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“Oh.” The fact that Evan wasn’t pissed off, was actually being nice about the fact that Jonah couldn’t get his ass in gear to get anywhere on time, only made Jonah feel worse.

“Yeah. The place was dead so I left early. Figured I’d come home and help you pack.”

“Pack” was what Evan said, but the way he said it sounded like something else to Jonah’s dick.

Great. Now he was guilty, nervous and horny.

Jonah sidestepped the hand reaching for his crotch, heading toward the bathroom to scoop up shaving stuff.

“Did you just blow off sex?” Evan followed him.

“I don’t know. Was that actually an offer?”

Would Evan do it now? Here? Was that the plan? Come home early, fuck, then down on one knee for a different reason? Was the box now in Evan’s back pocket? Maybe Evan was hoping to surprise his family with their—Jonah choked on the word—engagement.

Oh sweet fuck. Evan wouldn’t do it in front of his family, would he?

Evan tipped his lips in a half-smile and arched a brow. “It was. A firm offer.”

Jonah had to backtrack to find the source of the dry humor in Evan’s voice. Usually Evan’s smutty puns made Jonah laugh. And want to jump him.

“Right, well, I was thinking that traffic’s gonna suck the whole way, so we should get it over with as soon as possible.”

“The sex?” Evan’s wry expression didn’t shift at all, but Jonah knew him well enough to read the flash of surprised hurt in his eyes.

“The drive.”

“Fine.” Evan went back into their bedroom and scooped the half wrapped box and Jonah’s suitcase from the bed. “I’ll finish this and load the car.”

Jonah thought about calling him back, apologizing, but he wouldn’t be apologizing for the right thing. This weird tension felt all too familiar lately. Like they were both always trying to say something they weren’t sure they were ready to spit out.

Maybe now he had an idea of what it was Evan wanted to say.

Chapter Two

After Evan neatened up the half-assed wrapping job Jonah had started on Matt’s toy and finished wrapping and tagging it, Evan snuck in a quick check of his breath and deodorant. In the almost two years they’d been dating, Jonah had turned down sex exactly once. Evan had only discovered later that Jonah’s vague
“not feeling up to it” was the result of a 103 degree fever and strep throat, so a hygiene inspection was a reasonable precaution.

But Evan also knew Jonah didn’t have more than a nodding acquaintance with tact. He was likely to rear back and fan the air with a “Dude, onions” or “When’s the last time you showered?”

Evan would check him for a fever later. But that wouldn’t explain how insanely jumpy Jonah had been since Evan got home. Jonah had been himself when he’d run off late to work this morning—assuming, once again, that because he could make the trip to Clifton Park in thirty-eight minutes under optimal conditions, he always would.

The weird didn’t stop when they got in the car. At the end of the driveway, Evan braked, but didn’t pull out despite the lack of oncoming traffic. “Do you want to stay here?” Privately he though the expiration date on objections to the trip had passed a week ago, but he would never drag Jonah into anything. Evan pasted on a wide smile. “Three days is a lot of Murphy togetherness. You could drive out on your own later if you change your mind.”

“I love your family. God, you think I want to spend Christmas with mine?” Jonah shuddered.

Evan’s family loved Jonah back. They would have for Evan’s sake, but no one could resist that bright wide grin. It still knocked Evan flat on his ass every time he saw it, and he said this as a guy who always had to break down and do something with the science experiments passing for dishes that Jonah insisted on leaving in the sink with the dishwasher only a few steps away.

No reason not to be direct. “You seem jumpy.”

Jonah shrugged. “Traffic, holidays, general stress.”

“I won’t mind if you’d rather—”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay.” The tires spun a little as Evan tore out of the driveway, then he eased off the accelerator.

Jonah didn’t keep stuff to himself; even when he said he didn’t want to talk about something, Evan could count on him puking it out in about five breaths. Ten passed by. Then twenty.

Evan sped up the ramp to the interstate and Jonah still hadn’t burst out with his usual “All right. What really—”

Jonah didn’t hook up his phone to begin streaming pop through the car’s speakers. Evan liked quiet, it gave him time to think, but as the only sound was the hum of the tires and the whoosh of passing cars, it started to get on his nerves. He missed Jonah’s chatter. His random generation of opinions and ideas. Missed Jonah, though his boyfriend was sitting right next to him.

