Encore Encore Read Online Free PDF Page A

The open longing he saw in Roscoe’s eyes nearly broke his resolve. “Stay. Please? I miss you.” Shawn clutched the railing supporting his back as Roscoe bent in for a soft, almost chaste kiss. “Coe,” he sighed, using the short version of Roscoe’s name unintentionally.
    Roscoe kissed him again, a little more this time with a tongue sweeping his bottom lip. “It’s late. You’re worn out.” He kissed the corner of Shawn’s mouth. “Stay.”
    The only thing keeping him from it was himself. He certainly did not prefer his own lumpy futon back in his apartment, nor did he relish returning to the noise of one of his roommate’s music, always playing, all night. Roscoe’s bed was infi nitely more comfortable and he knew sleeping with that long, lean body beside him wouldn’t be a problem.

    ENCORE! ENCORE! 23
    “Stay,” Roscoe murmured against his lips.
    Knowing it was obstinate, he turned his head to the side and overemphasized a yawn. “Okay.”
    Roscoe chuckled, stepping back to give him room. He only watched as Shawn shucked his jeans then they met back in the bed. Shawn rolled to his side, facing the railing overlooking the loft. Roscoe hesitated, then scooted in to spoon behind him.
    Shawn shut his eyes over the wave of emotion that fl ooded him as it sank in just how well Roscoe fi t with him. Right at this moment, he was hard pressed to recall what had been so bad that they couldn’t get over it. Resolute, he closed his eyes and let himself relax. No sense worrying about it now, he chided himself. The morning is good enough.
    ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊
    Neither Shawn nor Roscoe were the type to cuddle while they slept so Shawn didn’t expect to wake up wrapped in the other man’s arms, but he did wake up to the familiar scent of Roscoe’s sheets, and opening his eyes presented his blurry gaze with a picture of Roscoe’s sleeping face. He caught himself smiling, letting his eyes close, content to drift happily. Until he realized what he was doing.
    Time to go. Last night had been nice, but it was back to reality now. Back to the knowledge that Roscoe only approved of what Shawn did when he did what Roscoe set up for him, like a good little boy.
    Forcing his eyes open, Shawn pushed up onto his elbow and rolled off the bed. He didn’t even try to avoid disturbing Roscoe, knowing he was a relatively light sleeper. Shawn didn’t glance back to fi nd out if he was awake, just made his way into the bathroom and closed the door.
    You should have left last night, he told his refl ection as he waited for the shower water to heat. He didn’t want to deal with Roscoe.
    Last night had been great—fabulous, stupendous—and that was more reason for him to make tracks. He could get used to this again—and that was so not going to happen. Still grumbling at 24 Mykles ~ Much Ado
    himself, he snatched a towel from the narrow corner cupboard where they resided, and stepped into the shower to wash off the previous night’s excess.
    His clothing was draped over the foot of the empty bed when he emerged. The scrape of a pan on a burner and the hushed clack of the refrigerator door told him where Roscoe was. A glance over the railing showed Roscoe at the kitchen island, chopping peppers. His mouth watered in a Pavlovian response to the thought of one of Roscoe’s omelets. The man knew how to make breakfast. He got into his shirt and jeans then carried his socks and shoes down the stairs.
    “I don’t have any mozzarella,” Roscoe told him, turning to dump red and yellow bits into the frying pan without even glancing up at Shawn. “Just cheddar and provolone. Sorry.”
    “‘Sokay.” Unable to resist, even without his favorite cheese, Shawn hitched up onto one of the barstools on the other side of the island. What? There was no sense being rude about leaving.
    Roscoe was shirtless, back to him, as he used the spatula on the eggs. Worn track pants rode low on slim hips, a far more casual look than he ever showed outside