That tenderness was a lie.
Or perhaps, more frighteningly, it was the truth, and the ferocity that followed was Arik just as honest.
The first press of his lips was soft. Brief. Almost reverent.
Then Liam's fingers tightened on his shoulders, and something in Arik broke open.
Arik's tongue swept past the seam of Liam's lips, stroking against them with a possessive, deliberate rhythm that made Liam's knees buckle.
The hand on the railing moved to Liam's lower back, pressing him forward until their bodies were flush from chest to thigh.
Liam could feel every hard plane of Arik's body against his own, the solid wall of muscle, and the unmistakable ridge of his erection pressing firmly against Liam's hip through the layers of their clothes.
A low sound, half groan, half growl, rumbled in Arik's chest, a vibration Liam felt rather than heard, flowing from Arik's mouth into his own and down his spine like a current.
