Art nods, holding up his phone and giving it a shake. “There’s more to come too. We’re a safe haven, a chrysalis for the broken.”

My lips twitch. “Are you a drama club too?”

He shoves me. “I’ll have you know people love my inspiring speeches.”

“Yeah, because they’re dramatic and hilarious,” Barney says. He points at the phone. “Who are you recruiting next?”

“An old school friend. He was in here the other week drinking himself stupid.”

Barney cringes. “Not a healthy split, then?”

“Not from what Payne says.”

“Payne Walker?” I ask. He was in the year below us at school with Art.

“Yep. He’ll be moving back soon, so I’ve reached out. He’s still not sure, but he’ll come around.”

“Nice.”

“Ah, fuck.” Art’s relaxed expression tenses as he looks toward the bar. “I got to go.”

He hurries off, and I turn to Barney.

“You’re so much happier,” I say.

He snorts. “Duh. I don’t have a truckload of angst hanging over my head about whether you’ll ever want me the way I want you.”

“Imagine if you’d just asked. If one of us had pulled our heads out of our asses and thrown the question out there.”

He laughs and drops his forehead to my shoulder. “Let’s not even think about that.”

“It would have been over in like a second.”

“Nope.”

“And we could have been together for so much long—”

Barney’s hand seals over my mouth. “Are you trying to upset me?”

“Just making a point.” I grin. “Let’s not do that ever again.”

“Yes, good point. I totally agree.”

“So if I wanted you to wear this …” I pull a gold band out of my pocket. “I should probably tell you then, right?”

“W-what …”

“Don’t worry, this isn’t a proposal. I know you don’t want to get married again, and I’m totally cool with it, but it does mean I have a little problem.”

His lips twitch. “Oh really?”

“Yes. I want some way for people to know you’re spoken for without me having to follow you around snarling at people.”

“Your opinion of me is absurd.”

“You clearly have no idea how many guys have checked you out since we walked in.”

“My guess is one, and he’s standing in front of me, holding a ring.”

“You go on thinking that.”

Barney reaches up and takes the ring before sliding it onto his finger. “Perfect fit.”

“Fucking duh. I know everything about you.”

“Including the size of my fingers?” he asks skeptically.

“Or maybe I stole one of your other rings to compare it to.”

“That sounds more like it.” He tugs me in for a kiss. “The problem is, I have noticed the attention you’ve been getting, and I don’t like it.”

“Well, lucky I got this, then, isn’t it?” I pull a second ring from my pocket, and Barney’s smile is exactly the one I was hoping for. He puts it on me, and I swear my heart stops for a beat.

“You look good in gold,” he says.

“No, I look good with you. Only you.”

Well, us and this room full of misfits he’s recruited. Art may have been the mastermind behind the DMC, but Barney’s played a huge part in finding people who need them. But his big heart is one of the many, many reasons why I love him.

“Want to do karaoke?” he asks.

“Not even a little bit.”

He grabs my hand and tugs me over anyway. And I let him.

Because when it comes to Barney, all I want is to make him happy.

OTHER BOOKS BY SAXON JAMES

FRAT WARS:

Frat Wars: King of Thieves

Frat Wars: Master of Mayhem

Frat Wars: Presidential Chaos

NEVER JUST FRIENDS SERIES:

Just Friends

Fake Friends

Getting Friendly

Friendly Fire

Bonus Short: Friends with Benefits

LOVE’S A GAMBLE SERIES:

Good Times & Tan Lines

Bet on Me

Calling Your Bluff

CU HOCKEY SERIES WITH EDEN FINLEY:

Power Plays & Straight A’s

Face Offs & Cheap Shots

Goal Lines & First Times

Line Mates & Study Dates

Puck Drills & Quick Thrills

PUCKBOYS SERIES WITH EDEN FINLEY:

Egotistical Puckboy

Irresponsible Puckboy

And if you’re after something a little sweeter, don’t forget my YA pen name

S. M. James.

These books are chock full of adorable, flawed characters with big hearts.

https://geni.us/smjames

WANT MORE FROM ME?

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www.saxonjamesauthor.com

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