Dreaming in Color by Cameron Dane (autobiographies to read .TXT) 📕

on a reclining Marek. “But that's not earning you enough to maintain the expenses of living in your house.” His curiosity warred with etiquette regarding someone else's financial and personal situation. “Even if you do close off more than half the rooms.”

“Yes, you're right about that.” Marek shifted and stretched out long on his side. He found Colin in the water with his gaze and rested his head in his hand. His eyes were pure and piercing, but without righteous fire. “Scrap metal is a big, profitable business. You would be surprised. At least it was for my uncle, and then me when I took it over. I had a woman who owns a big corner of that business hounding me to sell after my uncle passed away and I took complete ownership of the business. When Payton died and I knew I couldn't live in Pittsburgh anymore, I sold it to her. It was enough to allow me to buy the house, to spread most in some safe investments, as well as play with a smaller portion in riskier trades.” He picked a pluming fern branch out of the ground, pointed it at Colin, and a little grin teased his lips. “You can do all that from the computer now, as I'm sure you know. I spend part of my time every week on the Internet with my financial planner. I'm not a total bum.”

Many of Marek's early comments about Colin “gaining” something from him twitched at Colin's feathers. The full truth suddenly hit him and he bounded across the water and up the side of the pool with Spider-Man-like moves. “You rich, suspicious son of a bitch.” Colin threw himself down on Marek and wrestled the man to his back, going right for his ticklish waist. “I thought you were wary that I wasn't entirely sane, but you were really scared I knew how much money you have and was here to rob you blind. Oh”—he poked Marek all over, even hitting with tormenting brushes of his fingers under the man's armpits and knees—“you will so have to pay for that.”

“Me?” Marek shouted and wiggled under Colin's multifinger attack; tears streamed down his cheeks as he laughed and begged Colin to stop. Colin tilted and reached out to grab the ground for balance; Marek moved in on the small opening for control and flipped Colin off him, bounding to his feet. “You just unleashed tickle torture and broke all kinds of fair fighting rules.” Marek widened his stance and spread his arms. With Marek's intense stare, Colin jumped to his feet too, and his mind and body hummed with just as much excitement as his racing heart. Marek whispered hotly, “Better start running.”

A skitter of fear mingled inside Colin, even though he knew they were playing and he was perfectly safe. Marek lunged, and Colin spun away, calling out a “catch me” dare and shooting across the clearing at a dead run. His legs churned with speed, and his feet pounded the fern-covered ground with nary a stab of pain for the hard stone below. For every step he took, Colin could feel Marek right on his back, so close his heat warmed Colin's skin and his breath skated across Colin's nape. Everything inside him pumping overtime, Colin veered toward the left, right for the steps to the shelf.

“Wait, wait! Be careful.” A hand whipped out and grabbed Colin, digging into his forearm. The cutting edge in Marek's voice froze Colin in place with his foot on the bottom stair. “No playing anymore,” Marek said, his tone firm. “Don't go up those steps fast just to stay out of my reach. You will slip and get hurt.” His breath caught audibly, and his grip on Colin slipped away. “Or worse.”

Colin slumped against the rock, losing a little bit more of his ability to remain distant upon hearing the emotion scratching Marek's voice. “You're right,” he said. “I wasn't thinking.” He rolled his head and connected to Marek's gaze, holding it in silence for a drawn-out moment. “I'm sorry.”

Marek nodded and looked away, putting his stare on the pool. “Just take care as you go up.” He held back, out of touching range, but said, “I'll be right behind you.”

Give him some quiet to pull himself together. Colin started up the steps without another word, extremely mindful of where he placed his feet and hands. He could not believe in horsing around he had almost charged up these uneven steps without care; Colin could only be grateful Marek possessed a cool head and sharp reflexes. Otherwise, Colin might have been two steps up and right off the edge before Marek's verbal warning had a chance to penetrate his brain.

Reaching the shelf, Colin moved toward the back and sat down, bending his legs to his chest. The damp from the flat slab of stone sank into his bare ass, but Colin welcomed the brief shock of cold. Marek reached the landing but hung back, letting his attention drift over the entirety of the small lean-to structure. It looked like he made a move toward jumping again but instead swept in on Colin, sank to his knees, and stole an aggressive, desperate kiss.

Colin immediately opened up and let Marek in, loving the duel of tongues and Marek's sweeps into the depths of his mouth. Angling his head, Colin wrapped his arms around Marek's neck and pulled him in closer, taking a little bit of the charge back. Marek's hands fell to the ground to hold himself up, and he breathed heavily against Colin's mouth as the tips of their tongues pulsed in and out, grazing one another and retreating with exquisite tastes for more.

On the fourth flick, Colin captured Marek's tongue and suckled the nubby length, drawing it past his lips to the wet heat of his mouth. He pulled on the small appendage with suction, and licked the smoother underside, earning him a tremble from Marek.

Colin let Marek's tongue slip