Second Hand: A Tucker Springs Novel 2

that woman’s name again, ever. Especially when attached to sex with Paul. “Well, Kinsey didn’t make his scale out of nothing.”
Paul nodded, blushing a little. “I mean, I’ve been with guys before. Well, one. Sort of. One guy, one girl. I guess it’s never been a big deal to me—I’ve always been attracted to both. But it’s easier to be with women.”
Biting back comments about how much hell Stacey had put Paul through, El held still and waited. Paul, however, merely hunched over himself, his breathing coming fast and shallow. El gave up and scooted all the way to the end of the couch, reaching for Paul but stopping short of touching his knee. “Paul.”
Paul plowed on. “Sometimes I wonder how much of being with Stacey was taking the easy way out. It seems stupid now, as stupid as everything else I’ve tried to do, pretending to be someone I’m not. I don’t even have some great reason, like my parents are religious zealots who protest gay funerals or something. Not even close. It just . . . it was never safe to be with men. And I didn’t hate girls. I never sat down and reasoned it out, but I think some part of me decided why make a fuss? Why make life hard?” His hands tightened into each other, his whole body tensing as his voice rose. “Now it’s all awake, all those old feelings I thought I’d put away. They’re all right here, and I don’t want to be this, don’t want the complicated way, but I don’t want to say no, and you probably think I’m an idiot, which I am, but I can’t turn it off, I don’t want to try, and that was amazing and I want to do it again, but I—”
At you probably think I’m an idiot, El started moving; at I don’t want to try, he knelt in front of Paul, who was hyperventilating and talking as fast as a rabid auctioneer; at I want to do it again, he allowed himself one moment to savor the words, and then he took Paul’s face in his hands and stopped the flow of chatter with a kiss.
It was a sweet kiss, a slow kiss, meant to gentle Paul and possibly get a little air back into his lungs instead of letting it all fall out in a rush of words, but it didn’t stay that way long. Paul whimpered, rested trembling hands on El’s shoulders, and El groaned back, teasing Paul’s lips open to deepen the kiss.
“I’ll stop if you want,” he whispered, sliding his hands down to Paul’s waist. “Just tell me what you want.”
“I don’t know.” Paul leaned hard into El, his body clearly not suffering from indecision. “I just . . . I just . . . I . . .”
El placed a kiss on Paul’s chin. “It’s me. Okay? I’m not going to hurt you, and I’m not going to laugh. Tell me what you want. What you need.” He nuzzled his way back to that sweet, soft mouth. “Let me give it to you.”
Paul’s swallow was audible. “I’m sorry. I feel like a little kid. I probably sound like one. That can’t be attractive.”
“I promise you’re very attractive. And nothing like a kid.” El’s fingers dipped into Paul’s waistband, then paused. “We can just talk, Paul. I don’t want you to feel like I’m pushing you into anything. I’ve done more than enough of that already.”
Paul’s gaze fixed on El, hesitant and heated at once. “Maybe . . . maybe I want to be pushed.”
El allowed himself a moment to drink that in too. Then he pulled Paul onto his lap, nudged the chair aside, and kissed Paul without holding anything back while he pushed him with surety of purpose to the floor.
Paul’s needy gasps and clutching hands spurred him on. “Did you really want me from the moment you saw me?” Paul whispered between heated kisses.
“Yeah.” El couldn’t figure out where he wanted to touch Paul first, so he kept his hands moving, shoving aside clothing, seeking skin. “I want you now. Tell me what’s too far, Paul. Tell me right now.”
“Nothing. I want all of it.”
Remembering the dazed, frightened look he’d been treated to at the bottom of the stairs, El mentally wrote several activities off despite what Paul had said. “I don’t want you to freak out afterward.” His throat threatened to close in selfdefense, but he shoved through the blockage and pressed on. “Because I don’t just want to make love to you today. I want to be with you, Paul.” That was as much as he could get out. He went back to making love to Paul’s neck.
Paul arched into him, tilting his head to make the job easier. “Like . . . a boyfriend?”
It took three