...Once they sat down, everything went smoothly. Unless you counted the way their thighs brushed together, or the way Dave perspired, although his sweating had nothing to do with the hot sun beating down on his shoulders and everything to do with the bare curve of Micah’s broad shoulders and the white tank top that clung to the other man’s sinuous flesh. Sitting so close, Dave could smell the light scent of sweat wafting from Micah’s glistening skin, and it went to his head faster than the most potent liquor.

It was damn hard concentrating on the race when he had such a better view sitting right next to him, but he managed. And although he enjoyed listening to Micah’s quick witticisms about life and sharing comfortable silences with him, being around him also felt like punishment. The entire time Micah went on and on about some trivial thing at work, or whatever the moment’s discussion happened to be, Dave’s mind multi-tasked. Part of him listened to Micah; the other part pictured the man naked, Micah’s creamy skin flushed with pleasure. It was a fantasy based on the sight of Micah in all his wet, bare glory the weekend before.

If only a stiff wind had whisked away the towel…

After returning to Micah’s house, Dave agreed to join his new friend for a drink before he headed home. While sitting in Micah’s living room, sipping a stout margarita from the stash Micah kept ready in the fridge and trying to put off the short journey to his lonely townhouse, Dave turned his neck the wrong way and felt a sharp twinge of pain rush down his spine. Somewhere between falling asleep on his sofa the night before and dozing in Micah’s truck on the way back from the race, Dave had developed a sore neck. With a wince, he rubbed his nape and tried to work out the stiffness.

“You all right?” Micah asked, already working on his second—or was that his third?—drink.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just have a damn crick in my neck. It’s probably from falling asleep on the couch last night. You’d think I’d know better, but I get comfortable and then I’m out like a light.”

Micah set his drink on the floor by the couch. “Your couch must be more comfortable than mine. This damn thing is a killer. I could probably rest easier on the floor.” With a grin, he rose to his feet and walked around the back of the couch to stand behind Dave. Warm hands landed on Dave’s shoulders. “Let me help. You know, I took a few massage therapy classes when I was in college because this hottie I had my eye on enrolled in the class.” Micah laughed and began to knead Dave’s shoulders, his thumbs digging into the sore spot in the middle of Dave’s nape. “Things didn’t work out so well there, but I did learn a thing or two.”

“God, that feels good.” Dave groaned, then snapped his lips shut, horrified that he’d failed to censor his thoughts and had actually verbalized them. He tensed, waiting for Micah to say something.

“It’s supposed to feel good. Sit and relax. I’ll have those tight muscles loosened up in no time.”

Dave swallowed the moan building in his throat and tried to stay as still as possible—not an easy feat when his cock was hardening by the second and pressing against his zipper for liberation. He would have been humiliated had Micah realized what effect his massage was having on Dave’s libido, but the other man seemed oblivious. As it stood, a firestorm of need was building in Dave’s groin, aided by the magic of Micah’s nimble fingers working his neck and shoulders, rubbing away the soreness and replacing it with a precious ache Dave had never felt before. He’d experienced lust, knew it well, but the sensation building in his groin was deeper, more intense than what he was used to.

It scared the piss out of him.