The Best Man: Part Three (FINAL) Read Online Free PDF Page A

how much of this is real. “None of this matters anymore.”
    “Is that what you think?”
    “It’s what I have to think.”
    “You’re a fucking idiot,” Patrick says, and for the second time this week Noah finds himself pressed up against a wall, next to the kitchen this time, and Patrick’s breathing heat and fury and frustration into his face. “Feel that?” he asks, pressing a hand against Noah’s chest, branding him with it. “Feel how hard that’s beating? When have you ever felt that with Connor?”
    Noah swallows, and he breathes in a shuddery breath, because he knew all this before Patrick ever showed up on the scene, always knew there was this thing missing between him and Connor, something he and Patrick have in abundance. “I love him,” he insists, but it’s becoming harder and harder to cling on to that barrier.
    “I’m not talking about love,” Patrick says, pressing in closer, dragging his hand up Noah’s chest to hold the side of his neck. “I’m talking about want . Your heart’s racing for me, your whole body’s burning up. Right now you can’t think about anything except what it feels like to be this close to me.”
    There’s no point denying any of it. Patrick’s standing too close—he’ll only see the lie in his eyes. “Lust doesn’t get you anywhere in life.”
    “You’re going to spend the rest of your life with a man who makes you vaguely happy.”
    “No, I’m spending the rest of my life with a man who loves me. Maybe he doesn’t turn me on as much as he could, but it’s enough, and he loves me. You—you would never love me.”
    A flash of pure anger crosses Patrick’s face. “You don’t know anything .”
    Everything freezes, the whole world around them, stuck in this moment of staring at each other, and heaving breaths, and Patrick’s eyes on fire. And Noah’s burning up from the inside, everything within him screaming out for this man he can’t have, but who he wants so desperately he’s tearing up with it.
    And then Patrick makes a low noise of urgency deep in his throat and comes at him like an attack, a rough slant of his mouth over Noah’s and going in with his tongue before Noah can think, can react, can do nothing but groan a high, keening whine and take it, and kiss him, and give it all back.
    He tears his mouth away not ten seconds into it, gasping, his head smacking back against the wall behind him.
    “No—”
    “Shut up,” Patrick hisses, and he presses in close, thighs and hips and chest, and Noah can feel the hardness of him, and the agonising need of him, as he gets his hands on Noah’s face and drags his thumbs over Noah’s cheekbones and tips his head up to look at him, see him. “Don’t think. Just don’t start thinking.”
    And then he’s kissing him again, and it all comes together at once deep within Noah like an explosion—how much he wants him, how much he’s been craving him all these weeks, the pressure he’s kept himself under to stay away, to not think about it.
    He lets it all wash away in a euphoric rush of desire, and he gives in.
    Patrick feels it, the moment Noah gives in; he groans out a noise that sounds like the heavy weight of relief, and he deepens the kiss, and he claws his hands down Noah’s neck and his chest to his waist, gets beneath his top and presses his hands to bare skin, flat on the small of his back, uses it to pull Noah in against him. Noah can’t think; his head’s swimming with lust and desire and want, and his heart’s hammering painfully against his ribs, and he wants this man like he’s never wanted anything in his life, and he needs him, right now, no more barriers or thinking about what’s right .
    Because right now, in this moment, this feels right. This feels like the best decision he’s ever made.
    He breaks the kiss, and he’s panting, and his hands start working in a frenzy to get the buttons of Patrick’s shirt open; and then Patrick’s helping him, their fingers