plik

This  is  a  work  of  fiction.  The  characters,  incidents  and
dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are
not  to  be  construed  as  real.  Any  resemblance  to  actual
events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

No  part  of  this  book  may  be  reproduced  or  transmitted  in
any  form  or  by  any  means,  electronic  or  mechanical,
including  photocopying,  recording,  or  by  any  information
storage  and  retrieval  system,  without  permission  in  writing
from the publisher.

Carnal Passions
A Division of Champagne Books

www.carnalpassions.com

Carnal Passions

#35069-4604 37 ST SW

Calgary, AB T3E 7C7

Canada

One

Chewing my thumbnail and fidgeting on the couch, I

stared at the front door and waited for my ex-boyfriend to
knock.

Less than an hour had passed since Craig had called to

say he needed to talk to me, but the atmosphere in my
apartment had a strange, emptiness about it, as if he’d
already come and gone, leaving only an echo of his presence
and whatever he’d come to say. Not unlike the night he left.

I picked my water bottle up off the coffee table and

took a drink, then played with the cap, spinning it one way,
then the other, then back, just to give my hands something
to do. Over and over I tried to tell myself that there was no
point  in  getting  this  wound  up  over  a  conversation  that
hadn’t  happened  yet.  It  could  be  about  anything.  We  were
still friends. We still talked and hung out.

But really, I was kidding myself. Craig could handle all

but the most serious conversations by phone, yet he’d
insisted on meeting in person. And it couldn’t wait.

Maybe he was having problems with his girlfriend

again  and  needed  advice.  At  that  thought,  I  clenched  my
jaw.  It  shouldn’t  have  bothered  me  that  my  ex  was  with  a
woman  now,  but  it  did.  I  guess  on  some  strange  level,  the
fact that he had a girlfriend put him that much farther out of
my  reach.  A  new  boyfriend  left  me  a  little  inkling  of  hope
that  I  still  had  a  fighting  chance in  the  future.  The  fact  that
he  was  with  a  woman  gave  our  split  a  kind  of  resonating
permanence, an implicit "This is how far I’ve moved on from
you."

Ah, the joys of being with a bisexual man. I wondered

if the girlfriend before me felt the same way when she found
out about me.

The sharp three-beat knock made me sit up so fast I

nearly  dropped  my  water  bottle.  Setting  it  on  the  coffee
table, I stood and went to the door, trying to convince myself
one  last  time  that  there  was  no  reason  to  worry.  He  just
wanted  to  talk.  It  didn’t  mean  it  was  anything  bad,  or  that
this was going to hurt.

But when I opened the door, my heart went into my

throat.

The look on his face did nothing to ease my nerves. It

was  the  same  apologetic  expression—eyebrows  pulled
together  above  wide  eyes,  lips  thinned  into  a  grimace  that
was  almost  painful,  three  worried  lines  creasing  his
forehead—he’d had just before he told me he was leaving.

My stomach did a somersault, but I smiled through it

and  gestured  for  him  to  come  in.  Neither  looking  at  me  nor
speaking,  he  did,  shrinking  away  from  me  slightly  as  he
moved  past.  It  instantly  made  me  miss  the  time  when  he
couldn’t  walk  by  me  without  at  least  some  sort  of
affectionate  contact.  Shaking  my  head,  I  pushed  those
thoughts back and followed him into the living room.

He stopped and stood with his back to me, hands in

his  pockets,  shifting  his  weight.  Making  no  move  to  sit.
Probably not planning to stay long. Then he turned and faced
me,  but  scratched  the  back  of  his  neck  and  looked  at  the
floor.

And still the silence lingered.

Finally, I said, "You wanted to talk?"

His eyes flicked up and met mine. Then he nodded.

"Yeah.  Yeah,  I  did."  He  sank  onto  the  sofa,  the  muffled
squeak of leather creating a mix of relief and apprehension in
my  gut.  He  was  planning  to  stay  for  a  while.  Whatever  he
came  to  talk  about,  he  didn’t  expect  it  to  be  over  in  a  few
short minutes.

Steepling his fingers in front of his lips, he rested his

elbows on his knees and looked at the coffee table, his brow
knitting again.

Too wound up to sit, I folded my arms across my

chest and leaned against the wall. He glanced up at me, then

his eyes shifted slightly to my left. His cheeks darkening, he
dropped his gaze again.

"I’m surprised you still have that thing on the wall," he

said quietly.

I looked at the painting that hung above the

television. One of his paintings. I shrugged. "I guess I just
got used to it being there. Left it up there out of habit."

His eyes met mine and I knew he saw right through

me, but he didn’t press the issue. We’d had this conversation
a hundred times before, and I’d more or less convinced him
that I would get over him when I got over him.

"I don’t imagine you came all the way across town to

discuss my living room décor," I said.

His chin rested on his hands, which were now folded

loosely, and he lowered his eyes again. "No, I didn’t."

I shifted my weight slightly, "So, what—"

"Rebecca and I are getting married."

He couldn’t have knocked more air out of my lungs if

he’d punched me in the chest. Recovering as quickly as I
could, I cleared my throat and said, "Wow, that’s…" I
paused. "Congratulations."

"Thanks. I asked her the other night." He laughed

softly. "Still kind of weird to even say it. Me, getting married,
who knew?"

Yeah. I pursed my lips. Who knew?

He wrung his hands. "Are you," he paused. "Are you

okay with this?"

"Craig, why wouldn’t I be?" Besides the fact that I

would kill for even one more night with you. "I want you to
be happy." I just wish you were still happy with me.

He eyed me. "You know what I mean, Jon."

"Yes, you’re right, I do," I said, chewing the inside of

my cheek. "And I’m fine with it."

He regarded me silently for a moment. Then he stared

at his hands. "There’s…" he hesitated. "There’s one more
thing."

This should be good. I raised my eyebrows. "Okay?"

"I want you to be my best man."

I was wrong. There was still some air left for him to

knock out of my lungs. "You—" I swallowed, my mouth
suddenly dry. "Are you serious?"

He nodded, avoiding my eyes. "Look, I know it’s an

odd thing to ask, given—" He stopped, pursing his lips and
finally looking at me. "Given our history. But Jon, you’re my
closest friend. I’ll understand if you can’t, but…"

"What does Rebecca think of this?" She wasn’t

particularly fond of me anyway, nor the fact that Craig and I
were still good friends.

He shook his head. "I haven’t told her yet."

"Don’t you think you should mention it to her? Given

that it’s her wedding too?"

"I wanted to talk to you about it first. See if you were

even willing to do it before I took the time to argue with her
about it."

Shifting my weight again, I said, "So you don’t think

she’ll be thrilled about it."

"Probably not." He shrugged. "Not at first, anyway.

You know how she is."

"Yes, I do," I said. "But asking her to be okay with

your ex-boyfriend as your best man? Don’t you think that’s
pushing it?"

"Let me deal with her," he said. "What I want to know

is if you’re okay with it. If you’re not, I’ll ask someone else,
but Jon, I want you to be my best man."

Chewing my lip, I stared at the floor. Though there

was  very  little  I  wouldn’t  do  for  Craig,  I  had  to  admit,  this
was  pushing  it.  I  wouldn’t  miss  his  wedding  for  the  world,
but  I  wasn’t  sure  I  could  stand  beside  him  with  Rebecca’s
ring in my pocket and pretend it wasn’t killing me.

"Jon?"

I leaned one shoulder against the wall, trying to look

as casual and relaxed as I didn’t feel. "I’m flattered, but…" I
licked my lips. "Do you need an answer right now?"

"No, of course not."

"Have you set a date yet?"

"Not yet. We’re going to talk it over tonight after she

gets home. Probably a few months out, at least."

I chuckled. "Not going to rush into it, are you?"

His eyebrow lifted and the slight twist of his mouth

made me wonder if I’d crossed a line. "Look, I know she and
I haven’t been together long—"

"Craig." I put my hand up. "I’m not questioning you. If

you know she’s the one you want to be with…" I shrugged.
"Then I’m happy for you."

"But you think I’m moving too fast with her." It wasn’t

a question.

I swallowed. "There’s no way I can answer that

without sounding like I’m either patronizing you or trying to
talk you out of it for my own gain."

He cocked his head. "Indulge me."

I hesitated. His flat, low tone sounded all too familiar.

It held the same undercurrent of annoyance that it always
did when he picked a fight. I sighed. "Craig, I didn’t mean
anything by it, it’s—"

"Just tell me."

Are you humoring me or daring me? I let out a breath.

Oh, what the hell? What are you going to do? Leave me?
"Look, I’m saying this as your friend, not your ex-boyfriend."

He said nothing, but gestured for me to continue.

My eyes fixed on the coffee table instead of him. "Are

you sure you’re not rushing into this?"

He hesitated for a split second, but that fleeting

silence spoke volumes. "Yes, I am."

I looked him in the eye. "After four months?"

"Listen, I know we haven’t been together long, but I

know she’s the one for me."

"Craig, it took you two fucking years to figure out I

wasn’t the one for you." My chest tightened as the words
came out before I could stop them.

He looked away, setting his jaw. "You and I both knew

a long, long time ago that we weren’t right for each other."

"Speak for yourself," I said through my teeth.

His expression was still calm, but his fingers folded so

tightly that his knuckles blanched. "So now who am I talking
to? My friend, or my ex-boyfriend?"

Letting out a breath, I closed my eyes. "I’m sorry, I

didn’t mean to go there, it’s—"

"I know, it’s a raw nerve," he said, his tone calm.

"Which is why I’ll understand if you don’t want—"

"It’s not that. This has nothing to do with being your

best man or not." Oh, what an ironic title for an ex-
boyfriend. "My feelings are what they are. But, I’m serious.
Asking as your friend, who really does want to see you

happy, are you sure you’re not rushing into this?"

He rested his chin on his folded hands again.

"Honestly, I’ve known from the day I met her that this was
coming." Before I could speak, he stood. Came towards me.
"Jon, I know it seems like I’m moving fast with her, but I
know she’s the right one for me."

"Then if you’re sure about it, I’m happy for you."

He nodded, but didn’t smile. "What about you?"

I blinked. "I just said, I’m happy for you."

"No, I mean, are you happy? Not about me, just, in

general?"

My shoulders dropped and so did my gaze. "I’m

getting there."

"That sounds like a no."

"Craig, I’m fine," I said. "Honestly. I just, I take a little

more time than you do to move past things." I met his gaze
and gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile. "Don’t
worry about me. I’ll be fine." I broke eye contact and looked
away.

He said nothing, and after a moment, his silence

prompted me to look at him. Once I did, he finally spoke.
"Have you gone out? Met anyone?"

"I’ve been out a little," I lied. "Just haven’t met

anyone worth mentioning."

The slight raise of his eyebrow told me that, as

always, he saw right through me. "You know, even if you’re
not ready for something serious, maybe it would do you
good to meet some new guys. Get laid. Something."

I rolled my eyes. "I think I’ll manage."

"I’m serious, Jon, I—"

"Craig." I put my hands up. "Don’t worry about me,

okay?"

His voice softened. "You know I do, though."

"I know. I know. But you’ve got a wedding to plan, a

lot of things on your plate."

"That doesn’t change the fact that I worry about you. I

want you to be happy, too."

Then come back. "I will be. I just need more time than

you."

He went quiet. I had a feeling he wasn’t convinced,

that he was just trying to decide whether or not to push the

issue. After a moment, he said, "I didn’t realize you were still
having such a hard time with it."

"I’m better than I was."

He nodded, but didn’t look at me. "You know I didn’t

do it to hurt—"

"Craig." I put my hands up again. "We’ve been over

this. You did what you had to do, and I’ll deal with it in my
own time."

Looking at the floor, he put his hands in his jacket

pockets. "If being part of the wedding is too much, I’ll
understand."

It is. You don’t even know, Craig. But I couldn’t

stomach the idea of sending him into his marriage thinking I
was still this torn up over him, even if I was. If I could stand
up there at the altar with him, then he would know I was at
peace with it.

Even if I wasn’t.

"If you want me to be your best man," I said, pausing

to wet my parched lips. "Then I will."

He looked up, searching my eyes. I very nearly

reached for his arm, just to silently reassure him, but it
would be too tempting to hold on.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said, swallowing hard.

His eyes repeated the question and my smile repeated

my answer.

"Okay," he said with a nod, letting out a breath. "I’ll

bring it up to Rebecca tonight."

"Good luck with that," I said, chuckling.

He laughed. "She’ll be fine with it."

"Eventually."

"Right." He squared his shoulders, cocking his head to

one side, then the other, as if loosening a kink. "I’d better
go. Traffic’s going to be a bitch if I wait much longer."

Forcing a smile, I nodded. "Congratulations again."

"Thanks," he said with a smile that seemed only

marginally more genuine than my own. We were silent for a
moment before he started towards the front door. I followed,
hooking my thumbs in the belt loops of my jeans just to give
my hands something to do besides reach for him.

He opened the door and started to step out, but

stopped. I rested my forearm on the doorframe, watching
him, wondering what was on the tip of his tongue that made
his brow furrow like that.

He turned to leave and I thought he’d decided to let

his thought go, but he paused again and looked over his
shoulder. "Jon, promise me something."

"What?"

Meeting my eyes, he barely whispered, "You’ll at least

try to make yourself happy."

I was happy. "I’ll try."

