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he wanted from him. He’d been the same lonely, desperate, sad sack he always was, and he’d had enough of that with the last asshole he’d dated. He’d let Marsh walk in and walk out and he’d been left feeling like shit about it in the aftermath, and that wasn’t how it was going to go down this time.
    Because something was about to go down. Goddamn it all, it was.
    Dominant. In control. Greg could do this. Grounding himself, he twisted to intertwine his fingers with Marsh’s, and he slid his other hand up the hot, damp skin of Marsh’s side. He lifted his chin and looked him straight in the eyes.
    And his voice didn’t crack. It came out all husky and low, and nothing like him, but exactly like how he felt, deep in the parts of him that were starved for contact. “I’m glad I ran into you. You were going to show me that thing. In your room.”
    Marsh’s pupils were dilated, and his breath caught. It made Greg want to lean in closer. God, please invite me to your room. Still, there was mischief in Marsh’s smile. “Was I?”
    “Yes.”
    A breath and then another, and the cacophony of noise from the video game in the living room was bleeding into the hall. There were people home. Any one of them could stumble onto this scene and think all kinds of things that were way too close to the truth, and Greg didn’t care.
    He gave in to instinct and pushed himself closer into Marsh’s space. This was putting himself out there, but that was what take-charge kinds of guys did. Right?
    Lips close to Marsh’s ear, he said, voice rumbling, “I’ve been dreaming about sucking you again for days.”
    And that was all he had to say. The next thing he knew, he was being tugged into Marsh’s room, the door closing behind them, and then his back was against the door. Marsh turned the lock and stood before him, one thigh between his, hands braced to either side of his face. Upward pressure forced Greg to spread his legs.
    Oh God. And Greg could have gone for that. He hadn’t been fucked in years, and he’d never been fucked up against a door, not by someone strong enough to hold him up. To make him take it. Just like that, he was hard and aching and ready to go.
    But that wasn’t how this was supposed to happen. With one swift move, he flipped them, crashing Marsh against the wall and pressing his own body into his. They were about the same height, for all that Greg felt smaller, and they were eye to eye, mouth to mouth and cock to cock. He slid a hand up under Marsh’s towel. Cupped his palm around that thick, firm thigh.
    Marsh’s breath hitched. “So what were you wanting me to show you?”
    “I think I can find it. Just needed you to let me in.”
    “Door’s open.”
    Greg looked down to watch the path he was tracing out over that golden skin, pushing back sparse, coarse hair. He nudged the sides of the towel aside, and it was all he could think about, getting his hands between Marsh’s legs. Fitting his mouth to every part of him there, where he was all musk and man and sex, and he wanted this. Needed it.
    “Door’s always open,” Greg said, breathy and dry. “Doesn’t mean anybody’s home.”
    And there was a moment. Greg’s words hung in the air, thoughtless and stupid, and he hadn’t meant to call Marsh on the disappearing act he’d pulled these past few days, but there was no pulling it back now.
    “Hey,” Marsh said. It was too serious.
    Greg shook his head. “Sorry.” This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. He was ready to sink to his knees and start exploring with tongue and lips, but strong hands curled around his upper arms.
    “Hey.”
    Greg looked up and connected with probing, blue-grey eyes. Everything went still, the heat dissipating for all that the two of them were pressed against each other and hard. And he couldn’t keep it in, his annoyance and his fear. “You were avoiding me.”
    Marsh didn’t flinch. “Maybe.”
    “Don’t.” It was too honest, too honest by half,