nothing but muscle to grab there. He moaned again, and the sound traveled through his body, awakening the rest of him to the moment, to the scent of guns instead of roses, the brush of leather instead of lace.
Kelly gasped as Nick began to pull away. He didn’t have the strength yet to sit up to follow. Their lips dragged as they separated. Nick’s fingers released Kelly’s hair and slid out from under him as he pushed himself up. Kelly finally opened his eyes, but he didn’t let go of Nick’s shirt. His heart was hammering and his mind was churning, making him light-headed.
“Well,” Kelly finally breathed. “No shit.”
Nick laughed and ran his thumb across his lip. Kelly knew him well enough to know when Nick was nervous, and he was nervous now. He tightened his grip on Nick’s shirt to keep him from getting up. Nick turned hesitant green eyes on him, waiting for his verdict. Kelly had never really appreciated the color of Nick’s eyes.
“Do that again,” he whispered.
Nick took in a deep breath and then let it out slowly, like he was trying to calm himself. He patted Kelly’s hand, taking it in his and gently extricating his shirt. “Let’s just let that one settle with the Percocet, okay?”
He made to stand, and Kelly was forced to let him go.
“Yeah, okay.”
Nick was walking away, running a hand through his hair, and Kelly realized his entire body was still buzzing. It might have been from the painkillers, but he was willing to place bets on his buddy right now.
It was the same feeling he got when his phone rang. The same feeling as waking up in the hospital to find Nick holding his hand. The same warmth of a blanket wrapping around his shoulders, and something inside him screamed for him to pursue it.
“Hey, Nick,” he whispered.
Nick stopped and rolled his neck, like he might have been irritated by Kelly’s repeated attempts to keep him from descending the stairs. He turned, though, the same easy smile on his face, his feelings masked by his legendary patience.
“Is the rest of it like that too?” Kelly asked.
Nick ran his teeth across his lip, beginning to nod. “Isn’t it always if you have the right dance partner?”
Kelly stared at him, finding himself nodding. Jesus, was it possible he was considering Nick O’Flaherty a dance partner right now? Yes. Yes, he was.
“You’re not going to ask me to fuck you now, are you?” Nick asked, deadpan.
Kelly began to laugh. “The thought was crossing my mind.”
Nick’s smile faded. “Are you serious?”
“Sort of. You got the engine revved a little.”
Nick rolled his eyes and turned toward the stairs. “Put him back in the garage then. I don’t drive automatics,” he said as he thumped down the stairs.
Nick woke with a jerk as a hand grabbed at his arm. He peered over in the moonlight. “You okay?”
“I need to move,” Kelly grunted.
They’d shared enough beds—and floors—over the years that Nick knew Kelly slept on his side. Being forced to sleep flat on his back made him restless and miserable, but he hadn’t recovered the strength in his torso yet to roll onto his side without help or something to grab onto and pull.
Nick fumbled for the pillows he’d stacked between them and tossed them to the foot of the bed, rolling onto his side and holding his arm out. “Come on.”
Kelly used Nick’s forearm to pull himself to his side, and as soon as he was settled, Nick took the spare pillows and wedged them behind Kelly’s back to rest against. He was hyperaware of how close he was, of his breaths hitting Kelly’s cheek as he reached across him. Goddammit, why had he even agreed to that kiss in the first place? Now the next day or so would be awkward as hell as he tried to forget how fucking good Kelly felt in his arms.
Once he was certain there was support behind Kelly, he took the pillow he’d been using and pushed it against Kelly’s chest to give him something to hold.
“I don’t need that,”