Chapter 12

As hot as Johnny’s flesh was, his tongue was still cool, tasting of beer and the chocolates the fans kept pressing him to eat. Ryan shouldn’t have known that. Johnny shouldn’t have opened to him. But here they were, kissing like it was the end of the world—which it probably was since his brain had clearly dropped him off in bizarro land—and there was Johnny, hooking his free arm around the back of Ryan’s neck to keep him close.

When Ryan broke away, Johnny tightened his hold and ran his tongue over his glistening lower lip. “When you figure out how it is you do that, don’t tell me. I want the pleasure of having to figure it out for myself. With lots and lots of test runs.”

“Do what?” Ryan asked, breathless. Johnny’s tongue kept teasing him, slipping between his lips and darting away again.

“Kiss like that.” His eyes danced in pure mischief. “I’d say I’m the one in the coma, but I’m not nearly creative enough to conjure you up all on my own.”