Chapter 52

Jay often touched Dean, running fingers along every line and crevice, trying to make a living sketch in his memory. In years to come, memory might be all he had to keep him warm, so he understood his reasons, but the other night…Dean seemed to attempt the same thing. Everything the big man did…as if he’d wanted Jay, and Dean might never go away, left Jay heavy-hearted. The night came as a tormenting blur of Dean lifting him, of sitting on the big man’s lap, of the discovery Jay’s head fitted so naturally into the curve of Dean’s shoulder, of kisses, hungry, passionate caresses, of being stroked, explored, and fondled. Something had changed.