Lahat ng Kabanata ng Nailed: Men In Heat: Kabanata 21 - Kabanata 30

Chapter ThreeThe First Kiss Wasn’t EnoughLucas woke up to the worst possible scenario.Ethan’s thigh draped over his leg, his arm lazily wrapped around Lucas’s waist, and the sticky reminder of what they’d done dried between them.Fuck.Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.Lucas closed his eyes. Maybe if he stayed still, the earth would crack open and swallow him whole. That would be preferable to facing the reality of what had happened.He had dry-humped his roommate until they both came in their sweatpants like two desperate teenagers at a high school makeout party. Scratch that—Ethan had ground him into the mattress with the finesse of someone who knew exactly what he was doing.Lucas was not okay.He turned his head slowly.Ethan looked peaceful. Disgustingly so. His lashes were too long, his hair a chaotic mess against the pillow, and his mouth—still slightly parted—looked like it had no business being on another man’s throat, and yet…Lucas could still feel those kisses. His skin was marked with

Chapter Five You’re Not Ready for MeThe silence after Ethan’s words was worse than any storm. Lucas lay there, shirt halfway undone, breath ragged, flushed and twitching with need—and Ethan had the audacity to back off now?Lucas didn’t know what part of him wanted to scream more—his pride or his cock.“I’m not ready?” Lucas echoed, blinking, trying to suppress the sting of rejection. “You’ve had your tongue down my throat and your hand on my—”“I know exactly what I’ve done.” Ethan’s voice was low. Not soft. Not kind. Warning. “And I know exactly what I want to do next. Which is exactly why I stopped.”Lucas sat up, furious, embarrassed, turned on beyond all logic. His shirt hung open, belt unbuckled, jeans pushed halfway down his hips, exposing the thick bulge of his briefs. His entire body was screaming for Ethan.“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” he snapped.Ethan leaned back on his elbow, gaze fixed on him like Lucas was some kind of decadent sin waiting to be devou

Chapter SevenMineLucas didn’t move. Not until Ethan leaned down and pressed his mouth against his.The kiss started soft—testing. Just lips, warm and firm. But then Lucas’s hand slid into Ethan’s hair, tugging, and Ethan groaned into his mouth, parting his lips wider. Tongues tangled. Their mouths met again, rougher this time, urgent. Lucas moaned as Ethan climbed onto the bed, straddling him, pressing their bodies flush.Their skin burned where it touched. Ethan’s bare thighs caged Lucas in, and Lucas’s hands ran up the strong lines of his back, desperate to feel more. His cock was already stiffening beneath his shorts, brushing against the unmistakable hardness pressing down from Ethan’s boxers.Ethan kissed him breathless before pulling back to look down at him. “Tell me to stop now,” he said, voice hoarse. “Because if we keep going, I’m not going to want to stop.”Lucas didn’t hesitate. “Don’t stop.”Ethan’s mouth crashed down on his again.They kissed like they were starving—bi

Chapter TwoThe Kitchen Is Closed—You’re NotDrake’s mouth was still wet from him.Emery could taste himself in the kiss when the chef pressed him back against the walk-in cooler and kissed him hard—hungry, unapologetic, tongue sweeping deep like he needed to mark the moment.Like he wanted to own it.Emery shoved him back, breath ragged. “Is this how you win over your critics?”Drake’s laugh was low, chest-deep, like smoke in a dark room. “I don’t want to win you.”He stepped forward again, slow and towering. “I want to ruin you.”Emery didn’t flinch.“Then put your mouth where your money is,” he said.Drake’s nostrils flared. His eyes darkened.Then he grabbed him.—The stainless steel prep table was cool against Emery’s front as Drake bent him forward over it, one strong hand splayed between his shoulder blades, pinning him in place. The other hand yanked at his belt again, this time dragging his slacks down around his thighs.“Fuck,” Emery hissed as the air hit him. “You’re not w

Chapter FourThe Cellar Drake hated waiting.He hated it even more when the reason he was waiting had the audacity to walk in late—on his turf—with someone else.The dining room froze as the door opened and Emery stepped inside wearing deep navy, his curls perfect and that pompous smirk on.And beside him… a tall, pale man in designer shoes with an arm draped too familiarly around Emery’s lower back.Drake’s jaw clenched. The sommelier beside him muttered, “Is that… a date?”Drake didn’t answer but his eyes were knives.—Emery knew he was being watched. He felt Drake’s stare like heat on his skin before he even sat down. It made him smirk harder.He didn’t bother looking toward the kitchen. Not yet. Let the bastard simmer.“Dimitri,” he said sweetly to the man beside him, “have whatever you want. The chef here is known for giving… memorable experiences.”He punctuated that with a slow lick of his wine glass rim.Drake didn’t send a waiter, he walked to the table himself.“Evening,”