Country Mouse by Amy Lane Read Free Book Online Page A

faded away, and Malcolm was left, strangely relaxed and a little floaty, leaning against his kitchen counter.
    Owen pulled back and placed a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth, and then reached around his shoulder, his chest brushing Malcolm’s as he did so. It was such a natural, intimate thing to do, after the almost frightening escalation into sex they’d had, that Malcolm leaned forward, just to prolong the contact—and then jerked back because he felt needy, and he was never needy.
    “You left the orange juice out,” Owen said, pressing his groin and stomach intimately (and a little high up, actually) against Malcolm’s, and leaning back so he could raise the bottle to his lips. “You’re not a stickler for this, are you?” He tilted his head back and his throat worked as he took a couple of swallows.
    Malcolm watched him, that neediness assailing him again, and when Owen grinned and offered him the bottle, he took it and swallowed the last bit in two gulps. He numbly set the bottle back on the counter and gave in to temptation, putting his hands on Owen’s lean, naked hips.
    “You were right,” Owen said softly, feathering cool lips along his temple.
    “About what?”
    “It’s getting damn cold here in the kitchen. I’d love to take you to the bedroom, get under the covers, and kiss you some more. Or is that too personal?”
    Malcolm swallowed and managed a crooked grin. “No, no—you’ll be on your way out of town soon. Nothing’s too personal for a stranger.”
    He hadn’t quite meant it to hurt, just as a rationalization. He had planned for breakfast (but under different circumstances, admittedly), had calculated to spend a bit more time, all casual as could be.
    He’d also had loads of fucks that left after the sex to catch the last Tube or bus. Those were fine, too. Especially on a work day (and really, what day wasn’t?). Getting up at six to be jogged, showered, suited, and booted at the bank by a quarter past seven for the news roundup from the research department didn’t really leave time to be terribly nice to some conquered piece of ass he’d brought in from God-knew-where.
    Nothing’s too personal for a stranger.
    But damn, Owen was the nicest stranger he could think of. “I didn’t mean it that way, you know.”
    Owen nodded, like he’d just said something completely clear that didn’t actually bear repeating. “Bedroom?”
    Kissing and touching. Yeah, he really wanted that. “Just going to brush my teeth. I have a spare toothbrush if you want it.”
    They did that part in companionable silence, like some married couple, no squabbling over space in front of the mirror, and he couldn’t help but think that Owen looked good there, brushing his teeth slowly and deliberately, whereas Malcolm was what his dentist referred to as a “mad scrubber.” Maybe part of that irritation was just frustration right now, remnants of the embarrassment. He washed out his mouth and headed to the bedroom.
    The large bed was made (this place came with cleaning service), the sheets all clean, because he liked nothing more than to sink, freshly-showered, into a completely fresh bed, whatever else he’d gotten up to the day or night before.
    The Egyptian cotton sheets felt almost too crisp on his skin, at least for that moment until they took his body heat. He’d only shed his dress shirt and kept his boxers on. Owen, though, was still naked, and that suited him beautifully, too.
    The touch on his chest was more politely gentle than tentative, and he almost sighed. It did feel good to lie back and not be expected to do much. He’d likely be able to go a second round, but right now, he was just relaxing, and how rare an occurrence was that while he had a hot guy in his bed.
    Double spearmint taste in his mouth when Owen leaned over to kiss him, one hand stroking his face as he did, thumb nearly tickling his lip and the corner of his mouth. But it was the good kind of tickle. Malcolm smiled and