He looked at me for a moment, then nodded and

continued down the hall. I closed the door before he was out
of sight. He’d been to my apartment plenty of times since
we’d split, but I still couldn’t bring myself to watch him turn
that corner at the end of the hall again.

I leaned against the door and released a long breath.

He was absolutely right. I needed to move on. In the

six months since he’d left, I hadn’t met anyone at all. Hadn’t
felt the need.

Tonight, though, in the wake of his announcement

that he was—more than ever—out of my reach, I needed to
get out of the house and meet some people.

I went into the bedroom to change clothes.

Two

Walking through the front door of Wilde’s was like

stepping into another world.

Seattle was blessed with numerous gay and gay-

friendly  clubs,  but  Wilde’s  was  one  of  the  somewhat  higher
brow places: Live music, top shelf liquor, a strict dress code,
low  lighting  everywhere  except  the  dance  floor.  It  was
relaxed,  but  swanky,  with  leather  booths  and  bow-tied
bartenders.  The  music  was  just  loud  enough  to  warrant
getting  extra  close  to  someone  to  talk,  but  not  enough  to
leave a person’s ears ringing after they left.

Gulping back my nerves as I paid the cover and

checked my coat, I was glad I hadn’t chosen one of the more
casual places. The atmosphere here was just subdued
enough to keep me from shying away. This whole thing was
intimidating enough without blasting music and wild lighting
to assault the senses. Walking through the crowd, I couldn’t
recall ever feeling quite so out of place. So lost.

A few times, I considered backing out and heading

home, but since staying here meant not spending the
evening at home pining over Craig, I convinced myself to
face an intimidating night out on the prowl.

On the prowl. Christ, I don’t even know what I’m

looking for.

A knot twisted in my gut as I headed for the bar for a

little  courage  on  the rocks.  It  was  entirely  too  soon  to  even
think about a relationship, so if I met anyone tonight, it was
either  casual  sex  or  friendship.  Glancing  around  at  the  guys
getting  close  on  the  dance  floor  and  even  closer  in  booths,
friendship was pretty much off the menu in a place like this.

I had never been particularly promiscuous. I wasn’t

against casual sex on principle, it had just never been my
thing. Craig had often ribbed me about being a serial
monogamist, and maybe he was right.

But tonight, I told myself as I took one of the available

barstools, I would just see what happened.

A bartender materialized in front of me. "What can I

get you?"

I gave the top shelf selections a glance to see if

anything sounded good, then went for my usual. "Jack and
Coke."

He nodded and went about mixing it as I pulled my

wallet out. As I took my drink and he took the cash, I turned
my barstool enough to give me a wide view of the club and
its patrons.

The place was crawling with attractive men, some of

whom caught my eye and exchanged smiles—even
suggestive grins—with me. But I didn’t know where to start.

Hi, I’m Jon, care for a fuck?

My name’s Jon. I’m emotionally fucked in the head

right now but wouldn’t mind a roll in the hay.

I shuddered. This was just not me. What the hell was I

doing? What was I thinking?

Maybe this was a bad idea. Oh well. At least I’m out of

the house.

Sighing, I turned back around to face the bar, and my

breath caught in my throat.

Leaning casually against the counter below the top

shelf  bottles  was  a  different  bartender.  Even  the  club’s  dim
light  didn’t  detract  from  his  striking,  pale  green  eyes,  and  I
couldn’t look away from him if I wanted to. He didn’t seem to
mind  the  fact  that  I  was  staring,  though.  After  all,  he  was
looking right at me.

When I could finally look somewhere other than his

eyes, I wasn’t disappointed.

The tux shirt perfectly emphasized his broad chest and

shoulders, while the black cummerbund subtly drew my
attention to his narrow hips.

It seemed that everyone else on staff in this club was

clean-shaven, but stubble heavily shadowed his angular jaw.
Still, he didn’t seem out of place. He had a kind of classy,

dignified  air  about  him  that  let  him  get  away  with  not
shaving, even with a tux shirt and bowtie. As he wiped down
a  rocks  glass  with  a  white  towel,  I  noticed  then  that  his
sleeves  were  unbuttoned  and  rolled  partway  up  his  toned
forearms. He must have had some seniority if he could show
up unshaven and with his sleeves rolled up so casually.

"Refill?" He nodded towards my empty glass.

"Uh, yeah, how about—" I looked down at my glass,

trying to remember what the hell I’d been drinking.

"Jack and Coke?"

"How did you know?"

He smiled as he set the rocks glass down and dropped

some ice into it. "I saw Zach pouring the first one. Figured
you were a creature of habit."

"Perceptive." I chuckled, folding my arms on the bar

and leaning on them. "Anything else you figured out about
me while I wasn’t looking?"

"Well," he said, pouring what looked like more than a

single shot of Jack Daniels into the glass. "I’m guessing
you’re either new in town or newly single."

My eyebrows jumped. The corners of his eyes crinkled

with amusement and he finished making my drink. When he
set it on the bar, I started to pull a five out of my wallet, but
he held up his hand.

"On the house."

"Is the psychic reading free, too?"

He laughed. "The drink’s on me. As for the psychic

reading, the only charge for that is that you might have to
put up with my lack of conversation skills for a few more
minutes."

"I haven’t noticed anything lacking so far." I lifted my

glass.

"Likewise," he said with a wink.

My cheeks burned and a second later, so did my

throat. I was right, he definitely put more than a single shot
of Jack into the drink. Just the way I liked it.

"So, what makes you think I’m either new in town or

newly single?" I asked.

He rested his hands on the bar, his shoulders lifting

slightly as he shifted his weight. Nodding towards the door,
he said, "The ‘fish out of water’ look on your face when you

came in."

I shrugged. "Could just be that I’ve never been to this

particular club."

He shook his head. "I see a lot of new people come

through  that  door  who  have  obviously  been  around  clubs,
just haven’t been in here." His smile turned into a cocky grin
that  suddenly  made  my  drink  taste  like  water.  "But  then
there’s  the  people  who  come  in  looking  like  they’ve  just
arrived  from  another  planet.  And  over  the  years,  I’ve  found
that most of those have either just moved here or are trying
to move on after a relationship."

I raised my glass as if to toast him. "Very observant."

"So, if it’s not too forward of me…" His eyes narrowed

a bit as if he was trying to read between the lines of what I
thought was a neutral expression. "Should I be welcoming
you to the Emerald City, or buying you another drink to
commiserate?"

Draining the last of my drink, I rolled it around in my

mouth and set the glass in front of him.

"Sorry to hear it." The amusement faded from his face

as he pulled another glass out from under the bar and filled
it with ice.

"Just make it a Coke this time." My head was already

light, but I couldn’t tell if it was Jack or… whatever his name
was.

He nodded and topped the glass off with Coke.

"So if you’re commiserating," I said. "I’m guessing

you’re recently out of a relationship too?"

"Ooh, yeah." He grimaced. "Three years, and he picks

up and walks away like nothing ever happened."

"Ouch." I sipped my drink. "I’ve actually been single

for a while, just didn’t feel like meeting anyone right away."

"Understandable," he said. "It’s only been a couple of

weeks for me. Bastard hasn’t even gotten all of his shit out
of my apartment yet."

"You haven’t done the ‘come and get it or I throw it

out the window’ ultimatum yet?"

He laughed, but some of the humor disappeared from

his expression. "I have. I think he just wants to make it as
miserable as possible. Anything to draw it out, even if he
initiated it." He dropped his gaze for a second.

"I’ll bet I can beat that." I rolled my eyes.

"Try me," he said.

"My ex came by tonight to tell me he’s getting

married."

His eyes widened. "How long did ago did you say you

split up?"

"Six months."

He whistled. "He doesn’t wait around, does he?" Then

he paused. "Sorry, no offense."

"None taken." I put my finger on the end of my straw.

"But it gets better." Keeping my finger on the straw, I lifted
it out of my glass and put the other end on my tongue. As I
let my finger go so the Coke would come out of the straw, I
noticed his eyes were following. When I ran my tongue
around the end of the straw, his lips parted and he looked
away, clearing his throat.

"So, um, what happened?" he asked, his cheeks

coloring a little.

"He wants me to be his best man."

The bartender blinked. "You’re kidding."

"Maybe we should introduce our exes." I paused.

"Well, if they were both still single, anyway."

He opened his mouth to speak, then glanced down the

bar and paused. "Shit, I need to take care of some other
customers." Looking at me, he said, "You going to be here a
while?"

I am now. I smiled. "Not going anywhere."

With a wink that made my head spin, he stepped away

to see to his other customers. It was only when he was gone
that I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Ever
since I’d turned around, since I’d first laid eyes on him, I
hadn’t drawn a proper breath.

I thought of the way he’d watched me with the straw

and shivered. The way he’d looked at me when I first turned
around. I wasn’t imagining it, was I?

As he tended to customers a few feet away, smiling

and laughing politely with them, he cast me a quick look and
his  smile  faded.  It  didn’t  fade  in  the  sense  that  he  was
suddenly  embarrassed  or  annoyed  by  my  presence  or  the
fact that I was looking at him. Quite the contrary.

His eyes said nothing if not, "Let’s get the hell out of

here."

My heart pounded. I knew nothing about him beyond

his job and the fact that he was recently single. I didn’t even
know his name, but I suddenly wanted to hear him growling
mine in my ear.

We continued that way for a while, shooting the

breeze while he was between customers.  Every time he was
sure  that  every  glass  and  bottle  on  the  bar  had  been  filled,
he came right back to me.

At one point, while he filled drinks, several more

bartenders  appeared  and  a  few  others  left.  Shift  change,  I
guessed. When he caught sight of one of the newcomers, his
expression  changed.  This  time,  it  was  annoyance.  As  the
other bartender approached him, they exchanged a few brief
and,  by  the  looks  of  it,  terse  words.  Then  they  disappeared
into the back.

It was almost fifteen minutes before he came back

into view, his jaw set and his eyebrows knitted together over
narrowed eyes. He kept his eyes down as he approached me.
Before I’d even said a word, he went about filling another
glass with Coke. Glancing back the way he came, he pulled a
piece of paper out of his pocket.

"My boss is here," he said. "And he’s on the warpath

today, so I can’t chat." He put the drink I hadn’t ordered on
a napkin, slid it towards me, and tucked the piece of paper
under it. Then he met my eyes. "I’m off in an hour." Tapping
the bar beside my drink, he said, "If you want to talk
someplace quieter, I can meet you there."

With that, he turned to go.

"Wait," I said.

He paused and came back, glancing over his shoulder

and swallowing nervously.

"Do I have to wait until then to find out your name?"

He smiled. "Liam Sable. Yours?"

"Jon Beatty."

"I’ll see you in an hour."

Three

The note under the napkin directed me to an all-night

coffee  shop  a  few  blocks  away.  As  most  halfway  decent
coffee shops were in Seattle, the place was packed. Since it
was  a  cool  night,  though,  the  handful  of  tables  on  the
sidewalk  were  empty.  As  soon  as  I  had  my  drink  in  hand,  I
went outside and took a seat.

Neither the cold air nor hot coffee registered in my

senses as I waited for Liam. There was no doubt in my mind
what he was thinking. In fact, I was fairly certain the only
question that remained was the one night stand cliché: "Your
place or mine?"

It had been years since I’d had a one night stand, and

even  in  my  younger  days  I’d  only  had  a  few.  I  still  couldn’t
quite get my head around the fact that I was well on my way
to  having  one  tonight,  but  I  was  strangely  at  ease  with  the
idea.  I  could  have  sworn  there  was  usually  an  angel  on  my
shoulder  to  remind  me  of  all  the  reasons  I  shouldn’t  do
something like this, but that voice was unusually silent.

Liam’s smile flickered through my mind and my mouth

watered  at  the  thought  of  kissing  him.  Kissing  him
everywhere.  A  shudder  ran  up  my  spine  and  I  realized  that
the  angel  on  my  shoulder  was  silent  because  my  too-long-
neglected libido currently had it in a chokehold.

"Hey stranger."

I turned towards the sound of Liam’s voice and smiled.

His hands were stuffed into the pockets of a zipped-up black
leather jacket.

"Sorry I took so long," he said, dropping into a chair

beside me. He started to say something else, but jumped as

soon as he hit the chair. "Christ, couldn’t you have picked
the chairs with ice on them? These aren’t nearly cold
enough."

I laughed. "I didn’t think it was that cold."

"You’re also wearing jeans." He gestured at his tuxedo

pants and scowled. "These fuckers don’t do a damned bit of
good against the cold."

"We can go inside," I said. "I just thought it was a bit

quieter out here."

He craned his neck, looking into the coffee shop.

"Yeah, good point. I’d rather be cold than stuffed into a room
full of people. I get enough of that at work."

"You seem to enjoy your job, though."

He shrugged. "Beats the hell out of pushing a desk."

"Must be nice." I smirked. "I’m a bona fide desk

jockey. And believe me, I’ve considered taking up bartending
on more than one occasion."

"It’s a good job," he said. "I mean, if you don’t mind

breaking up the occasional fight, having drunks tell you their
life story fourteen times in a row, and every once in a while
having someone puke on you."

"Still better than some of the bullshit I put up with."

"You’d probably love it, then." He paused. "If nothing

else, you meet interesting people once in a while."

"Even if you have to chase them out so you can keep

talking to them?"

