Standing there, Henry can feel every nerve in his body alert, every heartbeat thrumming in his ears, every breath shallow and uneven.
The space between them feels electric, charged with the unsaid, the forbidden, the impossible.
He knows, with a certainty that terrifies him, that he feels something for Riley. Not a vague admiration or fleeting attraction, but something that burrows deep, that claws at him when he least expects it.
When he was away, it wasn't just Skye he thought about. Riley kept intruding stubbornly, a constant presence in the edges of his mind.
And it bothered him, more than he cared to admit. It made him restless, irritable, almost feral in his longing.
He had spent years denying this part of himself, pretending he could function without desire for another man, convincing himself that the life he had built was sufficient.
