Reviews for Kelly Jensen

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Mal checked the time. What the heck—it was New Year’s Eve and he should get kissed.Brian followed his gaze, clearly checking the time for himself. “Want to wait for midnight?”

“No.” Because . . . “I’m not very good at this.” Okay, that’s enough. Stop talking now.

“You’re doing fine.”

“There’re probably a dozen other guys in this bar who would give their left nut to talk to you. Why are you bothering with me?”

“Why would you ask a question like that?”

“Because you unsettle me.”

“But in a good way.”

Brian smiled, and Mal let his lips curve upward in response—because Brian was right. Heck, yeah, he was uncomfortable and it wasn’t because his legs ached. Or the creeping fatigue from PT. The knowledge that even getting to the bathroom was a journey he had to plan. He wondered, then, if he should grab his crutch, pull it out of the shadow of the bar, and show it to Brian, and quickly realized that if he did, he’d be making another excuse. Besides, he didn’t want to have sex with Brian tonight.

Actually, he did.

But he wasn’t going to have sex with Brian tonight. Brian Kenway obviously enjoyed playing games and much as Mal suspected he’d enjoy a night in Brian’s bed, he knew it would probably be a one-off thing. No one put this much intensity into friendship. Brian saw him as a hookup. Nothing more.

Mal didn’t do hookups. Since his breakup with Noah, he’d preferred loneliness to the sharp disappointment of connection and separation, or the simple fact that people so often weren’t who he thought they were in the light of day.

He glanced at the clock over the bar. “Three minutes.”

Brian showed him another grin, this one not at all lazy. “Need some practice puckering up?”

“Fuck you.” Resisting the urge to stretch his lips, lick them, get all loose and ready for a kiss, Mal laughed. Then licked his lips, damn it.

Brian chuckled softly and raised his glass for another sip. He did it slowly, as though knowing Mal would watch him swallow and wonder what the drink would taste like on his lips. His tongue.

“Want a taste?” Brian asked, offering him the glass.

Mal accepted the glass and took a quick sip. The drink was strong and his head spun lightly. Putting it aside, he licked his lips again, tasting bourbon and something sharper, drier. Vermouth? The bitters touched his tongue last, a tangy aftertaste, and he could imagine how well an orange peel would go with the drink.

He was wondering how Brian managed to smell like oranges when the countdown began.

“Ten, nine, eight . . .”

Brian hadn’t leaned in. Should he do it?

“Seven, six, five . . .”

Should he take his glasses off?

“Four, three . . .”

What if he missed?

“Two . . .”

What if the kiss landed on Brian’s cheek or nose or—

“One!”

Oranges, cardamom, cinnamon, and musk. Warmth whispering across his lips in quick invitation before pressing down, lightly, without demand. Somehow their noses didn’t collide. Somehow, Mal’s lips were parting before a swipe of Brian’s tongue.

Brian didn’t invade, though. He teased. He waited.

Understanding flashing inside his head like a cracked blind at dawn, Mal leaned in and kissed back. Offered up his mouth. Tasted. Hummed at the delicious flavor of whiskey and man. The persistent hint of orange. The prickle of stubble as their mouths moved and realigned. He touched his tongue to Brian’s and opened his mouth. Brian swept inside and the warmth at the back of Mal’s neck now must be Brian’s hand. Oh God, it felt good.

So warm.

So necessary.

Then Brian was shifting back, blinking slowly, and noise crashed into the perfect bubble of their kiss, breaking the moment apart with cheers of “Happy New Year” and the lambent strains of “Auld Lang Syne.”

Mal breathed. Quaked. Ignored the near pain behind the fly of his jeans. Took another breath. “That was . . .”

“Some kiss.” Brian’s grin had that lazy aspect again.

This Time Forever Series

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