Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 6

anything like that before." Sam looked at him and gave a smile full of wonder. "I never knew…"
    Bran couldn't say the same, but he hadn't expected doing it this morning. After the man had gone all Crazy McHottie on him last night, he figured he would need to avoid him at all cost; but Sam had been so repentant, seemed so guilty for scaring him— quietly talking him down— he decided to give him another chance. All night, Samael had reached for him. If he turned in his sleep, before long, he was pulled back into a warm embrace again. It had been so long since he had felt anything like it. He'd greatly enjoyed the cuddles, and wasn't scared anymore.
    So, this morning when Sam had started humping his butt, his cock all hard and warm… well, come on. He was so hot, and Bran was only human after all.
    Samael seemed to be searching Brandon's face. He didn't know what was on it, or what the guy saw, but all of a sudden, the wonder transformed into what looked like pain, affection, and something else that Bran couldn't name, before he finally glanced away again.
    "No one has ever looked at me like you do." Sam's voice was a heavy rasp.
    "How do I look at you?" Bran whispered back. He knew he had a tendency to wear his heart on his sleeve, and his face was very expressive. That was why he'd originally cut his hair so he could hide behind it. He hoped he wasn't showing too much.
    "With lust and affection, you look at me like you want me, Little Raven."
    Yep, he was showing too much. Crap! He knew it was too soon to feel anything for this man, but he did. It wasn't the L-word, not by any stretch of the imagination, but it was something. The guy was perfect. If he could create his dream man, Samael would be it.
    He had to nip it in the bud, wall it up, and hold back. He just wasn't ready to put himself out there after what Chris had done to him. Already, he trusted Samael too much for his own good. If he allowed it, Sam could really hurt him.
    Pull away. Put on the brakes.
    "Come on." Brandon sat up on the bed and threw his legs over the side. "You can't tell me people don't throw themselves at you. You're smokin'. Definitely could be a model without even trying, just by walking down the street."
    As Bran was going to get up and leave the bed, he was pulled backward into a solid chest and warm breath tickled his ear. "No one but you, Little Raven."
    He closed his eyes and tried to breathe through the ache in his chest. Shit, this was not good. "What does that mean? Little Raven?"
    He felt the man smile into his neck. "It's your name."
    "My name?"
    Samael pulled back to grin at him. "Yes. In Gaelic, Brandon means Little Raven, among other things. I think it suits you." Sam touched his black hair with gentle fingers and smoothed it back. Bran just lowered his chin and shook his head, forcing his bangs into place again, as he felt heat burning his cheeks.
    Sam chuckled.
    Time to change the subject!
    Brandon moved away, and pulled his sleep pants back into place as he stood. "So… umm… I'm going to jump in the shower. I'll make sure to leave you some hot water. Then we can get outta here and get you some stuff." He roamed around the room, gathering fresh clothing, trying not to give away how uncomfortable and confused he was. For the duration, he was hyperaware of the fact that he was not alone in the room.
    Not gonna look back, not gonna look back, not gonna look back, not gonna… shit!
    Bran glanced at the bed, where Sam was watching him intently, eyebrows arched in question. He had to get out of there. He practically ran to the door. "Be right out."
    CHAPTER 4
    Samael felt ridiculous. He was still clothed in the snug shorts from the night before, paired with a black T-shirt so tight, that if he raised his arm to scratch his nose, he heard it tear. Even with his arms down, a line of his stomach showed, because the damn thing wasn't long enough to cover him completely.
    If that wasn't enough to spark his embarrassment to an all-time high, he was wearing sandals that Bran had called 'flip flops', which covered a little more than half of the bottom of his foot. The ridiculous shoes cut into his arch every time he took a step. Which meant he had to hobble instead of walk.
    He felt like a giant wearing midget's clothes.
    Brandon had insisted he wear them though, saying most stores had a policy that their customers must have on a shirt and shoes. There was no other option either. They'd spent over an hour going through