COLE

“You really weren’t kidding,” I said.

“Nope. I enjoy baking. It’s relaxing, but with the garage and the band, I don’t have much time to do it. The Apple Festival is a good enough excuse.” Max washed his hands at the sink and dried them with a towel. “We’ll leave those to cool while we work on the other batch.”

“We?” I raised an eyebrow. “I’m a terrible cook. “

“How can you be terrible at anything?”

“Remember the time I overboiled the egg?”

He laughed. “I remember everything about you.”

Not exactly what I’d asked. “Well, then you know I’m not making stuff up.”

“I’ll teach you. Come over here. You’re too far. Wash your hands first. Don’t know where they’ve been.”

“Wanking my junk.” I went over to the sink and did as he’d instructed.

“Not that I’d mind if we were cooking for just me, but this is for public consumption. Better to keep it kosher.”

Chuckling, I dried my hands and sidled up to him. What the hell? I had nothing better to do anyway, and it would kill time until Gladys came home.

Max taught me how to roll and stretch the dough into long ropes, lifting the ends to make a U-shape, crossing one end over the other until I formed a pretzel. I couldn’t quite get my pretzels to look as neat as his, though, so I gave up.

“We’ll just eat the ones you made,” he said when he was done. He closed the oven and picked up a piping bag.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“The glaze for the pretzels.”

He drizzled the glaze over the cooled pretzels so they looked even more appetizing.

“I want one of these,” I said.

“You’re supposed to wait for the glaze to set.”

“Doubt it’ll taste any different.” I snatched one of the pretzels from the baking sheet.

“Cole! It’s not ready yet!”

It was silly—Max being so touchy about the way pretzels came out. Snorting with laughter, I dodged him when he tried to take the pretzel and stuffed it into my mouth.

“It tastes ready to me.” I swallowed around a moan. “More.” The pretzel tasted so damn good.

He placed a hand in the center of my chest and pushed me back. “If you’re going to disrespect my pretzels by not waiting until they’re finished, then get out of my kitchen.”

He kept pushing me back. I couldn’t help laughing. It wasn’t even that funny, but his face was all red as if I’d somehow offended him for eating his pretzel without letting the glaze set.

“Max, stop pushing.” By now, I was out of the kitchen and up against the wall in the hallway. My stern tone didn’t quite make it through my laughter.

“Yeah? What are you going to do about it?”

His challenge rang clear.

“Hmm, still a bully, aren’t you?”

He widened his eyes, and his mouth fell open. He looked horrified, stepping back quickly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

I fisted his shirt and flipped us so he was against the wall and I before him. I braced my hands on either side of his head. My heart pounded. This was crazy. He was driving me crazy. How could I still want him this much?

“Remove the tie from your hair,” I said.

Max swallowed, reached up without arguing, and removed a shoelace from his hair. The golden tresses fell down his shoulders.

I took the shoelace from him. “Really?”

“It was the only thing I could find this morning.”

“I’m not complaining. I’m sure we can find use for this.”

“Cole,” he whimpered, his voice full of neediness. He’d always been a bit of a cockslut. Always horny in high school. Not much seemed to have changed, then. I’d bet my home in Atlanta that if I removed his pants, the front of his boxers would be wet. I’d been with several guys since him. None leaked precum the way he did, and I found it sexy as hell.

Could he still come hands-free from me just fucking his ass with my fingers? That used to turn him wild.

“What do you want?” My need warred with my want. I needed to stay away from him, but I wanted this man so much.

“You,” he moaned. “Always you, Cole.”

“Have you been waiting for me to come back this whole time?”

“Yes.”

I’d only meant to tease him, but something in his voice made me glance up. His eyes were serious and a little sad.

“Give me your hands,” I croaked.

He obediently stretched them out together. I wrapped the lace around his wrists. It wouldn’t be restrictive in the least, but it would be enough.

“Put your hands above your head against the wall and keep them there.”

He whimpered in his throat and did exactly what I told him. I unbuttoned his jeans, pulled his zipper down, and shoved his jeans under his ass. Just as I’d thought. The front of his blue boxers was wet.

I hissed a breath and cupped him through his boxers. Max sucked in a deep breath.

“Breathe, Maxxy.”

“Okay.”

“I’m gonna take you out and play with you, Maxxy. You want that?”

“Yes, please.”

He was so sweet when he begged. I would never tire of him saying “please.” I slipped my hand into the waistband of his boxers. His erection twitched against my palm. I wrapped my hand around his girth and stroked up and down his length.

Max always had that cool, confident air about him, even when we were seniors, but once I touched him, he became putty in my hands. He was gooey now. All Jell-O except for his cock, which strained into my touch. He thrust his hips in tandem with my strokes.

The whimpers coming from him made my heart clench. I shoved my free hand under his shirt to his nipple and squeezed it between my fingers. Max jerked against me, tilting his head back into the wall, his eyes closed.

“Fuck.” He groaned, rolling his hips. I stroked him faster until his breathing came out in desperate, ragged pants.

My cock twitched against my jeans, eager to be a part of the show, but the ending was yet to come, and I needed to savor every bit of it.

Not this time.

Perhaps not ever.

I needed to see him come apart for me once more.

His cock jerked in my hand. Max’s muscles tightened, and his breath hitched.

“Cole,” he panted my name as ropes of cum shot into my hand and onto my T-shirt. I tweaked his nipple, and he trembled against me, sagging against the wall.

The ache in my groin was worth it to see him like that. Completely undone.

Now what?

My phone rang, jolting me back from making the mistake of kissing Max. I fished my phone out of my pocket. Gladys. Thank god. Why couldn’t she have called half an hour ago before I laid a finger on Max?

“Gladys,” I said past the tightness of my throat. “You locked me out.”

“I’m sorry. I had to run to the supermarket to get a few items I thought I had, but I’m back now. Where are you?”

“On my way.”

I ended the call.

“Cole,” Max said. “Don’t go.”

His earnest plea only made the situation worse. He wanted something I didn’t dare give him again.

“I’m sorry.” I untied the shoelace around his wrists and clenched it in my palm. “I should go.”