He chuckled. "If my boss hadn’t shown up, we’d still

be sitting there talking, believe me."

"Doesn’t like you talking to your customers?"

"Doesn’t like me flirting with the customers."

I shifted in my seat. "So you admit you were flirting?"

There was a devilish gleam in his eyes when he

grinned. "Was it working?"

"I’m here, aren’t I?"

"So you are." He leaned forward and put his hand on

my  knee.  The  warmth  of  his  touch  made  me  suck  in  a
breath. He looked at his hand, then at me. "I have a feeling
we’re  both  very  much  on  the  same  wavelength  right  now,
so…" His thumb traced the outside seam on my jeans. "Why
don’t we cut to the chase?"

The angel tried to scream something, but I could

almost hear my libido telling it to shut the fuck right up.
When Liam slowly ran his tongue along the inside of his
upper lip, the angel stopped protesting.

Tossing my empty coffee cup in a nearby trashcan, I

met Liam’s eyes. "So I guess there’s just one question."

He smiled. "Your place or mine?"

"Guess that depends on who lives closer."

He nodded down the street. "I’m about four blocks

that way."

"My apartment is on the other end of Broadway, near

Roanoke."

"My place it is, then." He stood, but hesitated.

"Assuming you’re cool with that?"

I pushed my chair back. "Unless you want to hike all

the way back down Broadway."

He snorted. "You walked from Roanoke on a night like

this?"

"A night like this?" I rolled my eyes. "It’s not that

cold."

"It’s freezing cold." He clicked his tongue. "Obviously

you were raised here if you’re immune to it."

We started down the sidewalk, hands in pockets, but

walking close enough together that our jacket sleeves
occasionally brushed.

"So I take it you’re not from this area?" I asked,

glancing at him.

He shook his head. "Born and raised in Phoenix."

"Shit, no wonder you’re a pussy when it comes to the

cold."

"Fuck you," he laughed. "It’s not my fault you Seattle

natives don’t know when you’re supposed to be cold." He
gestured wildly at the sky. "I mean, look at that. Clouds! It
could rain at any moment."

"It could rain at any moment anyway," I said. "It’s

Seattle. Nature of the beast." We exchanged amused glances
as we stopped at a cross street and waited for the light to
change.

"I don’t mind the rain so much," he said. "Beats the

hell out of the desert. It’s just the cold that gets me
sometimes." He looked at me. "I mean, I’m freezing my ass
off and you…" He elbowed me playfully, the brief contact

giving me goose bumps. "Your coat’s wide open and you’re
not even shivering."

The light changed and we walked across the

crosswalk. One block down. Three to go. The weather might
have been chilly that night, but my heart was pounding so
hard I couldn’t feel the cold.

"So I suppose you’ve never done the Polar Bear

Swim?" I asked with a smirk.

He gave me an incredulous look. "I haven’t, and I can

tell by the name that I definitely wouldn’t."

"Wuss." I chuckled.

"Are you telling me you’ve done it?"

I nodded. "My—" No, I’m not talking about Craig

tonight. "A friend and I did it a year or so ago. It’s fun. You
should try it."

"Are you out of your mind?" he laughed. "So what the

hell is it? Swim a couple of laps in a cold pool?"

"No," I said. "Jump into Puget Sound."

"Okay, I was right, that is insane."

"In January."

His jaw dropped. "My God, isn’t that water, like, forty

degrees?"

"Something like that." I shivered as we crossed the

next cross street. "It was fucking cold, though."

"I can only imagine." He shuddered. "Christ, that

makes me cold just thinking about it."

"You’re cold?" Before I could stop myself, I slid an arm

around his waist, drawing him a little closer. His leather
jacket creaked as he freed his hand from his own pocket and
did the same.

Then he stopped and turned to me, his face even

closer than I’d expected.

Swallowing hard, I whispered, "Still cold?"

He smiled. "A little." He moved closer to me, his very

presence forcing me to take a step back. Then another. And
another.

My shoulder blades just barely touched a wall, but I

gasped as if he’d slammed me up against it. For a moment,
we were still, just looking at each other in the icy glow of the
streetlights, our visible breath mingling in the narrow
distance between us.

If his touch hadn’t already given me an aching hard-

on, the palpable lust in his eyes would have. As his hips
leaned into mine, pinning me against the wall, his erection
pressed against my own.

My hands slid over his sleeves, the soft leather

creaking  as  I  grasped  his  arms  and  pulled  him  closer.  His
Adam’s  apple  bobbed  just  above  the  tightly  zipped  collar  of
his jacket and his hand moved to the side of my neck, then
into  my  hair.  I  touched  his  face,  the  cool,  coarse  texture  of
his stubbled jaw electric against my fingertips.

Even the cold wall behind me couldn’t temper the heat

of his body against me. Every intake of breath seemed to
draw us together until we were so close, he inhaled and the
air rushed past my lips, passing through the tiny sliver of
space that barely remained between us.

For half a heartbeat, our lips touched, just grazing

each  other,  then  again.  A  warm,  ragged  breath  whispered
across  my  chin  and  when  he  inhaled  again,  he  drew  me  to
him as if he’d breathed me in.

Our lips finally met full-on. We were still for a

moment, not breathing, not moving, simply letting the
contact be. The softness of his mouth and the coarseness of
his stubbled skin overwhelmed my senses. His fingers moved
in my hair, sending shivers down my spine.

Then his jaw moved beneath my hand. In the instant

his  tongue  touched  my  lips,  the  languid  slowness  gave  way
to breathless desperation. We grasped hair, sleeves, collars,
whatever  our  hands  could  find  as  we  hungrily  tasted  each
other’s  mouths.  Sharp  hisses  of  breath  punctuated  the
sounds of creaking leather and jeans scuffing against brick.

Liam abruptly broke the kiss, panting as he pulled

away. "Fuck," he whispered. "That’s…" He met my eyes, then
kissed me again. When he drew back this time, he brought
me with him, the sudden absence of the cold wall against my
back making me shiver.

"We’re almost to my place," he breathed. Glancing

down the road, he swallowed. "If we don’t go now…"

"Let’s go, then."
We reluctantly separated. The rest of the walk was

mostly silent. My teeth chattered from the cold and I kept
my hands buried in my pockets. At one point, I pulled them

Four

The anticipation drove me to the brink of madness,

and as we hurried up the deserted stairwell to his apartment,
I couldn’t wait anymore. On the second floor landing, I
grabbed his arm.

He stopped and turned. "What’s—"
I cut him off with a kiss, leaning him against the wall.

Caught  off  guard,  he  hesitated,  but  only  for  a  second.  His
arms went around me and he returned my kiss with as much
if not more ravenous need. With  my head spinning from his
masculine scent and the smell of leather from his jacket, all I
could think was that I had never been more desperate to get
close to someone.

I unzipped his jacket and slid my hands under it, both

of us gasping as nothing but thin fabric separated my skin
from his.

Struggling with the zipper on my own jacket, he

looked at me and said in a low, unsteady voice, "Fuck, I want
you so bad…"

I wetted my lips. "The feeling’s mutual." My jacket

separated and his hands snaked around my waist beneath it.
He kissed me again, my shirt bunching in his hands. He freed
my shirttail from my jeans, and the sizzling contact of his
fingertips on the small of my back almost knocked my knees
out from under me.

"Let’s go," he whispered, dipping his head to kiss the

side of my neck. "Now, or I’m going to fuck you right here
against this wall."

Breathless and shaking, I nodded, pulling away but

not bothering to tuck my shirt back in or zip my jacket. We

made it up the last two flights of stairs and down the hall to
his door.

"Here we are," he growled, putting an arm around my

waist. He slammed me up against his door so hard it almost
knocked  the  breath  out  of  me,  kissing  me  with  a  hungry
desperation that  intensified with each passing second. Metal
jingled  and  the  crunch  of  the  key  going  into  the  lock
reverberated up my spine. I felt, rather than heard, the click
of  the  turning  lock,  and  a  second  later  the  door  fell  open
behind me.

Momentary panic made my heart skip, but Liam’s arm

around  my  waist  kept  me  upright  as  we  stumbled  into  his
apartment.  He  managed  to  get  the  key  out  and  kicked  the
door  shut  behind  us.  Glancing  over  my  shoulder,  he  threw
his keys. They jingled, slid, then crunched again, presumably
on the kitchen floor.

"Fuck it, they can stay there," he said just before he

kissed  me  again.  We  kicked  shoes  off  and  pushed  jackets
over each other’s shoulders, letting them land wherever they
fell  as  we  worked  our  way  down  the  dark  hall.  In  the
bedroom, he flipped the light on and guided me towards the
bed.

Reaching behind him, he cursed against my lips, then

muttered something I didn’t understand. I broke the kiss and
looked down just in time to see the cummerbund loosen
around his waist. He tossed it aside.

Grasping the front of my shirt, he pulled me down

onto  the  bed  on  top  of  him.  For  the  longest  time,  we  just
kissed,  making  out  like  I  hadn’t  done  in  years.  We  made  a
few  feeble  attempts  to  loosen  and  remove  clothing,  but
didn’t  get  very  far.  What  we  both  wanted  was  simple,  but
clothing was complicated, so we didn’t bother.

I had never been wanted like this. This was pure, hot,

primal  lust.  No  emotional  bullshit  to  tangle  things  up  and
make  things  complicated.  No  mind  games.  No  trying  to  use
sex  to  communicate  something  deeper  or  find  some
connection  that  went  beyond  physical.  Just  two  men  who
wanted to fuck. Nothing more. Nothing less.

"Get that shirt off," he said.

I sat up. As I did, he grabbed one side of his bowtie

and tugged, the perfectly symmetrical bow disintegrating

into a single strand of black fabric, which he pulled free and
threw  aside.  We  both  struggled  to  unfasten  buttons  with
shaking  hands.  I  finally  opened  enough  on  my  shirt  that  I
could  just  pull  it  over  my  head.  It  joined  his  bowtie  on  the
floor as I turned my attention to helping Liam get out of his
clothes.

Pushing himself up on one arm, he kissed me as he

shrugged  the  tuxedo  shirt  off,  revealing  a  simple  white  T-
shirt  underneath.  I  lifted  his  T-shirt  for  him,  my  breath
catching  as  my  palms  met  his  skin  and  slid  up  his  abs  and
chest.

My fingertips brushed against something foreign.

Solid. As he pulled his shirt off, I looked down and realized
he had both nipples pierced, each adorned with a tiny gold
hoop.

"Now that’s unusual," I said with a grin.
He sucked in a breath as I circled his nipple with the

pad of my thumb.

I raised an eyebrow. "Like that?"

He nodded, closing his eyes. "That’s why I got them,

they’re—" Moaning softly, he let his head fall back. "Sensitive
as hell."

I bent and flicked my tongue across his other nipple.

The ragged breath he released told me he liked that, too, so
I closed my lips around it. Gently holding his nipple between
my teeth, I used the tip of my tongue to play with the
piercing.

His entire body jerked as if he’d been shocked. "Oh

my  God,"  he  whispered.  He  sank  to  the  bed  and  I  followed,
flicking  one  of  the  piercings  with  my  tongue  as  he  ran  his
fingers through my hair. Resting my weight on my forearm, I
let  my  other  hand  drift  over  his  abs  to  his  belt.  We  both
shivered  when  his  belt  buckle  jingled  free,  and  the  subtle
sound  of  his  zipper  made  the  hairs  on  the  back  of  my  neck
stand on end.

I kissed my way down the center of his chest and abs,

every  quiver  of  his  muscles  beneath  my  lips  making  my
breath  catch  and  my  cock  ache.  It  was  all  I  could  do  not  to
tell him to forget all of this foreplay, just fuck me now, but I
didn’t  want  to  rush  this.  If  his  kiss  was  that  good,  I  wanted
to feel everything he could do to me.

I wanted to touch him.
He raised his hips long enough for me to get his tux

pants over them.

I wanted to feel him.
He moaned as I gently stroked his cock.
I wanted to taste him.

"Oh God," he breathed as I ran my tongue up the

shaft of his cock. "Oh my God, Jon, that is so fucking good."

As I took his cock into my mouth, I slid my hand back

up his abs to his chest. When I found one of the nipple rings,
I played with it at the same speed my tongue moved.

His back arched. "Holy…oh my God…" Gently grasping

my hair, he lifted his hips, not forcing himself into my mouth
but  silently  telling  me  that  he  wanted  more.  I  gave  him
more,  deep-throating,  then  running  my  tongue  around  the
head  of  his  cock,  then  deep-throating  again,  all  the  while
playing with his nipple ring.

His fingers tightened in my hair. "Christ, you’re gonna

fucking make me come before I even—" He gasped, his body
tensing as his cock twitched in my mouth. "Jesus, if your
mouth feels this good…"

Then he gently pushed my head away.
"Fuck, I don’t want to come yet, and you’re…" He

shook his head, panting. "Any more of that and I’m going
to."

"You make that sound like a bad thing," I said, still

playing with his nipple ring and grinning as he took in a
sharp hiss of breath.

"Absolutely not." He pulled me down to him and kissed

me. "But I want to fuck you." Reaching between us, he
unbuckled my belt. "Why don’t we get the rest of these
clothes out of the way?"

We separated and quickly got out of our clothes.

Before  the  last  piece  of  clothing  even  hit  the  floor,  we  were
in  each  other’s  arms  again,  kissing  like  we’d  been  apart  for
months instead of just a few seconds.

