12 Chapter 12

“Wait, damn it. Wait.”

As kisses went, it was awkward, almost angry yet powerfully arousing. Doyle’s lips tasted of hot sauce, beer, and man. They ground against Bobby’s, while a questing tongue probed and sought entrance. Bobby could not resist that demand and opened to the other man’s invasion. Omygod, omygod,omygod. His head spun, his heart slammed against his ribs, and he went iron-hard at once.

Falling into a whirlpool of sensations, he was not ready when as abruptly as Doyle had grabbed him, the Irishman shoved him away. “Go. Just get out. That was not supposed to happen and I won’t remember it tomorrow. You’d do best not to either.”

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