Checking for a fever probably wouldn’t put Jonah in a better mood. As they neared the rest stop outside Lee, Massachusetts, where as usual it was snowing, Evan asked, “Did you eat?”

“Not hungry.”

Evan tried not to arch his brows. A not hungry, not interested in sex, quiet Jonah was so far out of the norm Evan thought he needed a brand-new analysis, which he couldn’t do while driving. “I am.” He took the ramp into the rest stop, peering through the thickening flakes for an empty spot in the crowded parking area.

“There.” Jonah pointed.

Evan swung into the spot. “Nice teamwork.” He could have sworn Jonah flinched.

Chapter Three

The thing about wondering if you were ready to spend the rest of your life with someone, Jonah realized, was that suddenly every other guy looked like an option Jonah would be missing. Any other day, he wouldn’t have looked twice at the bearish guy with the inked neck and knuckles sticking out from under the heavy black leather jacket. But now Jonah could imagine those thick muscled arms, dark with ink and hair, wrapped around Jonah’s waist, the heavy beard rubbing into Jonah’s neck as the guy slammed into Jonah from behind, panting whatever sorts of things a leather daddy grunted in those situations.

And the floppy-haired twink in front of Evan in the McDonald’s line, the one with the gauges in his ears and the piercings in his lip and eyebrow. Jonah’s fingers twitched as if they were already twisted in that long hair, using it to drag those pouty lips down his cock. Yeah, Jonah bet the guy had a tongue piercing too. He had to reach into the front pocket of his jeans to do a quick public adjustment.

Evan glanced over at him then, mouthing “You sure?”

Jonah wasn’t sure about anything, the twink or the bear, and definitely not about sliding that kinda tacky ring on his finger to bind him to Evan for life. The realization that Evan was jerking his chin at the menu board, asking if Jonah was sure he didn’t want any food, made Jonah’s cheeks flash hot.

He sidled up next to Evan on the outside of the queue corrals. “Fries. And a coke. And the chicken wrap. Ranch.”

Evan smiled. His golden-brown eyes did that crinkly thing at the corners and Jonah wanted to kiss him—except for the part where he felt like a complete shit for snooping and eye-fucking every non-soccer dad-looking man in the building. Come to think of it, that nicely maintained guy with the three little blond kids had one hell of a nice ass. As if he was aware of Jonah’s slutty, wandering gaze, the twink in front of Evan turned around and flicked an—
oh, yeah
—pierced tongue over his lips before winking at them both.

Three-way. That would be first on his list. He’d never done a three-way, not even in college at that party that was three tequila shots short of an orgy.

“Anything else?”

The leather daddy walked by on Jonah’s right. Hell yeah, there was other stuff on his list. Bondage. Real submissive stuff. Someone plowing his ass and telling him he couldn’t come, even as his balls were aching and on fire. Jonah swallowed hard and tried to concentrate on Evan’s innocent question.

Jonah licked his dry lips. “Uh, sundae. Caramel.” Maybe Jonah could eat himself into a food coma and not have to think about anything. The twink sighed and turned away, moving up with the line.

“You got it, babe.” The way Evan’s eyes searched Jonah’s, then held his gaze made him feel even more like an asshole.

“I’m gonna—” Jonah swallowed again, “—find a table."

Evan's brow furrowed. "Thought we'd eat in the car."

Right. Despite all the stuff Evan had said about not caring how late they were, he was still pushing them along faster. Jonah was surprised they'd stopped for food at all. Well, the cold outside ought to help with the way his zipper was leaving an imprint on his dick. "Meet you at the car."

* * *

They hit the sheets late, after catching up with Evan’s mom and dad and the cousin who was staying at the house, but Evan was still up first. When Jonah woke, he rolled over and hugged Evan’s pillow, breathing in his smell. That turned out to be a mistake since he’d woken up with a semi and they’d only ever done it once at Evan’s parents’ house, this past Thanksgiving when Evan had been sure his parents were too far out of it from two bottles of Malbec to hear anything. Jonah wasn’t
that
loud, but when Evan got something stuck in his head, the idea might as well be in a freaking tar pit of stuckness.

Jonah threw on jeans and a T-shirt and padded across the hall to the bathroom. Being all irritated with the fact that a solo in the shower was all the relief he was going to get for the next few days was more than enough to make it easy to get his dick to switch functions.