When he wrapped his fingers around my cock, I could

barely remember how to breathe. The touch of his hand and
the taste of his mouth made me dizzy. Until that moment, I
hadn’t realized just how long it had been since I’d been with
a man, and how much I’d been craving a man’s touch.

He kissed my neck, my mouth, that deliciously

sensitive  spot  above  my  collarbone  that  no  one  else  ever
found.  Skin  brushed  skin  and  stubble  brushed  stubble,  the
kaleidoscope of gentle touches overwhelming my senses.

"Tell me you want me to fuck you," he whispered,

kissing the underside of my jaw. "Tell me." I didn’t know if it
just turned him on to hear me say it, or if he was really
looking for reassurance that I wanted him to, but the answer
was the same either way.

"I want you—" My voice caught when his hand

tightened around my cock. "I want you to fuck me."

He smiled and sat up, reaching for the drawer next to

the bed and pulling out a condom. It was then that I realized
his hands were shaking.

I grinned. "I thought bartenders always had steady

hands."

"We do." He paused to tear the condom wrapper with

his teeth. "But I’m not making a drink. I’m horny."

"So if I asked you to make me a drink right now—"

"Aside from ‘hell no’," he said as he rolled the condom

on and reached for the bottle of lube. "I’d tell you it’s going
to be shaken, not stirred."

I kissed him, playing with one of his nipple piercings.

"If you’re this turned on, don’t let me stop you from doing
something about it."

"Stop me?" he growled. "You’re the reason I am this

turned on." He started to kiss me, but gasped as I moved my
fingers to his other piercing. "Oh my God." Resting his
forehead against mine, he groaned. "Jesus, Jon, I’m so
fucking turned on right now, I might lose it before I even get
inside you."

"If you do, I’ll just have to fuck you instead."

He raised an eyebrow. "Well, in that case, maybe I

should just take care of it right now." Grinning at me, he
slowly stroked his cock.

I laughed and stopped his hand, gently grasping his

wrist. "Don’t even think about it."

"Then turn around so I can fuck you," he breathed.

But before I could, he kissed me again, parting my lips with
his tongue and making it damn near impossible for me to
even think of pulling away. Even though I desperately

wanted him inside me, I couldn’t get enough of his kiss.

He finally broke the kiss with a ragged breath. "Turn

around,"  he  said,  a  tremor  in  his  voice.  "Turn  the  fuck
around, I can’t wait." As soon as I did, his hands were on my
hips, and when the cool  lube touched my skin, I damn near
came just from knowing he was about to be inside me.

He moved slowly at first, giving me just the head of

his cock, before withdrawing and giving a little more. He
pushed in a little deeper, a little deeper…

Then, with one quick thrust, he was all the way inside

me.  My  vision  went  white  and  I  gasped,  my  entire  body
tensing  as  my  shaking  arms  threatened  to  collapse  under
me.  The  intensity,  the  sudden  shift  from  "too  long  without"
to "oh my God, there he is" was breathtaking.

Liam froze, holding my hips gently. "Are you okay?

Shit, I didn’t hurt you, did I?"

I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, couldn’t move.

"Jon?" His voice shook, and it wasn’t arousal this time.

"Jon, are you okay?" He started to pull out, but I grabbed his
wrist and leaned back to keep him from withdrawing.

"No, don’t," I breathed.

He stopped. "Am I hurting you? Talk to me, Jon."

"I’m fine," I said. "Just don’t…" I swallowed hard, a

shudder rippling up my spine.

His hand gently ran up and down my side. "Don’t

what?"

I took a breath. "Don’t stop."

"Are you sure? If I’m hurting you—"

"You’re not," I said. "Trust me, you’re not."

His hands returned to my hips. "Don’t scare me like

that."  His  tone  was  both  relieved  and  amused.  He  moved
slowly  at  first,  then  picked  up  speed.  "Are  you  sure  you’re
okay?"  He  sounded  like  he  was  speaking  through  his  teeth.
He was holding back, I was sure of it. "Are you okay?"

"God, yes," I moaned. "Oh my God, yes…"

"Tell me how you like it," he said, almost panting now.

"Tell me how you fucking want it, Jon."

"I—" I couldn’t think with what he was doing. His cock

just felt too damned good. Choking on my own voice, I
finally managed, "Harder."

His fingers tightened on my hips, but he hesitated.

"Are you sure?"

I nodded. "Please."

He withdrew slowly, even slower than he had before,

then slammed into me so hard it almost hurt. Maybe it did
hurt. In fact, it probably did, but it was so intense, I couldn’t
tell pain from pleasure, because it was all pleasure.

He groaned and his rhythm faltered momentarily.

"Fuck, I knew you’d feel incredible, but…Jesus…"

"You’re gonna make me come," I moaned, grasping

the bedcovers just to keep me anchored in reality.

"No, don’t come," he said breathlessly. "Please, don’t

come yet. I still want to feel your cock in me."

"If you keep fucking me like that, I’m not…oh, fuck…" I

moaned again, shuddering, but forced myself to hold back. I
couldn’t come yet. Not now. Not—

"Oh God," he growled. "Oh God, I can’t…I’m

gonna…fuck!"  Even  as  he  came,  as  his  fingers  dug  painfully
into  my  hips  and  his  body  shook,  he  managed  a  few  last
strokes before he exhaled heavily and stopped.

For a moment, neither of us moved while he caught

his breath and I brought myself back down to Earth. Another
thrust or two, and I’d have come with him, but I hadn’t yet.

He pulled out slowly. "I didn’t make you come yet, did

I?"

"Not yet," I said, turning around as he saw to the

condom.

"Good." He grinned and tossed an unopened condom

to me. "I’ll make you come any which way you want, but I
have got to feel you fuck me."

My face burned a little as I tore the wrapper with my

teeth.  It  was  surreal,  being  with  someone  who  wanted  me
like  this,  as  if  he  wasn’t  just  looking  to  get  off  and  be  done
with  it.  I’d  always  wanted  to  be  with  someone  who  actually
enjoyed  everything  leading  up  to  the  orgasm—even  mine,
not  just  his  own—rather  than  just  treating  it  all  as  a  means
to an end.

"What’s wrong?" he asked.

I looked up. He cocked his head at me, raising an

eyebrow. I cleared my throat and went about putting the
condom on. "Nothing, nothing."

"You sure?" He joined me on the bed, kissing my neck

as I rolled the condom into place. "You spaced out there for
a second."

"I’m fine," I said, touching his face and bringing him

up to kiss me. "Just trying to keep myself from coming
before I even fuck you."

He smiled into my kiss. "Did I turn you on that much?

Terribly sorry."

"You should be. Dirty bastard."

His hand snaked around the back of my neck. "The

world  is  full  of  dirty  bastards,  and  I  am  their  king."  He
reached past me and picked up the bottle of lube. He poured
a  little  into  his  hand,  set  the  bottle  aside,  and  kissed  me
while he stroked the lube onto my cock.

Even through the condom, his hand drove me wild. I

had to fuck him now or I was going to lose my mind. "I want
you on your back," I said.

He blinked. "On my back?"

I nodded.

Then he grinned. "Thank God."

"Why?"

"Because my arms and legs are still shaking," he said,

lying back. "Don’t think I could hold myself up."

I joined him, flicking one of his piercings with my

tongue. "Then at least I know you won’t try to get away," I
laughed.

"Get away? Why the fuck would I want to get away?"

"Don’t know." I sat up and ran my fingertips along his

inner thigh. "But now you won’t."

He shivered. "You’re damn right about—" His voice

caught as I slowly pushed into him. "Oh God…" He closed his
eyes, his lips parting as he took in a long, shuddering breath.

"Oh, wow, you feel amazing," I moaned. Still sitting

up,  I  moved  slowly  inside  him,  taking  long,  deep  strokes.
Something in the back of my mind told me to fuck him hard
and  fast,  to  hurry  up  and  come,  but  I  just  couldn’t  get
enough  of  him  this  way.  Just  a  little  bit  more,  I  silently
begged him. Don’t rush me yet, you feel too damned good. I
bit  my  lip,  closing  my  eyes  and  savoring  the  way  he  felt,
knowing  I  could  only  do  this  for  so  long  before  he’d  get
impatient. He’d gotten his, there was no need for me to take
forever getting mine.

His hands closed around my hips and I swallowed

hard, knowing what was coming.

"Oh God," he whispered. "Jon, that feels so fucking

good…"

My eyes flew open. "It does?"

He looked at me, his expression a mixture of puzzled

and aroused. "Christ, yes, why wouldn’t it?"

"I—" He’s not Craig, idiot. "You like it like this?"

"Do I ever." He wet his lips and closed his eyes,

releasing a low groan. "My God, I could let you do that all
goddamned night."

Watching him in disbelief, I continued my slow

rhythm, still half-expecting him to tell me to get on with it.
But he didn’t. His hands rested on my hips, but didn’t try to
hinder or hasten my movements.

He opened his eyes and reached up to put his hand on

the side of my neck. Pulling me down gently, he whispered,
"Come here." He met me halfway, sitting up just long
enough for us to come together in a deep, hungry kiss before
we both landed softly on the bed.

I was completely lost in him, our bodies moving

together with the kind perfect fluidity that two total strangers
had no business even imagining. Whenever something in my
mind made me think that, sooner or later, he would tell me
to  just  get  on  with  it,  Liam  would  do  something  to  counter
those  uncertainties.  A  well-timed  kiss.  Closing  his  eyes  and
moaning.  A  twitch  of  his  fingers  in  my  hair.  Each  time,  my
doubts  receded  and  my  desire  for  him  grew,  until  my  need
for release became too much to ignore.

I moved faster now, until strokes became thrusts and

kisses  became  desperate  gasps  for  breath.  There  was  no
holding  back  anymore,  no  drawing  it  out  and  keeping  an
orgasm  at  bay  for  want  of  just  a  few  more  seconds of  the
intensity of being inside him.

"I know you’re close, Jon," he whispered, kissing my

neck as I threw my head back. "Let go. I want you to come."

"Oh, my God," I heard myself groan. "Oh, God, I’m—"

I gasped when his fingertips trailed up my back. His touch
was so light I barely felt it, but the effect was like a lit match
to gasoline.

I slammed into him as deep and hard as I could and

shuddered  against  him.  "Oh…fuck…"  I  collapsed  over  him,
catching  myself  on  my  forearms.  Then  he  put  his  arms
around  me  and  pulled  me  down  the  rest  of  the  way,  letting
me rest my head on his shoulder until it all subsided.

"The minute you walked into Wilde’s tonight," he

whispered, stroking my hair gently. "I was sure you would be
hot as hell in bed."

"I hope I didn’t disappoint," I slurred.

"Absolutely not."

Five

When I could finally sit up without the room shifting

around me, I got rid of the condom and rejoined Liam in bed.
We slid under the covers, facing each other on our sides.

"So do you make a habit of taking customers home?" I

asked with a grin.

He laughed. "Only the ones that tip well."

"I didn’t tip you at all. You bought all of my drinks."

"Didn’t say it had to be in monetary form." He winked.

"So you are a mind reader." I trailed a fingertip over

one of his piercings. "I mean, if you knew a couple of drinks
would be enough to woo me into bed."

"More of a gambler." He closed his eyes and shivered

as I played with the piercing. "I figured the odds were in my
favor, but you never know."

"I take it you play that game a lot, if your boss is

catching on?"

Gesturing dismissively, he smirked. "Nah, he doesn’t

really  care  if  I  flirt  with  customers.  He  does  it  too.  Tonight,
he  was  giving  me  an  earful  about  some  other  bullshit."  He
rested his hand on my arm.

"Let me guess," I said. "Chewing your ass for the way

all the people below you are unmotivated, and slacking off,
and all of that crap?"

He blinked. "What the fuck did you do? Put a glass

against the door and listen in?"

"I have my ways."

"You’re good at this. How did you know?"

"I figured you had some seniority," I said. "And you

didn’t look too thrilled when you came back out."

He nodded. "Yep, I’m the shift manager. All those lazy

bastards work for me, so when they screw up, I get to hear
about it." He rolled his eyes. "I love that job, but I can’t—
wait, how the hell did you know I had seniority?"

I ran my fingertips over his unshaven jaw. "The ‘I

don’t feel like shaving’ look and the rolled-up sleeves in a
joint like that."

Liam chuckled. "Funny, those were two of the things

he  was  busting  my  balls  about."  He  scratched  his  chin,
letting  his  fingernails  scuff  loudly  across  the  coarse  stubble.
"I  figure  if  he  keeps  getting  his  nose  out  of  joint  over  my
sleeves  and  shaving  habits,  he  won’t  notice  all  of  the  other
things I do."

"Such as?"

"Customers."

We both burst out laughing.

"So," I said. "This is something you’ve done before?"

He shrugged. "On occasion. But I haven’t been single

very long, so it’s been a while since I’ve done anything more
than flirt, which I always do. I flirt for the same reason
female bartenders flirt with guys in straight bars."

"Better tips?"

"Damn right."

"Does it work?"

"Like a charm."

I lifted my head and kissed him lightly. "So in this

case, are we talking about monetary tips, or the other kind?"

He touched my face, letting another kiss linger for a

moment before he said, "Usually monetary, but I’m not
going to bitch about this kind of tip once in a while."

