No Place That Far Read Free Page A

letting his fingers hiss across the recently shaved hair—almost to the skin, but not quite—as he opened to Timur’s assertive tongue.
    And, goddammit, that was the moment the elevator lurched to a halt, and the quiet ding startled them both. They separated, and Marcus was already thanking God they’d reached their floor when two things happened at once.
    First, he realized they were only on the third floor.
    Second, the door opened, and a family poured in through the door, Mom and kids dressed for the swimming pool. Which he remembered was also on the fifth floor. Fuck.
    He and Timur stood against the back wall, both using their jackets for a little modesty, and they stared straight ahead while the doors closed and the elevator carried the two men and the cluster of chatty children and their mother upward. Six elevators in this hotel, and they had to pick this one, didn’t they?
    The journey from the first to the third floor hadn’t been nearly long enough—Marcus could have made out with Timur against that wall until they reached the five-hundredth floor, for all he cared. Getting from the third to the fifth? Ages. By the time they finally reached Timur’s floor, Julien and Chris would probably be celebrating their tenth anniversary downstairs.
    Finally, though, it stopped. The doors opened, and the kids and their mother were gone. Marcus exhaled. He reached for Timur, fully intending to pick up where they’d left off, but Timur held up a card key with the hotel’s logo on it.
    â€œThis way. Isn’t far.”
    Not far. Thank God.
    Though as they stepped out of the elevator, walking fast and staying a few inches apart, it dawned on him that he thought he’d watched a documentary on the French Foreign Legion a few years ago, and he could have sworn they’d said something about hundred-mile forced marches. It was entirely possible that he and Timur had very different ideas about “not far”.
    But not this time.
    Three doors down from the elevator, Timur slid the key into a reader with hands that were way, way too steady for someone in this state. The door clicked, and he pushed it open, gesturing for Marcus to go in ahead of him.
    Marcus’s legs obeyed in spite of his excitement and inebriation, and he stepped into the room. Behind him, the door shut, and he had time for a few holy shit heartbeats and a gulp before strong hands materialized on his waist.
    â€œShouldn’t stay away long,” Timur murmured beneath his ear. “People will notice.”
    â€œI’d fuck you on the wedding cake if that was the only option.” Marcus turned before those strong hands pushed him toward the bed—nothing teasing about it, though his heart was racing from the anticipation all the same.
    He did manage to get his jacket off before they reached the bed. Within moments, he was lying flat on the mattress, Timur on top, both of them with shoes still on and neither of them caring even a bit.
    Normally, Marcus would challenge Timur for the top spot, but he was too drunk and mellow to do that this time. Timur kissed him again and lowered himself some more, just enough to cover Marcus’s body and rub their groins together.
    Marcus pulled at Timur’s shirt and got to the skin underneath just as Timur was pushing against him. The man was solid, rippling muscle, hot and smooth to the touch, but while Marcus was usually happy to get them both fully undressed, right now, all he wanted was to get off, so he pulled at Timur’s belt and opened it, then button, zip, and he pushed the trousers down along with the underwear. Timur’s cock sprang free, and Marcus’s mouth watered. He was long, thick and ready, and with all those muscles around, Timur likely fucked like a machine. Perfect.
    He stroked the length, which sped up Timur’s movements. The man was so eager to get Marcus out of his clothes, he damn near ripped the seams of the tux. They