“You’re not dessert, Zane. You’re the main course, Ty informed him in a husky drawl. And you have about five seconds to take your pick of flat surface before I do it for you.”

“Tease,” Ty accused softly.“Do I have your attention now?” Zane drawled.“You never lost it,” Ty responded before thinking better of it.”

“Fuck,” Zane murmured, pulling Ty closer. “You’re worse than heroin.”

“You’re easily distracted, aren’t you?” Ty deadpanned.“Not really,” Zane said smoothly, dragging one hand down Ty’schest. “I’m still focused on you.”

“You were right, you know,” Ty whispered.“About what?”Ty swallowed hard. “I sold my soul a long time ago.”Ty gripped Zane’s shoulder and pressed him down,laying him out again, then stretched out over Zane, his handdragging down Zane’s body to push at his boxers.“Ty,” Zane gasped.Ty kissed him. Zane trailed the tips of his fingers downTy’s arm, sliding over the tattoo and the scars and the muscles.“Do you really believe that?” Zane asked.“I know it. I will never be the man you think I am.”Zane’s breaths came harder. “We’ve both been trying sohard to be worthy of each other.”

“In your thirties something strange starts to happen. It’s a mere hiccup at first, an instant of hesitation. How old are you? Oh, I’m — you start confidently, but then you stop. You were going to say thirty-three, but you’re not. You’re thirty-five. And then you’re bothered, because you wonder if this is the beginning of the end. It is, of course, but it’s decades before you admit it.”