Chapter 8

Patrice paused and looked at Callum. “You’re smiling. You love what I’m doing to you, too.”

That wasn’t a question. Callum grabbed Patrice’s hair and pressed their lips together with careless abandon.

“I do,” he panted. “I am…enjoying it. Please don’t stop.”

The next minute passed in a blur of grabbing and kissing and sniffing and licking one another. They ignored the eyes unquestionably on them—probably full of envy. They forgot the place they were in, and a shouted, “Get a room!” fell on deaf ears.

Callum ran his hands all over Patrice’s body, feeling hard muscles and soft, sensitive skin with his perceptive fingertips. “Take me. Make me yours. I have no one here. No one who cares.”

Patrice’s breath felt warm on his throat. “Are you sure?”