Rain touched Pip’s hair and leaned away from the couch, then turned to look at Tristan. He tossed his head in the kitchen’s direction. “He’s out cold.”
“I’m glad he had a good time tonight.”
Quietly, they walked down the hall, Tristan so aware of Rain’s body close to his. He hadn’t had a chance to touch Rain, not even a little brush of the hand, all evening. Only six months ago, he’d been shoving guys into bathroom stalls, letting them suck his dick, while still holding his drink and not spilling a drop. And now here he was, tongue-tied and paralyzed every time Rain laughed at one of his stupid jokes. He wanted so badly to kiss him. But when? How? Were they going too fast for Rain?
“Pip gets real tired on Friday nights.” Rain settled in a chair at the kitchen table. “Sometimes he won’t even have dinner and goes straight to bed.”