I kissed him again, then let my head fall back onto the

pillow. "Well, I don’t usually do this at all, so…" I trailed off,
laughing self-consciously.

As his fingers trailed down the side of my face to my

neck, his smile fell a little. "Let me ask you something."

"Go for it."
"When we were—" He paused, his cheeks darkening as

if he was suddenly embarrassed. Clearing his throat, he said,
"Earlier, when we…"

"Were fucking?"
"Yeah." He laughed. This shy side of him was a

surprise,  considering  how  shameless  he’d  been  all  night.
"When  you  were  going  slow,  and  I  said  I  liked  it,  you
seemed…"  He  chewed  his  lip.  "Like  you  didn’t  expect  me  to
like it."

My face was probably the same color as his by then. I

watched my fingers play with the corner of the pillowcase. "I
didn’t, to be honest."

"Why wouldn’t I have liked it?"
I met his eyes and swallowed hard. "It wasn’t so much

that  I  figured  you  wouldn’t  like  it,  or  I  wouldn’t  have  done
it."  I  took  a  breath. "I  just  didn’t  think  you’d  like  me  taking
my  time  like  that.  You  know,  like  it  was  okay  for  a  few
minutes, then, get on with it."

His eyes widened. "Are you kidding?"
"It’s what I’m used to."
"What?" he scoffed. "What kind of Neanderthals have

you been with?"

I laughed, avoiding his eyes. "Obviously not the right

ones."

"Your ex, I take it?"
"Yep," I said. "He was all about foreplay, all about,

well, everything. Until he got off. Once he was done, he
wanted me to be done, too."

"Selfish son of a bitch," Liam muttered. He trailed a

single finger down the center of my chest, raising goose
bumps all over me. "Especially since anything after the first
orgasm is going to take some time."

I raised my eyebrows. "Pardon?"
He blinked. "What?"
"Anything after a first orgasm?"
"Yeah, you know—" He paused, his jaw dropping. Then

he rolled his eyes again. "Christ on a bike, don’t tell me he
never gave you more than one."

"In the beginning, maybe," I said with a shrug. "But

by the time we’d been together for a few months…" I shook
my head.

Liam moved closer to me, his hand sliding over my

waist and drifting up and down my back. "My ex and I were
like that in the beginning too."

"So it tapered off for you, too?"
"Well, if by ‘tapered off’ you mean we went months at

a time with no sex at all, yes."

"Really?"
He nodded. "I thought we just had very, very different

sex drives. Was red hot in the beginning, then we’d go ages
without touching." He rubbed the back of his neck and put
his hand on my waist again, running his thumb lightly across
my skin. "Turns out we had the same sex drive, he just
found what he wanted elsewhere."

"Ouch. That’s the guy who just left?"
He nodded. "Yeah. And I didn’t have a clue until after

he’d gone. Fortunately, he made sure to get blood tests
every time he found a new boyfriend-on-the-side, so at least
I know we’re both clean."

"A responsible cheater, how nice." I rolled my eyes.
"Tell me about it." He watched his fingers drift up and

down my arm. "But, enough about that bullshit." He smiled,
and it reminded me of the look he gave me when I’d first laid
eyes on him at Wilde’s. "I wasn’t about to get impatient with
you while you were fucking me of all things."

"So I noticed. I guess I’m just not used to not being in

a hurry to get mine."

"No hurry with me. I don’t have to be at work until

noon, so we have plenty of time."

"Careful what you wish for," I said. "Unless you want

to show up at work after not sleeping all night."

He grinned and kissed me. "Sex isn’t worth having if it

doesn’t occasionally make you stumble into work the next
morning with dark circles under your eyes."

I laughed. "Can’t say I’ve done that in a while."
"You’re missing out." He kissed me again, lightly this

time.

Running my fingers through his hair, I said, "I was

missing out."

His hand drifted down my side, pausing on my hip.

Just the nearness of his hand to my cock sent ripples of
electricity up my spine.

"Do you have to work tomorrow?" he asked.
"No."
"Then at least I won’t have to worry about getting you

fired." His fingers closed around my cock and he stroked it
slowly.

"Oh my God," I moaned. It had been ages since I’d

been this aroused so quickly after an orgasm, and I’d
forgotten just how much more intense it could be the second
time around.

"Like that?" he whispered, kissing my neck.

"Yes, I do."
"So you won’t object to a second orgasm tonight?"
I shivered. "Not in the least."
He kissed my jaw and stroked just a little harder.

"Maybe I can even talk you into a third."

"You won’t have to twist my arm," I said.
He found that spot above my collarbone again and I

bit my lip when he flicked his tongue across it. His lips
brushed my skin when he said, "There’s one more thing you
should know, though."

"Hmm?"
He kissed my mouth again. "Remember earlier, when I

said I could let you fuck me like that all goddamned night?"
He stroked a little faster. Just before his lips met mine, he
whispered, "I wasn’t kidding."

Six

A muffled, terse voice brought me out of a sound

sleep.

Sitting up, I blinked a few times, looking around my

unfamiliar  surroundings.  The  room  was  completely  alien,
from  the  sparse  décor  and  stack  of  cardboard  boxes  to  the
view of Puget Sound out the window.

I was also alone.

A moment later, Liam’s voice again registered in my

confused senses, sparking a few half-asleep synapses to life.
Ah, that’s where I am. Liam’s apartment.

I looked around again, my mind filling in the gaps. It

was  the  daylight  pouring  in  through  the  window  that  had
made  my  surroundings  look  different.  Instead  of  the  soft,
amber  glow  of  the  lamp  on  the  dresser,  sunlight  spilled
across the room, casting harsh shadows beside furniture and
discarded clothing.

But where was Liam?

His voice came from the other room, the volume

increasing and decreasing steadily, as if he was moving
towards and away from the bedroom door.

"I'm not going to fucking argue about it with you

again," he snarled as he came closer to the door. "I told you,
I  have  to  work  today…"  The  volume  diminished.  A  moment
later,  his  voice  was  softer,  but  he  was  near  enough  that  I
could  make  out, "Travis,  please,  just…okay,  okay,  just  calm
down, I’ll…" And he was once again out of earshot.

I lay back, one hand behind my head on the pillow,

and looked up at the ceiling. My mind wandered back to the
night before. There wasn’t a muscle in my body that didn’t

ache,

and

the

angel

shoulder

was

still

uncharacteristically quiet. It seemed like a lifetime ago that I
was standing in my living room listening to Craig tell me he
was getting married.

That conversation replayed itself in my head, and my

heart sank as reality made its presence known. This one
night stand with Liam wasn’t going to magically get me over
Craig, nor was it going to make it easy to be his best man. It
was fun, it was hot, but it was just a distraction. A temporary
fix.

"…not going to fight about this again. We’ve talked

about this, and…" Liam’s voice faded. He must have been
pacing.

Whatever was going on in his life—with his ex, I

assumed—didn’t sound pretty. In a way I suppose that gave
me a sense of relief; if he was as emotionally unavailable as
I was, then he wouldn’t have any illusions about this going
beyond a one night stand.

Recalling the night before, though, I had to admit that

I  would  have  jumped  at  the  opportunity  to  spend  another
night  with  him.  I  couldn’t  remember  the  last  time  I’d  been
with  someone  so  incredible.  And  insatiable.  He’d  made  me
insatiable.  Every  time  I’d  thought  I  was  spent  and  satisfied,
he’d found a way to make me want him all over again.

It was truly the first time in my life that I’d slept with

someone like that, fucking well into the night until both of us
collapsed, completely exhausted, at the same time. I
shivered. Craig who?

Something clicked in the other room—a cell phone

snapping  shut,  I  guessed—and  Liam  muttered  something
just  before  the  bedroom  door  opened.  He  came  in,  dressed
only  in  a  black  pair  of  boxers,  and  set  his  phone  on  the
dresser.  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  his  knitted  brow  and  thin,
tight  lips  just  before  he  turned  to  shut  the  door.  When  he
turned around again, his expression brightened.

"You’re awake," he said, smiling. Then his eyebrows

jumped. "I didn’t wake you, did I?"

I shook my head. "No, don’t worry about it."

He half-smiled and rejoined me in bed, propping

himself up on one elbow as he ran his fingers across my
chest. "I forgot to turn my phone off last night. It woke me

up, so I was afraid it—"

"It didn’t." I put my hand over his.

"Good." He kissed me lightly, then let it linger for a

moment. "At least now we don’t have to worry about
sleeping late and rushing out the door."

"What time is it, anyway?" I glanced around for a

clock.

He looked over his shoulder. "A little after nine. I have

to be at work by noon, but until then…" He kissed me again.
"I’m all yours."

"What ever will I do with you?" I murmured against

his lips as I put my arms around him.

"Hmm." He paused to kiss me. "Maybe everything you

did to me last night?"

I groaned, then laughed. "Christ, if I tried to do all

that again, I think I’d have heart failure."

"Me too." He kissed his way down my neck. "But I

could think of worse ways to go."

"Such as?"

"Dying while not having sex." He flicked his tongue

across the spot above my collarbone, making me shiver.
Grinning against my skin, he said, "Sensitive, are we?"

"Right there, yes." I sucked in a breath through my

teeth as he did it again.

"That’s not the only place. I seem to recall finding a

few others last night." He nuzzled my neck and kissed below
my ear, laughing softly when I shivered again. Whispering in
my ear, he said, "I’ll bet I could find every last one of those
sensitive places again."

"Don’t let me stop you." I exhaled as his hand drifted

down my side.

"Do tell me if you want me to stop." He kissed my

collarbone again.

"Don’t think that’ll be a problem," I breathed.

It wasn’t a problem, and he definitely found every last

sensitive place again. Before long, we were breathless,
sweaty, and exhausted, just like we’d been right before we
went to sleep.

Eventually, we each threw on a pair of jeans and made

it out of the bedroom.

His living room was as sparse as his bedroom, but

judging by the cardboard boxes in both rooms, he was in the
process of moving either in or out. Or it was all waiting for
his ex to come and get it.

"I started the coffee while I was up earlier," he said

over his shoulder as we wandered into the kitchen.

"I could kiss you for that," I said.

He winked. "You can kiss me anyway."

"Depends on what kind of coffee you throw my way."

He frowned. "I’m probably out of luck, then. It’s just

normal, run-of-the-mill, grocery store coffee."

I turned my nose up. "I thought they’d outlawed that

swill in this city."

"Coffee snob." He chuckled.

Clicking my tongue, I rolled my eyes. "Well, I suppose

I can slum it, just this once."

He laughed and poured a cup for each of us. "Guess I

can’t really hold it against you if you’re a coffee snob.
Working at Wilde’s has turned me into a liquor snob of
shameful proportions."

"Oh really?"

Handing me my coffee, he nodded towards one of the

cabinets  below  the  counter.  With  his  foot,  he  opened  the
cabinet  door,  revealing  a  very,  very  well-stocked  cache  of
various  kinds  of  booze.  It  definitely  wasn’t  the  cheap  stuff:
Cuervo  Reservo.  Tanqueray  Silver.  Wild  Turkey.  Remy
Martin.

"You aren’t kidding." I whistled. "My seven dollar cups

of coffee suddenly don’t seem all that bad."

He laughed. "Yeah, but a hundred dollar bottle of

cognac is going to last me a hell of a lot longer than that cup
of coffee."

"Touché." I smirked and raised my coffee cup as if

toasting him. "You must throw a hell of a party."

"Please," he said as he sipped his coffee. "This stuff is

for my own private enjoyment."

"Not the party type?"

He set his cup down and came towards me, putting a

hand on my hip. "I prefer," he said, running his hand up my
side. "Quieter forms of entertainment."

Setting my cup beside me, I slid an arm around his

waist. Barely whispering, I said, "You should have told me, I

would have been quieter."

He leaned forward and kissed the side of my neck as

his arms went around me. "If you’d been quieter-" He
paused to kiss below my ear. "I would have just fucked you
harder."

I shivered. "Then maybe I should have been quieter."

His soft laughter thrummed against my skin as his

stubbled jaw brushed mine. Looking me in the eye, he said,
"I don’t think you could have stayed quiet."

I ran the pad of my thumb across one of his nipple

piercings, grinning as he closed his eyes and drew in a
breath. "That sounds like a challenge."

"And what if it is?"

"Then let’s see you put your money where your mouth

is."

Seven

"You sure you don’t want me to give you a ride

home?" Liam asked as we stepped out of his apartment into
the crisp late morning air.

"Don’t worry about it, I’ll be fine."

He grinned. "You sure you can walk that far?"

My legs ached, as did every other muscle in my

damned body, but I nodded anyway. "I’ll manage."

"Suit yourself."

"You’re walking, too," I said.

"Yeah, but I don’t have nearly as far to walk."

"And you have to be on your feet all day, whereas I

can go spend the rest of the afternoon on my couch with a
book."

"Lucky bastard," he muttered, giving me a playful

glare. He opened his mouth to say something else, but his
cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and rolled his
eyes. "Oh for fuck’s sake."

"Ex?"

