"I said I won't put it in," Rowan said quietly. "Noel."
Noel shook his head. He didn't want to believe what Rowan was saying, didn't want to believe the evidence of his own traitorous body. But the kiss continued, deeper, more consuming than before, and Rowan's hips began to move against him in a slow, grinding rhythm. The friction of their clothed erections was maddening like a promise and a punishment all at once.
Noel could feel himself getting impossibly hard, a hot, shameful ache that pulsed in time with Rowan's thrusts. He shut his eyes tight, as if darkness could erase the sensation, the reality of his own arousal for this man who was holding him captive.
