Out of Sync by Bronwyn Green (@Bronwyn_Green)
Ten years ago, Morgan Weaver walked away from everything he loved—his burgeoning career as a composer, his cello, and his best friend, James. Family obligations and guilt keep him tied to a job he hates, and his dreams have collected even more dust than his instrument.
James Shepherd was left reeling when Morgan abandoned not only their dreams of writing and performing together, but their friendship. James forged on to become an internationally known musician, but he’s always felt Morgan’s loss and has never been able to shake the feeling that he’s responsible for the other man’s choice to leave everything behind.
A simple request from Morgan’s sister brings the men together in a way neither of them expected, and long-denied desire bubbles to the surface overwhelming them both. Knowing it’s only temporary, Morgan finds himself lost in a haze of submission, finally able to experience being at James’ mercy and determined to enjoy it while it lasts. James, however, has other plans and is equally determined to show Morgan he can have all he’s ever wanted—including what they have together.
James stared at Morgan. His wide gaze kept darting between James’ eyes and his lips, and his expression bordered on desperation and need. It was a much better look than he’d had earlier. He’d only seen Morgan that defeated one other time, and he refused to let it happen, again—not if he could stop it.
He tightened his fingers in Morgan’s silky curls and tugged back his head. Giving Morgan all the time in the world to stop him, James slowly lowered his face, but once he touched Morgan’s lips, he was fucking lost. They parted on a gasp, and James wasn’t sure if it was the need for more air or to speak. All he knew was that Morgan’s mouth was open, and he was sweeping inside, tasting the smooth sting of scotch and the warmth of the man he’d never stopped wanting.
Morgan’s fingers clenched on James’ arms, but he didn’t push James away. Instead, he just hung on. James slid his other arm around Morgan’s waist and pulled their hips flush together. The groan that escaped Morgan’s lips as their hard cocks ground against each other was the most delicious thing James had ever tasted.
Anger slammed into lust, and he kissed Morgan harder, deeper, walking him backward until his back was against the wall. When James had come home and found Morgan dozing on the couch with his computer open and an empty glass of scotch, he’d lost it. He’d thought he was getting through to the other man—helping to pull him out of his self-imposed corporate prison. But leave him alone for one night, and he was right back fucking to it.
And the way Morgan had snapped at him had sent James’ emotions careening everywhere. Pride in the fact that Morgan had stood up for himself. Arousal that mixed weirdly with that pride. Worry for whatever had set him off in the first place, because James knew that, as explosively angry as Morgan had been, it hadn’t been directed at James—not all of it, anyway. And concern that this man he cared about was going to continue to trade his happiness for a life of misery and servitude. All of James’ emotions twisted together until the only action that seemed remotely sensible was to kiss Morgan like he’d been dying to since he’d shown up in his office less than a week ago.
He trailed his lips down the side of Morgan’s neck, nipping with his teeth, drawing shudders out of the man. His fingers convulsed on James’ arms, and every little bite drew Morgan’s hips forward in small sharp jerks.
“Jamie,” he breathed. “What are you doing?”
He kissed his way up to Morgan’s ear then sucked the lobe between his lips and flicked at it with the tip of his tongue before releasing him. “I’m doing what you told me to.”
“What…I—” His sentence ended on a gasp as James raked his teeth over that same bit of flesh.
James drew back a little so he could look into Morgan’s eyes. His pupils had practically swallowed the warm brown of his irises. James dragged the pad of his thumb across Morgan’s full bottom lip. “You told me to do what I wanted, remember?”
Morgan nodded, somehow managing to appear both desperately aroused and ready to bolt, at the same time.
“So, that’s what I’m doing.” James chuckled quietly as he tilted his head back and forth as he considered his next words. “Well, maybe not exactly what I want.”
“No?” Morgan’s voice came out rusty, as if he rarely spoke.
“Well, you’re not tied up and naked, and I’m not finding out all the pretty shades of pink your arse can turn.”
Morgan’s eyes dilated a little further, and his breath caught, his chest lifting and holding tight against James’.
“Nor is my prick buried balls deep inside you, so…no. I’m not doing quite what I want. Not yet.”
Morgan swallowed thickly. “Oh.”
“But I’m not going to do any of those things.” James thrust against Morgan, unable to keep his hips still.
Morgan thrust back, clearly needing more than James was giving him. “You’re not?”
James leaned forward and nipped the other man’s lower lip, pulling back slightly before releasing it. “Not yet.”
“When?” the other man choked out.
“Here’s the thing, Morgs… If this is going to make you run from me like it did last time…” His voice cracked a little on that last word as ten years’ worth of guilt suffocated him. “Make you run from the things that are most important to you, it’s not happening. Not now, not ever.”
Lips slightly parted and gaze hungry, Morgan shook his head.
James sobered. “If all I ever am to you is your friend, I’d rather have that than tonight… No matter how fucking hot I know it would be.”
Morgan met his gaze, and James couldn’t glance away if he wanted to.
“I’m not looking to pick out china patterns with you—you don’t need to worry about that,” James rushed to say. “I’m in no position to be in a relationship. And, from what I understand, you’re in no position to be completely out.”
Morgan nodded slowly.
James ached for the other man, hating that he felt he had to hide who he was, but James pushed it aside. That wasn’t up to him—it wasn’t his choice to make. He took a deep breath and pushed back to the conversation at hand. “But, no matter how hard I want to make you come…no matter how badly I want to feel your mouth around my cock, I’m not willing to be the cause of not seeing you, again, for another ten years.”
Morgan fisted the front of James’ shirt. “When’d you get so fucking noble?” Without waiting for an answer, he yanked James forward and captured his lips, pushing inside and taking his mouth as thoroughly as James had claimed his moments before.
Bronwyn Green is an author, blogger and compulsive crafter. She lives Michigan with her husband, two kids and four somewhat psychotic cats. When not frantically writing, she can be found helping in her youngest child’s classroom or binge-watching Netflix while working on her latest craft project. Bronwyn loves to talk to her readers and can be found at www.bronwyngreen.com.
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