Read Get What You Need for Free Online

corner.
    “Hey,” Jason said, not looking away from the screen, thumbs flying over the controller.
    “Hey.” Greg looked on for a minute. “That the new Call of Duty ?”
    “Yup. Totally awesome.” He listed to the side, tongue sticking out from between his lips. For a fraction of a second, he darted his gaze Greg’s way. “You want dibs?”
    Hell yeah, Greg did. He shook his head, though. “Maybe tomorrow.” Ha. Hahahahahahaha. Ha. And maybe he’d also decide to give up on a PhD and get a job at McDonald’s instead.
    “Suit yourself.”
    Greg pointed toward the kitchen with his thumb. “There any of my Chinese left from last night?” If anybody had eaten the last of his sweet and sour, they were going to get a talking to.
    “Should be.”
    Better be. And if Greg were a better person, he’d offer to share, but then dinner would turn into dinner and conversation, which would turn into dinner and conversation and a drink or two, and maybe just one quick game, and no. There wasn’t time for that. Besides, he wasn’t sure he had enough to go around, and he was starving.
    Greg watched for another minute, then shook his head and meandered down the hall. He barely hesitated at the offshoot that led toward the little bedroom under the stairs. And he was going to resist. He really was.
    Fuck it, who was he kidding? He put his hand to the wall and swung around the corner toward Marsh’s room. His heart dropped the second he saw the empty door and the total lack of a muscle-bound blond anywhere within.
    He cursed himself in his head for getting his hopes up. Sliding his hand down the wall, he pushed off it.
    The day after he and Marsh had…done what they’d done, he’d woken up and stumbled down the stairs, feeling hopeful and anxious and ready to be crushed by disappointment all at once. He’d made up so many possible scenarios for how things could go down, but the only one he hadn’t been prepared for was to not see Marsh at all—to get no reaction from him.
    An empty room Saturday morning had been par for the course. Marsh had a lot of friends and a lot of obligations with his team. By Saturday night it had been distressing. By Sunday, disheartening, and Monday Greg had started to feel sick.
    Now it was Tuesday evening, and he was edging toward resigned and numb.
    He shouldn’t have done it. Shouldn’t have taken what Marsh offered. A taste of cock and flesh and touch—touch he’d been wanting for so long—had made all the months of repression fade away. It had made resuming his sexless, solitary life unbearable.
    But he’d bear it, all right. It was what he was good at, pushing away the things he wanted. He was goal-oriented and addicted to his work.
    And he was lonely and horny, goddammit.
    Grumbling to himself, he turned, only to slam right into a damp, bare, rippling chest.
    “Jesus Christ.”
    Greg couldn’t have said it better himself. He reared back, one hand coming up, and— Oh. Oh, he’d just walked into Marsh. Half-naked Marsh, fresh from the shower, wrapped in a towel and dripping, and repression was a lost cause, was stupid, was the most pointless thing Greg had ever heard of in his life. God, Marsh smelled good.
    Dropping his hand, Greg blinked hard and tried to get a grip on himself. “Um—”
    “Hey.”
    “Hi. I—” What the hell was he supposed to say? “You’re here.”
    Marsh tipped his head to the side, one eyebrow rising. “I do live here.”
    “Right. Sure.” Then why haven’t I seen you in four days?
    Marsh chuckled and pushed past him, body brushing all along Greg’s, and Marsh wasn’t clumsy. He exuded grace and strength, and before Greg could stop himself, he was grabbing Marsh’s wrist.
    Marsh rounded, still all up in Greg’s space, eyes dark. “Yeah?”
    “I—” Greg had to get his feet under him. He had to take control.
    Because that had been the whole problem the other night, hadn’t it? He’d let Marsh invade his space and kiss him and take what