Easier for his mind to go wandering back to those rings, too. What they meant—and what they meant giving up. Jonah didn’t exactly have the best track record. He’d cheated on more than one boyfriend—though never on Evan, never when he’d made a serious promise. Not that he’d given anyone a serious promise before. It didn’t get any more serious than what was in that box. Of course, rings and a marriage certificate hadn’t stopped either of Jonah’s parents from screwing around on each other.

It wasn’t only all the hot guys he’d be giving up. It was all the things he’d never get to do or try. How was he supposed to know he didn’t like the whole whips and chains scene? He liked it enough in porn. Always meant to try it out, but somehow, like going down to New York for New Year’s Eve, something had always gotten in the way. Mostly his own inability to figure out what the fuck it was he wanted before the train left the station.

Maybe if he wrote it all down, he could make a better decision. Evan was always telling Jonah making to-do lists would keep him organized, but a Things I’ll Never Get To Do If I Marry Evan list probably wasn’t what Evan had in mind.

He pulled out his phone, but as his finger hovered to open his notes he remembered that there was no such thing as complete digital privacy. Not that he thought Evan would actually go digging on his phone, but accidents happened. Like the accident he’d had with the rings.

Paper was safer. Old-fashioned, but definitely safer. Paper could be destroyed.

Evan’s old desk was even more organized than his one at home. It was easy enough to find pen and paper and soon his block print was covering the first line with Threesome or Moresome.

Jonah gave into a brief fantasy of Evan leaning in to kiss Jonah, cock buried in some random guy’s ass while Jonah’s dick filled the guy’s throat, the gasps and smells of them together. Except Evan—serious, dependable, predictable Evan—would never go for something like that. Hell, as far as Jonah knew, Evan didn’t even watch porn.

BDSM—that covered a lot. Most of the rest of his list.

He started with the B: Hands in cuffs. Tied. Legs forced apart. He wanted to be the one in that position, unable to touch his dick, move his hips. Taking what was given to him. The idea scared him—but evidently his balls liked being scared, tingling, weighing heavy and full between his legs.

D: Jonah couldn’t picture Evan standing there in leather putting Jonah on his knees, but God, with someone else, someone with the voice and power to put him there... He had to stop and put the heel of his hand on his groin. Jesus. Yeah. He wanted that. A firm hand on his jaw, the hand on his head guiding his mouth around a slick head and hard length, robbing his breath as his mouth filled with the taste and the smell. God, this should have been number one on his list. A blindfold, his hands cuffed behind him. Wanting someone to take over. Own him. Use him.

M: That one he wasn’t too sure about. Avoiding pain usually seemed like a good plan. He pictured the looks of the guys he’d seen in videos. They’d been in pain, but there was something else going on there.

Jonah started doodling, darkening in the open spaces in some of the letters. He didn’t doubt he was in love with Evan, though it had been something he kind of fell into. Hadn’t been planning on more than a few good hookups when it started. Evan was gorgeous, modeled-as-a-teen gorgeous. Clothes catalogues and stuff. His looks had caught Jonah’s attention, but it wasn’t what had kept Jonah coming back. Evan had this way of looking at Jonah, sometimes after sex, sometimes out of nowhere, that made Jonah feel as if he was the most amazing thing Evan had ever seen. Jonah had thought it would go away and when it didn’t, he found himself trying to put that look there more and more.

The second Jonah heard the door creak, panic chomped down on his heart. Shit. Paper was bad, very, very bad. He stuffed the paper in his front pocket as Evan pushed open the door. “If you want anything besides a half a bagel no one else wanted, you’d better get down to breakfast.”

Jonah’s heart was jumping around to avoid panic’s chomping metal teeth, but he swallowed hard and walked to meet Evan at the door. Evan cupped Jonah’s chin and rubbed a thumb across his jaw. “Did you pack a razor?”

“Yeah.” Jonah pulled free. “Is breakfast black-tie or something?”

“No.” Evan’s eyes had that smile in them. “You just look so sexy like that I feel like keeping you from breakfast. And I told you what these jeans do to me.” His fingers grazed the rip on Jonah’s thigh. “Hinting at all that skin I want to touch. And your sexy feet.”

Jonah stepped back. “Or this is just your way of telling me I look a little too casual for—”