He nodded and flipped the phone open. "Travis,

what—" Abruptly, he stopped walking, his lips twisting into a
scowl  as  his  brow  furrowed.  "Listen  to  me,  we’ve  been
through  this.  For  the  last  goddamned  time,  next  Saturday.
No,  not  this  coming  Saturday,  the  next  one.  Just  like  I
explained—"  He  paused,  tightening  his  jaw.  "No,  that’s  my
final  offer."  Then  he  rolled  his  eyes  again  and  snapped  the
phone  shut.  "Persistent  fucker."  He  laughed  half-heartedly.
Shivering,  he  pulled  his  jacket  around  him  as  if  a  cold  wind
had suddenly blown by, but I didn’t feel a thing.

"Trying to come get his stuff?"

He nodded. "I swear, he just wants to make it as

much of a pain for me as he can. Always picks times that are
right in the middle of my damned shifts."

I laughed. "I think I’d put his shit in boxes and leave it

on the sidewalk at this point."

"I’ve thought about it, believe me." He shivered again.

Then he shrugged. "But, anyway, enough about that bastard.
Exes are in the past for a reason."

"Isn’t that the truth," I said. We walked on, shooting

the breeze about anything we could think of besides the one
question that pulsed in the back of my mind like a buzzing
neon sign. Am I going to see you again?

We stopped on the sidewalk not far from the entrance

to  Wilde’s.  The  conversation  halted  and  we  avoided  each
other’s  eyes.  I  was  tempted  to  ask  for  his  number  or  offer
my own, but wasn’t completely up to speed on etiquette for
the morning after a one night stand.

He looked at the pavement, pursing his lips as if trying

to find the words. The words to say what, I didn’t know,
because I was at a loss, too.

Finally, he touched my face and kissed me gently. "I

should go." Then he smiled. "I had a great time."

"Pleasure was all mine," I said, ignoring the

disappointment that slowly sank in my gut.

"Oh no, it wasn’t." He kissed me again, drawing it out

this  time.  When  he  broke  the  kiss,  he  kept  his  hand  on  my
face  a  moment  longer  before  breaking  that  contact  too.
Clearing  his  throat,  he  glanced  at  the  club,  then  looked  at
me. "I should get to work."

After another minute or so of awkward, compulsory

small talk, he headed towards the club and I started down
the road towards my apartment.

So that was it, then. We were going our separate

ways. No phone numbers exchanged, no promises—empty or
otherwise—to see each other again. We really were two ships
passing in the night, two newly single men who just needed
a night together so we could move on alone. I didn’t regret
it—I didn’t think I regretted it—but couldn’t deny that I was
sad to see him go.

I paused and looked over my shoulder, but he was

gone, sunlight rippling across the tinted glass door as it

closed behind him.

Taking a deep breath, I continued down Broadway

alone. In spite of my fatigued muscles, I was thankful for the
walk. Walking gave me time to think, and I had plenty to
think about.

Specifically, whether or not I regretted last night.

If only for a few hours, the dark cloud had lifted and I

was over Craig. But now, as I got farther from Liam and
closer to my empty apartment, the clouds were gathering
again.

My stomach seemed to get heavier with every step.

Maybe a one night stand was a bad idea. As hot as it was, I
wasn’t  so  sure  it  was  worth  this  feeling  of  reopening  a
healing  wound  the  next  morning.  Craig’s  absence  had  hurt
for  so  long,  I  was  almost  numb  to  it.  Escaping  it  for  a  few
hours  simply  made  me  more  acutely  aware  of  it  when  it
came back.

Maybe I just needed to let myself heal completely

from Craig before I got involved—however temporarily—with
anyone else.

As the next two weeks wore on, I settled back into my

routine of wishing I was still with Craig, but try as I might, I
couldn’t get Liam out of my mind either. In fact, with each
passing day, it was Liam on my mind more than Craig.

I usually spent the last hour or two of an evening

reading,  but  ever  since  that  night  with  Liam,  all  I  did  was
stare  at  the  page  and  think  of  him.  My  eyes  scanned  the
words  and  my  fingers  turned  the  pages  out  of  habit,  but
nothing registered. A few times, I stopped, realized I hadn’t
been  reading  the  words  at  all,  and  had  to  flip  back  until  I
figured out where I’d stopped paying attention.

Eventually, I gave up and turned on the television just

for some noise and something to focus my eyes on, even if
my mind was elsewhere.

Liam.

Craig.

Liam.

Craig.

Christ, you’re pathetic. Pining over a one night stand

and the one that got away.

By the time Friday night rolled around, it was all I

Eight

The engagement party was supposed to be a barbecue

at Craig and Rebecca’s house, but naturally, being Seattle, it
rained. Undeterred by the weather, they moved the party
indoors and kept the grill going on the covered patio.

I mingled with some of our mutual friends, carefully

dodging  questions  about  what  I  was  doing  these  days,
knowing  full  well  they  were  really  asking  who  I  was  doing.
The patronizing and thinly-veiled pity set my teeth on edge,
but  I  just  smiled.  I’m  sure  they  knew  I  wasn’t  over  Craig.
They  didn’t  need  to  know  that  there  was  a  new  face  on  the
mental  list  of  "people  I  want,  but  can’t  have"  that  kept
running through my brain.

"Glad you came," Craig said, pulling me aside in the

kitchen. "How have you been?"

I shrugged. "Fine."

"Want a beer?"

"Sure, thanks."
He handed me one and opened his own. "So, have you

been out? Seen anyone?"

I rolled my eyes. "Craig, honestly, do we have—"

"I’m just concerned about you, that’s all."

"Fine," I said. "Yes, I have been out. And yes, I did

meet someone. And yes, you were right, it was exactly what
I needed." Because now I have someone else to get hung up
on in between being hung up on you. Thanks, jackass.

His eyes widened slightly. If I hadn’t known better, I’d

have sworn he was hurt. Jealous, even. The expression
quickly faded and he smiled. "Well, good," he said. "I’m glad
to hear you aren’t moping around at home."

I started to speak, but as I glanced over Craig’s

shoulder, Rebecca walked into the kitchen. Her mood visibly
soured when she saw us. She came across the room and slid
a  hand  around  his  arm,  laying  the  other  on  the  front  of  his
shoulder,  making  sure  her  engagement  ring  was  visible.
Back off my territory, her glare said. She looked at me—no,
eyed me—and forced a smile.

"Hello, Jon. Nice to see you."

"Good to see you, too, Rebecca," I said. "And

congratulations."

"Thank

you."

Her

eyebrows

pulled

together,

contradicting the well-practiced smile. By this point, I should
have  been  used  to  her  uneasiness  around  me,  but  it  still
annoyed  me.  Even  as  the  three  of  us  made  small  talk  and
casual conversation, she regarded me warily.

I wasn’t sure if my presence bothered her because I

was Craig’s ex, or because I was a constant reminder that he
was  bisexual.  Whatever  the  case,  I  made  her  nervous.
Christ, you have his ring, what more do you want? You don’t
have  to  hold  onto  him,  you  have  him.  I  sipped  my  drink  as
they  wandered  off  to  visit  with  their  other  guests.  She  shot
me a glare over her shoulder and I sighed. Just be grateful,
Rebecca, that you don’t have to let go of him.

I took and released a deep breath, then went about

mingling  with  the  other  guests  again.  About  the  time  I’d
managed  to  forget  about  my  terse,  silent  exchange  with
Rebecca,  I  went  back  into  the  mostly  empty  kitchen  for
another beer. A moment later, she appeared in the doorway.

"Jon, can I borrow you for a minute?" Her eyes

narrowed slightly.

This should be good. I sipped my beer and shrugged.

"Sure, what’s up?"

With a sharp nod, she indicated the sliding glass door,

then started in that direction. I followed.

Now that the grills had cooled, everyone else had

retreated back inside, so the covered patio was deserted
except for us and silent except for the percussion of the rain.

Rebecca folded her arms tightly across her chest, a

gesture that I might have blamed on the chilly wind had it
not been for the way her lips twisted into a scowl. That look
used to make me uneasy, but I’d long since developed an

immunity to it.

She took a deep breath, let it out, then squared her

jaw and looked me in the eye. "Since Craig’s asked you to be
the best man," she said through her teeth. "There are a few
things I want to make sure we have straight." She paused,
grimacing. "I mean, that we have—"

I laughed. "It’s okay, I know what you meant."

The scowl returned. "Look, my family doesn’t know

about your…" She chewed her lip. "Your history with Craig.
They don’t know about his history."

Annoyance coiled in my gut. "Did you think I was

going to announce it at the wedding?"

She shifted her weight. It seemed to take a lot of

effort to maintain eye contact, but she managed. "I would
hope not."

"Then why bring it up?" It came out sharper than I

intended. I set my beer down and wrung my hands, avoiding
the temptation to fold my arms as she had. One of us on the
defensive  was  more  than  enough.  "Rebecca,  I  wouldn’t  do
that.  I’m  not  going  to  come  to  your  wedding  and  announce
myself  as  Craig’s  ex-boyfriend.  As  far  as  anyone  there  is
concerned,  he  and  I  are  friends."  Narrowing  my  eyes,  I
added, "Because that’s what we are."

She flinched, looking away momentarily. "Thank you."

She ran a hand through her hair before she folded her arms
again. "Has Craig let you know everything else you’ll be
asked to do as best man?"

I shrugged. "I’ve done it before. I know the routine."

"Just don’t let him put the tux fittings off until the last

minute. I know he will."

"I won’t."

She nodded. We stood in silence for a moment. She

dropped her gaze, chewing her lower lip again. Something
unspoken hung in the air.

"Is that," I paused. "Is that all you wanted to talk

about?"

Her brow furrowed, but she said nothing. The intricate

brickwork beneath our feet seemed to fascinate her for a
long moment.

"Rebecca—"
"The bachelor party," she said, suddenly meeting my

eyes with an intense, stoic look.

"Oh." I shifted. "Um, what about it?"

The scowl suddenly didn’t seem as solid, as if it was

only a mask to keep me from seeing how nervous she was.
Taking a breath, she said, "What exactly are you planning to
do for his bachelor party?"

"I haven’t made any plans yet," I said with another

shrug. "Probably the usual. You know, booze, strippers, a
groom so hungover he swears off drinking for the rest of his
life."

At that, she allowed herself a soft laugh as she

dropped her gaze, as if she didn’t want me to see the vague
hint  of  humor  that  tried  to  break  through.  Then  the
nervousness  returned,  but  the  hostility  had  diminished
slightly. "About the strippers…"

"Look, if you don’t want him to—"

"What kind of strippers?"

I swallowed. "Um, what do you mean?"

"Male or female?"

"Ahh," I said. "So that’s what this is about."

She fidgeted and once again, the scowl returned. "I

just want to know."

I watched her quietly for a moment. "I get the feeling

there isn’t a right answer to this."

The bricks again had her attention.

"Rebecca, if you’re not comfortable with me taking

him to a strip club, then I won’t."

"It’s not that." She hugged herself tighter. "I’m just…"

She let out a frustrated breath. "With his past, and yours…"

"You know, most brides would be more concerned

about their groom going to see female strippers."

"Most brides aren’t marrying bisexual men," she

snapped. "And most brides don’t have their husband’s
fucking ex-boyfriend taking him out to—"

I put my hands up defensively. "Rebecca, I get it." We

looked at each other, the hostility back with a vengeance. So
this isn’t about the bachelor party at all, is it? After a
moment, I said, as calmly as I could, "This is no less
awkward for me than it is for you."

"Somehow I doubt that."
"Look, have you ever dated someone who was still

friends with an ex-girlfriend?"

She gave a stiff shrug. "Sure."

"And did those exes bother you the way I do?"

She hesitated. "No."

"Then why does my relationship with him bother you

so much? The only difference between what I had with Craig
and what any other girl ever had with any of your other exes
is the fact that I’m a man."

"I know," she said. "And that’s…"

I gritted my teeth. "That’s what bothers you?"

"Why wouldn’t it?"

"Why should it?" I snapped.

"Because I’ve seen the way you look at him," she

growled through clenched teeth.

My heart skipped. So I was wrong. This wasn’t about

the bachelor party or Craig’s bisexuality at all. This was
about Craig and me. I let out a breath. "You’re right. You’re
absolutely right."

She blinked, startled.

I went on. "What do you want me to say?" I shrugged.

"It hurt when he left, and it still hurts."

Her eyes widened, her expression a mix of shock,

anger, and confusion.

My voice gentler now, I continued. "Look, Rebecca, I

know it’s unusual, but you’re worrying about nothing. Craig’s
bisexual, but that doesn’t mean he’s unfaithful, and I’m not
going to do anything to come between you two."

She dropped her gaze, jumping as if I’d shocked her.

After a moment, she said, "But, if he—"

"If he wanted to be with a man, he’d be with a man. If

he still wanted me, he’d still be with me." I exhaled heavily.
Saying that out loud hurt more than I’d expected. It was
true, I’d known it for a long time, but that didn’t take the
edge of hearing my own voice say it. I went on, "When you
date a straight guy, do you worry he’s going to run out and
bang any girl that catches his eye?"

"No, of course not. Not if I trust him."
"Do you trust Craig?"

"Absolutely," she said without hesitation.

"The only difference between Craig and any other guy

is that he’s attracted to men and women. Any other guy is

still going to be attracted to women, but it doesn’t make him
more or less likely to stray."

She chewed on her lip and—from the looks of the

creases between her eyebrows—what I’d said.

"Rebecca, he loves you. And I have no intention of

trying to get between the two of you. Yes, you’re absolutely
right about how I look at him." I paused, swallowing hard.
"But evidently you’re missing the way he looks at you."

