No Place That Far Read Free

fucking drink.
    â€œI mean, I…” He cleared his throat and picked up his glass, hoping it still had at least a few precious drops of booze pooling at the bottom. “Can’t drive after I’ve been…” He gestured with the glass, and, Christ on a cracker, he was drunk, because his brain registered a second too late that the damp glass had slipped through his sweaty fingers.
    Timur’s hand came out of nowhere and caught the glass.
    For a moment, they both froze, Marcus’s empty hand hovering in the air, Timur’s holding the glass a couple of inches below it.
    Then Timur chuckled, his eyes narrowing just right to make the tanned skin at the corners crinkle, which did all kinds of crazy fuckery to Marcus’s pulse. He set the glass down again and faced Marcus. “Two left hands, yes?”
    It had to be a joke, because there was no recrimination in it, and Timur smiled at him again. If a guy built like a wall could be playful, it was this. “Looks like it.” Their eyes met again, and there was definitely interest in Timur’s, though Marcus was just drunk enough to jump to conclusions. But Timur was standing really close now, and Marcus only hoped it wasn’t because the man thought he’d keel over drunk. Though ending up in those arms might not be the worst thing that had ever happened to him.
    Marcus glanced around, but the party was still going strong and likely would be for several hours. This was the Wilde’s crowd. They had stamina when it came to dancing and alcohol. He and Timur wouldn’t even be missed if they left now. Under slightly different circumstances, he’d just ask Timur straight out whether he fancied a bit of action, but he didn’t feel quite so confident with this man. He might misread Timur so badly it’d end in embarrassment and awkwardness, and while Marcus wouldn’t have minded the risk with a total stranger, Timur struck him as too sweet and gentle to be embarrassed like that. Damn his soft spot for big teddy bear types.
    â€œI think I’ll check if the hotel has a free room.” He turned away a bit. “Shower might be good to clear my head.”
    â€œYou could use my shower.”
    There was no way to misread that, was there? Marcus looked into Timur’s eyes, but the color distracted him from the expression. Marcus drew closer, close enough to whisper in Timur’s ear, “You inviting me to your room?” Just making sure Timur knew what he was asking.
    Again, Timur didn’t pull back, didn’t insist on any distance between their bodies, and Marcus placed a hand on Timur’s shoulder to test the theory. Solid muscle, but not so much as a shrug. Nobody paid them any mind. And getting laid would get Marcus away from the wedding for a little while and away from his dark and bitter thoughts. Doing the best man at a wedding—well, it was a first, but it seemed like a really good idea just then.
    Timur half turned and placed a hand between Marcus’s shoulder blades. “My room is that way.”

Chapter Two
    Timur may have been the quiet teddy bear type, but apparently there wasn’t a passive bone in his body. Or a shy one, for that matter.
    In the elevator, he pushed the button for the fifth floor and didn’t even wait for the doors to close.
    No prelude, no long, lingering look. He grabbed a fistful of Marcus’s jacket, shoved him back against the wall and kissed him. Shock and a few gallons of booze kept Marcus from responding immediately, but, damn, he still caught on quick. He wrapped his arms around Timur’s narrow waist, as much for balance as to pull their bodies closer.
    Timur tasted like whiskey, and he smelled of… Hell, Marcus couldn’t put his finger on it. Pure masculinity, he decided, and took in another long, deep breath through his nose. Yes. Masculinity. And it was hot. Jesus.
    He curved a hand around the back of Timur’s head,