Unbalanced by Kate Douglas Page B

something waiting when he didn’t know what to expect. “It’s odd. Nothing I can put a finger on, but I have the strangest sense that things are about to change. I can’t explain it, but I’m afraid to ignore it.”
    Stefan leaned his forehead against Anton’s. “Aren’t you the one who told me change is good?”
    “I may have said something stupid like that at some point. I don’t know, Stef . . .” Anton took a deep breath, inhaling Stefan’s scent, feeling the warmth from his body, sensing as much as hearing the rush of blood in his veins, the steady beat of his heart. He tangled his fingers in the thick fall of hair at Stefan’s nape, angled his head just right, and kissed him.
    This at least he understood. This he could control.
    There was no hesitation in Stefan’s response. His lips were firm. Cool at first from the night air, and then warming as they pressed close to Anton’s, as they parted beneath the gentle probing of his tongue.
    Heads tilting for easier access, tongues tangling, they stood perfectly still as they kissed—longtime lovers and friends, as familiar to one another as the face in the mirror, as emotionally linked as if they were bonded mates.
    As they explored the intimate recesses of one another’s mouths, their hearts found their perfect rhythm and fell into a synchronicity never explained, yet never doubted or questioned.
    Some things, my friend, are better because they don’t change. Because they’re familiar and beloved . Anton ended the kiss and leaned back enough to peer into Stef’s dark amber eyes.
    Stef nodded. This is true. C’mon. Follow me. He took Anton’s hand and tugged lightly.
    Smiling, Anton allowed himself to be led, following the narrow trail through the tangled willows until there was nothing but soft, dry grass beneath his bare feet, and the musical notes of water dancing in the shadows.
    He tilted his head, listening to the soothing sound of the small waterfall. “I’m surprised the water’s still falling this late in the season. Most years it’s barely a trickle by now.”
    Stef’s low chuckle sent a wave of gooseflesh down his arms, across his chest. “Why are you whispering, o exalted leader?”
    Anton laughed out loud. “Not sure. Habit, I guess. Afraid of waking the babies?”
    “They can’t hear us here, and personally, I fully intend to make a lot of noise.” Stef plopped down on a blanket he’d obviously laid out in advance. Again, he tugged Anton’s hand. “You coming?”
    “I certainly hope to.” He’d grown hard from the first touch of Stefan’s lips against his, but now, knowing what his friend had planned, Anton’s heart raced and the breath strained his lungs. He stretched out on the soft blanket beside Stefan, trying to look calmer than he actually felt. It had been a long time since they’d done this. Too damned long . He ran his fingers across the sharp ridge of Stef’s collarbone. “How did you know I’d follow you?”
    “When have you not?” Stefan’s voice sounded hoarse, as if it were an effort to form the words, but it was obvious he had other things on his mind. He ran his hand over Anton’s shoulder, followed the muscular curve of his arm, trailed across the sharp jut of hip bone and then cupped the rounded curve of his butt.
    Anton’s buttocks clenched involuntarily, tightening around Stefan’s fingers as they slipped along the clenched valley between his cheeks and paused over his puckered sphincter. He groaned and forced his muscles to relax. Stefan never said a word. With his eyes focused on Anton’s, he stroked intimately and probed lightly—not enough pressure to penetrate, but more than enough to tease.
    Damn, but he’d missed this. What had once occurred nightly was now too rare—this intimate time alone. Time to explore one another’s bodies, to wallow in the pure sensuality of taste and scent and touch, of fucking until their legs trembled and their overwhelming Chanku sex drives were—for