She watched me quietly, then released a breath that

seemed to take with it the tension from her shoulders. A
slow nod told me she understood, that we were on the same
page.

"Now, about the bachelor party," I said. "You tell me.

What is okay?"

She took a long breath. "I guess…" She was quiet for a

moment. Then she laughed softly and shook her head. "Just,
don’t let him do anything stupid."

"I’ve been called a miracle worker," I said, chuckling.

"But that might be a stretch."

She laughed again. "Well, that’s all I really wanted to

discuss."

"Okay," I said with a nod.

She glanced at the sliding glass door, then back at

me. "I guess we should get back to the party."

I nodded again and gestured at the door. "After you."

She smiled at me, which almost knocked me on my

ass;  it  was  probably  the  first  time  Rebecca  had  ever  really
smiled  at  me.  No  hostility,  no  pretense,  no  façade.  Just  a
genuine smile. "Thanks, Jon."

"No problem."
She walked back into the house, and I followed.

Nine

The next evening, I couldn’t stand it anymore. Even

after two weeks, I couldn’t get Liam out of my mind. He had
no way to contact me, so the only way to reconnect with him
was  to  initiate  it  myself.  He’d  mentioned  that  his  ex  was
coming  by  today  to  get  the  last  of  his  things,  so  I  assumed
he had the day off. As good a time as any to drop in to the
club  for  a  drink,  leave  a  message  with  my  phone  number,
and hope for the best.

To my surprise, Liam was working that night, and as

soon as I walked into Wilde’s, he saw me. His eyebrows
lifted, but then he looked away, lips thinning and shoulders
bunching as if the sight of me raised his hackles. He saw me,
he recognized me, but he didn’t look thrilled about it.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. But I’d already

paid the cover and I was there. No sense turning around and
walking back out the door. Besides, maybe I’d misread his
reaction. He was, after all, working, and I’d seen how quickly
his boss could sour his mood.

I took a seat near the end of the bar, wondering if

he’d  approach  me  or  send  one  of  the  other  bartenders  over
instead.  The  club  was  packed,  though,  and  the  other
bartenders  were  occupied  with  patrons  on  the  opposite  end
of the long bar.

With a nervous knot in my gut, I surreptitiously

watched him. His sleeves were buttoned at the wrists this
time, but his jaw was still unshaven. I wondered if that was
some sort of snide compromise to the boss. Fine, I’ll drop my
sleeves, but I’ll shave when I damn well feel like it.

His expression and demeanor didn’t echo any such

humor,  though.  Liam  avoided  my  eyes.  For  that  matter,  he
seemed  to  avoid  eye  contact with  anyone.  He  kept  his  eyes
down  as  he  worked,  filling  drinks  quickly,  engaging  his
customers with little more than forced cordiality.

The warmth, the devilish sparkle in his eyes, the

flirtatiousness—it was all absent. Was this really the same
man?

As he worked his way down the bar towards me, his

hands didn’t seem steady. He furrowed his brow and his lips
tightened into a grimace as he poured drinks, as if each
drink required extreme concentration. Every once in a while,
he glanced past the bar patrons, eyes fixed someplace else
in the room, but he never looked at me.

Maybe this was a mistake. If he’d wanted to see me

again, he’d have given me his number.

The knot in my stomach tightened as he moved closer.

I wasn’t sure what to expect at this point. A demand to know
what the fuck I was doing there? Cool indifference? I had no
idea.

When he stepped in front of me, he simply said, "Jack

and Coke?" His eyes were down and his voice was terse,
bordering on icy.

"Please."

He neither spoke nor looked at me while he made the

drink. He worked quickly, as if he just wanted to get the
drink in front of me and get the hell out of there. Or wanted
me to get the hell out of there.

"Five dollars," he muttered, setting the drink on the

bar. As he did, his shirt sleeve pulled up a little, revealing the
edge of an Ace bandage wrapped around his wrist.

I didn’t ask. I just slid a ten across the bar and picked

up my drink. When he looked up, he didn’t look at me. He
looked past me, his gaze fixed on something before dropping
again.

"Keep the change," I said.

That finally prompted him to look at me, but no

reaction beyond an unspoken "are you sure?" registered on
his face. I nodded. A moment later, he was gone.

Well, that answers that question, doesn’t it?
I had no business expecting him to be receptive to

me. It was, after all, a one night stand. We hadn’t exchanged
phone numbers, we hadn’t approached the subject of seeing
each other again. When I walked into the club, I’d hoped he
might be happy to see me, but obviously he wasn’t
interested.

Now I know. Though I wasn’t hurt, I couldn’t deny

being more than a little disappointed. It was just a one night
stand,  nothing  more,  but  I  wasn’t  expecting  such  a  cold
reception. We’d moved quickly from strangers to lovers, and
evidently  moved  just  as  quickly  back  to  strangers.  Point
taken, Liam. Future reference: No phone number, no further
contact.

With that question answered, I had no reason to stay

at Wilde’s. I quickly drained my drink, picked up my jacket,
and headed for the door.

Halfway across the parking lot, someone shouted,

"Hey, Jon!"

The unfamiliar voice calling my name stopped me in

my tracks. I turned around to see one of the bartenders
sprinting across the parking lot towards me.

"Can I help you?" I asked.

"Yeah, sorry," he said, trying to catch his breath. He

gestured over his shoulder at the club. "Uh, Liam asked me
to come after you."

My eyebrows jumped. "Oh?"

"Yeah, he didn’t say why, just said he wanted you to

wait for him."

I cocked my head. "Just… here?"

"He didn’t say, so, yeah, I guess," he said.

"Did he say how long he’d be?"

The bartender shrugged. "I think he’s got a break

coming up in the next half hour or so. Might be a little
longer. But no, he didn’t say."

I blew out a breath, then nodded. "Tell him I’ll wait for

him out front." We both walked back to the club and I waited
outside while he went back in. Chewing my lip, I watched the
tinted glass door shut behind him.

I debated leaving, but curiosity kept my feet planted. I

waited on the sidewalk, ignoring the temptation to check the
time every few minutes. My heart skipped each time the
door opened, and my stomach tightened each time it wasn’t

Liam.  I  couldn’t  decide  if  I  was  annoyed  or  apprehensive.  If
he didn’t want me to show up at the club again, his attitude
earlier  had  conveyed  that  message  loud  and  clear.  I  didn’t
need him to repeat what his eyes had already said.

But then why would he send someone else after me?

He  had  seniority.  If  he  had  the  authority  to  send  someone
else sprinting across the parking lot to chase down his flings,
then he had the authority to say "I’m stepping out".  Maybe
this  was  a  joke.  Maybe  he  and  the  other  bartenders  were
watching,  wondering  how  long  I’d  wait  before  realizing  he
wasn’t coming.

The club’s front door banged open and I looked up,

once again expecting to see Liam, but it wasn’t him.

A patron stormed out, spitting on the sidewalk and

cursing over his shoulder at the bouncer that casually
followed him. A moment later, Liam’s boss came out after
the evicted patron.

"I do not want to see your fucking face in this place

again," he shouted, stabbing a finger in the air.

"I don’t need to come here," the angry patron snarled,

flipping his unruly blond hair as he turned around to give the
boss the finger. "Plenty of other places to find what I’m
looking for."

"I’m not kidding," the boss said. "If I see you

anywhere near my club, I’m calling the cops."

"Fuck you, jackass." A car door slammed and the

conversation was over. Seconds later, tires squealed.

The bouncer and boss watched the car leave the

parking lot, exchanging a few words I didn’t hear. They kept
talking for a few minutes, scowling and shaking their heads,
casting glances in the direction the car had disappeared.
Both looked at me a couple of times, and I expected to catch
an earful about loitering, but neither said anything.

Then they both went inside and the parking lot was

again deserted. I guess even places like this get crazy
customers.

I looked at my phone. It had been almost forty-five

minutes since the other bartender had stopped me. Another
fifteen minutes, and I’d leave. Just like I’d promised myself
half an hour ago. And fifteen minutes ago.

"Jon?"

I turned on my heel just as Liam came around the side

of the building. My heart jumped into my throat and I started
towards him, giving a quiet, non-committal, "Hey."

"Thanks for waiting for me." His lips thinned as his

gaze swept around the parking lot once, then twice. Then
something seemed to shake loose in him, a palpable tension
that had bunched his shoulders and facial features. He let
out a breath and looked at me.

I stopped, eyeing him uncertainly. "I didn’t think you

wanted to see me," I said. "After—"

He put his hands up and nodded. "I know, I’m sorry.

I—" Pausing, he glanced around the parking lot again. He
shivered, and when he looked at me again, he swallowed
hard. "Do you mind coming back inside? I’d really rather not
stay out here."

"Cold?" I asked.

He hesitated. "You could say that. Come on, we can go

through  the  employee  entrance."  He  gestured  for  me  to
follow  him,  and  we  went  around  the  side  of  the  building  to
the  door  marked  Employees  Only.  Neither  of  us  spoke  until
he put his hand on the door and his sleeve pulled up again.

"What happened to your wrist?" I asked.

"Just, um, just fucked it up unloading cases of beer

last night." He held the door open with his foot and tugged
his sleeve down over the bandage. "Occupational hazard."

He let the door clang shut behind him and went for the

door on one end of the short hallway. "Can you close that?"
he said, nodding towards the other end.

Without a word, I closed it. When I turned around, he

was only a few feet away, and before I could think, he kissed
me, sliding an arm around my waist as the other went to the
back  of  my  neck.  I  wanted  to  be  angry  with  him—how  dare
he  assume  I’d  want  him  to  kiss  me  after  he’d  cold-
shouldered  me?—but  my  body  had  other  plans.  In  spite  of
my  mind’s  protests,  my  arms  went  around  him  as  the
familiar taste of his kiss weakened my knees.

When he broke the kiss, his hand was on my face, the

pad of his thumb running gently over my cheekbone as he
took a long breath.

"I’m glad you came back," he whispered, kissing me

again. "I’ve been kicking myself for two weeks for not

getting your number."

I stared at him in disbelief. "You have?"

He nodded. "After the other night, hell yeah."

"Then, why…?" I raised an eyebrow.

He shifted his weight and dropped his gaze. "That—"

He cut himself off. "It had nothing to do with you. Just a lot
of shit going on in," he paused, gesturing towards one of the
closed doors. "In there. I couldn’t say anything, and then
when I turned around, you were gone, so—" He cut himself
off again. "Listen, my break’s over in a few minutes, but I’m
off in a couple hours." He paused. "Are you free tonight?"

"Yeah, I am. That’s why I’m here."

He took a breath and dropped his gaze for a moment.

"If you want to get together later," he said, almost
whispering. Then his eyes shifted back to mine. He started to
speak, but hesitated.

I kissed him lightly. "Why don’t you come by my place

this time?"

That suggestion seemed to put him at ease, visibly

relaxing the tension written all over his face.

He smiled. "Leave me your address. I can be there

around ten."

Whatever uncertainty he’d lost just then, I found.

Everything  about  him  tonight—his  body  language,  the
sudden change in his demeanor, his cryptic answers, this odd
tension—unsettled  me.  It  wasn’t  that  he  seemed  volatile  or
threatening,  but  I  had  a  feeling  there  was  something  he
wasn’t telling me.

Still, I wanted to see him, and guessed that he’d be

more candid about it once we were alone.

I nodded. "I’ll be there."

Ten

I sat on my couch with a book I wasn’t actually

reading,  listening  for  the  sound  of  a  car  pulling  into  my
apartment  complex.  I  was  so  used  to  the  constant  mumble
of  passing  cars,  I  could  instantly  tell  when  one  broke  away
and  turned  into  the  parking  lot.  Tonight,  each  car  that
passed without turning faded into the distance with a subtle
not Liam echoing in my mind.

It occurred to me that he could have walked to work

again,  so  he  wouldn’t  be  driving.  Wilde’s  was  almost  a  mile
down  Broadway.  I  hoped  he  didn’t  walk;  that  would  mean
waiting longer, and I was already coming unglued.

Shortly after ten, a motorcycle distantly registered, a

barely noticeable disturbance in the usual murmur of passing
cars. When it changed direction, my head turned and I set
my book on the couch.

The engine idled for a moment, then cut off. I glanced

out  the  window  and  my  pulse  jumped  as  Liam  pulled  his
helmet  off  and  ran  his  fingers  through  his  hair.  Walking
quickly, he started towards the building. Whatever questions
I had, whatever uncertainty had driven me crazy all evening,
all  of  it  melted  away  in  the  simple  knowledge  that  he  was
here.

Moments later, he was at my door. We exchanged

knowing  grins,  but  said  nothing  as  I  let  him  in.  The  familiar
scent  of  his  leather  jacket  made  my  mouth  water,  instantly
taking me back to that first kiss on the way to his apartment.
I  shook  my  head  and  turned  to  chain  the  door  with  fingers
that  couldn’t  seem  to  remember  how  to  do  anything  that

wasn’t unzipping or unbuckling. Finally I just turned the
deadbolt and called it good.

He set his helmet on a chair and we looked at each

other for a moment. Neither spoke. Neither moved. There
was an arm’s length of space between us, and we silently
dared each other to cross it.

