“Chill.” Dylan scooted closer, stroking Apollo’s flank like he might gentle a horse. “Just tell me if I’m about to make things worse.”
Just being here like this is making it worse. It was the truth—they were walking a knife edge between casual friendship and...something else, something Apollo refused to name. All of a sudden, he was all too aware that this was the first time another man had really touched him since Neal. And these exploratory, cautious touches were very un-Neal-like. Dylan ran his knuckles down Apollo’s spine, making Apollo shiver. There was something unbelievably sexy about Dylan’s hesitance, and Apollo’s cock stirred.
“This okay?”
No. “Yeah,” he said, voice too gruff. He needed to end this, but then Dylan found a knot of nerve-endings that seemed to have been waiting for his thumbs, and Apollo gasped from how damn good it felt. His head fell back, connecting with Dylan’s shoulder. His eyes fluttered open to find Dylan’s summer sky eyes right there, watching him. Waiting for him.
Fuck. His face was so close that his warm breath tickled Apollo’s cheek. “This good?”
He continued to work that spot, and Apollo moaned, low and lusty.
No. Not lusty. No lusting. This is—
Dylan. Dylan, who was right there. Did he arch up? Did Dylan bend forward? Such questions flittered away as soft lips grazed his mouth. And oh holy fuck, Apollo needed this every bit as much as he’d needed those hands on him. His tongue snaked out, tracing the seam of Dylan’s lips, desperate for a taste.
“Oh.” Just that single, soft surprised sound from Dylan cut through his fog. What the fuck was he doing? Kissing Dustin’s little brother? Kissing someone not Neal? That last one made his throat burn as he pulled away. Fucking thinking with your dick, idiot. He didn’t get to have trysts with the babysitter while Neal was...not here. Not ever going to be here again.
It was all too much for him. “We can’t do this.” Pulling away, he stood. And yeah, he was hard, and Dylan probably wasn’t going to miss that, but fuck. He couldn’t stay in that tub another minute.
“Wait. Let’s talk—” Dylan stood too.
“No talking.” Apollo buried his face in a towel. His ring caught on a loose thread, sending a jolt of guilt straight to his heart. He was the worst kind of idiot, letting this happen.
“It was just a kiss. Doesn’t have to mean anything—”
“It didn’t,” Apollo said far too curtly, but his chest felt cracked open and hell if he could moderate his tone.
“Well, okay then.” Dylan’s voice was sharp as he stepped around him. “I just don’t want things to be weird.”
“They won’t be,” Apollo lied.
“Of course they will be.” Dylan’s laugh was like bitter taffy. Sweet with a bite. “I’m just saying. We’re both adults. There’s no reason we couldn’t—”
“We are never going there.” Apollo cut that argument off before Dylan could convince him to be stupid. “Again. Ever. Am I clear?”
“You. Kissed. Me.” Dylan poked him in the chest, clearly not going to let him have the fantasy where Dylan had been the one to close the gap. “But, sure, lecture away if that makes you feel better.”
“Sorry.” Apollo knew he was being a dick. “I just don’t want to lead you on—”
“Oh, trust me, there’s no risk of that.” Dylan shook his head. “Night, Apollo.”
Dylan headed back into the house, leaving him standing there. Apollo watched him, stood there until the second-story window to Dylan’s room lit up, leaving him all alone in the dark, dripping wet, impervious to the cool night air thanks to super-heated kisses that were not meant to be.
Chapter Eight
Dylan was done with this week. Apollo had worked long hours all week and avoided him when home like Dylan was contagious. Ha. If he was suffering from anything, it was awkwarditis, caused by one stubborn SEAL who refused to talk about what had happened like adults. But whatever. Allie and her friends wanted to go out, so out he would go.
“That shirt doesn’t fit,” Chloe observed from the doorway of Dylan’s room. “You should put it in the giveaway box.”
“It fits.” Dylan tugged it down a bit.
“Why’d you put goop on your head?” Sophia asked. “It smells.”
“It’s hair product. It makes my hair look nice.” Dylan gave himself a last glance in the mirror. He did look smoking. Close fitting lavender shirt with little white buttons, black jeans with a silver belt, and his favorite clubbing boots—thick enough to protect his toes from stomping, but still light enough for easy dancing.
“I want some!” Chloe grabbed for the can of mousse.
“Your Baba would roast me if I did your hair all crazy.” Dylan took the can back.
“Please!”
“Please!” Both girls stuck out their lower lips and did their best pout, crowding him when he tried to leave the room.
Oh what the heck. It wasn’t like he and Apollo were already on great terms. “How about buns? And then it really is time for pajamas.”
He had just finished taming the last of Chloe’s curls into a space-age-looking bun when he heard the door downstairs.
“Baba!” The girls ran toward the door.
“What’s this?” Apollo gestured between the girls and Dylan as he made his way downstairs.
“Dylan’s leaving.” Chloe did the mock pout again as Apollo lifted her up with a grimace. Damn it. The man needed to see someone about his back acting up, but when Dylan had mentioned it earlier in the week, he’d waved off the concern.
“Leaving?” Both Apollo’s eyebrows went up. “Like that?”
“I’m going out with some friends after you get the girls settled.” Dylan tried to sound casual, control the inexplicable racing of his heart.
“Girls. Pajamas and teeth brushing. Now.” Apollo gestured at the stairs. “I’ll be up to do the story in a moment.”
Dylan waited until the girls were headed up the stairs to speak. “You know the stern parental thing really doesn’t work on me. I’m not some teenager sneaking out of the house.”
“You didn’t let me know you’d be going out.” Apollo didn’t drop the ‘tude. Still in his uniform, he looked more rumpled than his usual perfection, deep lines bracketing his eyes and mouth.
If he wasn’t being such a colossal dick, Dylan would offer another back rub. And it wasn’t like Dylan had had some grand plan to seduce Apollo the other night. The kiss had just kind of happened. And then Apollo flipped out, and now, instead of a beer and back rub, all Dylan had to offer was his absence. Hell, Apollo should be happy he was leaving for a few hours.
“You texted that you were running late. I didn’t want you to feel bad if you got trapped at work. I was ready to text my crew and bail if that happened.”
“Where are you headed? And with whom?”