I still couldn’t quite believe he was there. In my

apartment. With lust in his eyes and a filthy smirk pulling up
one side of his mouth. He looked more relaxed now than he
had  at  Wilde’s,  and  he  was  dressed  more  casually,  having
exchanged  his  coatless  tuxedo  for  jeans  and  a  sweatshirt
along with that leather jacket.

The leather jacket that smelled like our first kiss. I

took  in  a  long  breath  through  my  nose.  I  wanted  to  smell
that  jacket  again,  I  wanted  to  be  close  to  it  again,  and  I
wanted to drop it at our feet again.

I wetted my lips and looked up just in time to see him

doing the same. He reached for the front of my shirt.

"My God, I want you so bad," he growled, and pulled

me into a kiss. The smell of leather mingled with his
masculine scent as the jacket creaked in my hands. A second
later, it hit the floor with a muffled thud.

My head spun, but before I let myself get completely

lost in his intoxicating kiss, I broke away just long enough to
lead him into the bedroom. Once safely in the vicinity of the
one place we both wanted to be, he put his hands on my
face and kissed me deeply, taking my breath away just like
the first time and every time since.

"I’m so glad you showed up tonight," he said, his lips

still touching mine.

"I didn’t expect you to be there," I said into his kiss as

his hands slid under my shirt.

"I always work on Saturdays," he murmured, lifting

my shirt off and dropping it on the floor.

I didn’t push the issue about his ex; it wasn’t my

business and it would be a hell of a mood killer. Instead, I
helped him out of his shirt and said, "I’m glad you were
there, though."

"I damn near dropped a glass when you walked in," he

breathed, pulling me into another kiss.

"Oh?" I reached for his belt buckle.

"Mm hmm." He kissed my neck. "What can I say? I’ve

been dying to fuck you again."

I shivered. "Then let’s not waste any more time."

"I like the sound of that," he growled against my neck.

We quickly got rid of the rest of our clothes and got into bed,
kissing  passionately.  His  fingers  ran  down  my  side,  the
coarse surface of the Ace bandage brushing against my skin
as  he  slid  his  hand  under  my  back  and  pulled  me  closer  to
him.

He kissed my neck and collarbone, his cool breath and

warm mouth making me dizzy. I ran my fingers through his
hair, shivering as he took his time in spite of his desperation.

"Fuck, I could come just from tasting your skin," he

whispered, resting on his forearms as he came up to kiss me
again.

"I could come from you tasting my skin." I reached

between  us  and  barely  kept  myself  from  moaning  when  my
fingers  made  contact  with  his  erection.  The  memories  of
everything he had done to me flooded my mind, and my own
cock  ached  at  the  thought  of  everything  he  might  do  to  me
tonight.  I  stroked  him  slowly,  letting  my  hands  remember
every ridge and contour of him,  letting him ignite memories
of how he’d felt against my tongue and inside me.

He groaned softly, still kissing me as his hips moved

against mine in a slow, subtle imitation of the way they
thrust when he fucked me. I tightened my grasp on his cock
and he gasped.

"Keep doing that," he whispered. "And you’ll make me

come." Before I could even decide if I should keep doing it or
not, he moved to kiss his way down my chest, and his cock
was out of my reach.

"There’s too much I want to do before I let you make

me come." He paused to kiss the center of my chest before
working his way farther down.

I reached back and held the slats on the headboard as

his lips inched down my abs.

"I didn’t spend nearly enough time doing this the other

night." He shifted his weight onto one arm and slowly, gently
stroked my cock. "I fully intend to make up for that tonight."
With that, he circled the head of my cock with his tongue.

"Oh God…" My back lifted off the bed as he slowly took

more and more of me into his mouth. He stroked with his
other hand, moving exactly in time with his mouth.

"I want to fuck you so bad," he said, still stroking

slowly even when he looked up to speak. "Jesus, Jon, I want
to fuck you, but I can’t get enough of…" He let out a breath,
then went down on me again, his lips and tongue sending me
out of my damned mind.

"Holy…shit…" I gasped as he deep-throated me. I

looked  down,  watching  him,  barely  comprehending  that  this
was  really  happening.  Never  in  my  life  had  someone  gone
down  on  me  with  such  hungry  enthusiasm;  he  wasn’t  just
giving head because it was a step towards fucking me. Liam
sucked my cock like there was nothing else in the world he’d
rather do.

And there was almost nothing else in the world I’d

rather let him do, but I wanted him too much to wait another
minute.

"Liam, I want you to—" I gasped, holding onto the

headboard, the sheets, the pillow, wherever my hands could
find something to anchor me. "Oh my God."

"Tell me," he said, the vibration of his voice against

my cock driving me insane. He deep-throated me again, then
went back to stroking with both hand and mouth.

I moaned, trying to remember where I was, let alone

what I’d wanted to say.

"Tell me what you want," he whispered, running his

tongue up the shaft of my cock.

Don’t stop doing that…but I want you to fuck me…but

that feels so good…I want you inside me…fuck! I wetted my
lips. "I want…" His tongue rendered mine completely useless.
So many things I wanted, so many ways I wanted to have
him, but all I managed was a single whispered word: "More."

"More of this?" He took me into his mouth again. "Or

do you want me to fuck you?"

As soon as he said it, my indecision evaporated. "Yes,

fuck me, please," I said breathlessly. "I want you to fuck
me."

"Thought you’d never ask," he growled, kissing his

way back up my abs and chest. He rested on his forearms
and kissed me deeply, pressing his hard cock against my hip.
"Do you have condoms?"

"Of course." I reached for the bedside table. "I knew

you were going to be here tonight."

He laughed, nipping the side of my neck. "Came

prepared?"

I held up a condom between two fingers. "Prepared to

come."

Chuckling, he rolled his eyes and sat up. I started to

sit up as well, but he put his hand on my shoulder.

"Stay just like that." He tore the condom wrapper with

his teeth. "On your back."

I did as he asked, lying back. He rolled the condom

on, but as he reached for the lube, a painful grimace
flickered across his face and he flexed his bandaged wrist
gingerly.

"You okay?" I asked.

He nodded as he poured some lube into his hand. "I’m

fine." He gave me a reassuring smile as he looked me up and
down, then grinned. "Just fine, believe me."

"I can get on top if it’ll take the strain off your wrist," I

said.

"No, this way is perfect." He leaned down to kiss me.

"Besides, sex heals all wounds."

I laughed, running my fingers over his nipple rings. "I

thought time healed all wounds."

He shrugged and sat up, pushing his cock against me.

"Details."  His  hand  rested  on  my  hip  and  his  humor  faded,
replaced by a look of pure arousal. "My God, I’ve been dying
to have you again." His breathing was ragged and uneven, a
deep  groan  escaping  his  lips  as  he  slid  into  me.  I  expected
him  to  fuck  me  hard,  to  rail  me  like  he  did  the  other  night,
but he didn’t.

His abs quivered as he withdrew and pushed back in,

while he took the longest, slowest strokes I’d ever imagined
possible. My head spun as he made sure I felt every last inch
of his cock. I wanted to tell him to keep going just like that,
but it was too intense for me to do anything beyond simply
surrendering to it.

He leaned down to kiss me and I wrapped my arms

around him, not sure if I just wanted to touch him or if I
needed something to hold onto.

Neither of us made a sound except for the occasional

gasp  that  separated  our  mouths.  His  body  trembled  against
mine, and it was impossible to tell where his shudders ended
and  mine  began.  It  was  surreal  to  move  this  slowly,  to  be
this  quiet,  when  we  were  both  so  desperate,  but  I  wasn’t
sure we could move any faster or be any more vocal than a
sharp breath now and then. Slowed by desperation, silenced
by intensity.

Kissing my neck, he exhaled against my skin as he

pushed his cock deep inside me. His soft moan broke the
silence and a shudder ran down his spine. His lips just below
my ear, he whispered, "Do you like that?"

I nodded, holding his shoulders for dear life as every

long, slow stroke made my eyes water a little more.

"Tell me, Jon," he said.

"Oh God," I moaned. "Oh my God, it’s fucking

awesome."

He raised his head. "I told you it was."

I looked up at him and he smiled at me just before his

eyes closed again.

"Jesus Christ…" Squinting as if the dim light in the

room was too much, he whispered, "Now do you see—" He
gasped as another shudder surged through him. "Do you see
why— oh God…" He kissed me lightly, screwing his eyes shut
for a second. "Do you see why I loved it when you fucked me
this way?"

"Fuck yes." I dug my fingers into his shoulders.

"Keep—" My spine arched off the bed as he hit every damned
nerve inside me one at a time.

"Keep what?" he whispered, his voice shaking but his

slow rhythm staying perfectly steady.

"Keep doing that." I closed my eyes as the intensity

became almost too much. "Oh my God, just like…"

"I could do this all night," he groaned.

"So could I, except—" My voice trailed off into a moan

as he withdrew.

"Except what?" he asked, faltering slightly as alarm

tinged his voice.

"Except—" I sucked in a breath. "You’re gonna make

me come."

A soft huff of laughter warmed the side of my neck

and raised goose bumps on my back.

"Am I?" His next stroke was harder, striking every

hypersensitive nerve just right to send lightning bolts up my
spine. Kissing and breathing against my neck, he whispered,
"You’re right on the edge, aren’t you?"

I could only manage a nod, my throat refusing to

grant me even the slightest moan as Liam overwhelmed my
senses.

He moved a little faster. "Tell me," he whispered,

kissing me lightly. "Tell me how close you- oh fuck…" He
groaned, dropping his head beside mine and shivering as he
fucked me harder. "Oh God, Jon, I’m gonna come, too. You
feel so fucking good…"

The desperation in his voice shook me out of my

silence. "Oh…my…God…"

"Tell me, Jon," he said, his voice shaking as he moved

faster.  "Oh  fuck,  I  don’t  want  to  come  until  you  do,  but—"
His  arms  almost  gave  out  as  a  violent  tremor  drove  him
deeper inside me.

"Just like that…" My breath caught as every stroke

brought me closer. "Oh God, Liam, just…" My vision blurred.
"…like…"  My  nerves  turned  to  pure  electricity.  "…that."  The
force  of  my  orgasm  rolled  my  eyes  back  and  lifted  my  hips
off the bed, pulling him deeper.

"Oh Jesus," he groaned, fucking me harder,

intensifying  my  orgasm  until  it  was  almost  too  much.  "Oh
God,  I’m,  I  can’t…"  His  voice  sounded  choked,  somewhere
between a gasp and a sob. Just as he screwed his eyes shut
and  started  to  tremble,  I  took  my  hands  off  his  shoulders
and went for his nipple rings. His eyes flew open and his lips
parted. "Oh…fuck…"

"Like that?" I whispered, watching his composure fall

apart as his face flushed, his eyes closed, and his arms
trembled beneath him as he tried to take just a few. Last.
Strokes.

"Fucking…hell…" he moaned. A second later, he threw

his head back, slammed his cock all the way into me, and
came with a throaty roar.

He rested his head on my shoulder and tried to catch

his breath. I ran my fingers through his sweaty hair as my
body shuddered with the last few aftershocks.

Eventually he pushed himself up and kissed me as he

withdrew slowly. "That," he said. "Was incredible."

I trailed my fingers down his back. "I’d give it a ten."
"Out of how many?"

"Five."

He chuckled and got up to get rid of the condom while

I reached for the tissues on the nightstand. When he
rejoined me in bed, we lay together in silence for a long
moment, still out of breath and shaking.

I kissed him lightly. "I can honestly say that was well

worth the cover charge and the price of a drink."

He laughed. Then his humor faded slightly. "Sorry

about earlier. When you came into the club, I really-"

"Don’t worry about it." I shrugged. "You were at

work." In spite of everything that had happened earlier, he’d
put me at ease with his attentive touch and undeniable
desire. Whatever it was that happened at the club, I believed
him now when he said it had nothing to do with me. I smiled.
"Besides, I think you’ve more than made up for it."

A half-hearted smile tugged at the corner of his

mouth. "I’m serious, though. I really wasn’t trying to be a
dick. There was just—"

I cut him off with a long kiss. "No harm done," I

whispered. "Really." I smiled, and this time he returned it.

"If you say so." He ran his fingers through my hair.

"But whatever you do, do not let me leave without your
phone number this time."

"Well, at least now you know where I live, so you can

still find me."

"I don’t want to show up at your door unannounced."

"I wouldn’t kick you out."

"So if I showed up at your door and said I was horny,

you’d let me in?"

"After what you did tonight and last time? Fuck yes I

would."

He grinned. "What if you had company over?"

"I’d throw their asses out and drag yours to bed."

He nuzzled my neck. "Good to know. Maybe I’ll

randomly show up at all hours of the night, just to test this
theory."

I played with one of his nipple rings, grinning as he

gasped and shivered. "Remember, I know where you live

Eleven

When I opened my eyes the next morning, Liam was

already awake. He was on his side, resting his head on his
hand, and smiled at me. "Morning."

"Morning," I said, blinking the sleep out of my eyes.

"Sleep well?"

"Like the dead, after everything you did," I turned my

head to get a kink out of my neck.

He kissed me lightly. "Mission accomplished, then."

"You haven’t been awake long, have you?"

"A while."

"Couldn’t sleep?"

"Oh, I slept." He smiled again. "I was just trying to

decide if I should wake you up, or let you sleep a little
longer. Figured I should let you sleep."

"Why? Because you knew you wore me out?"

He laughed. "Because I knew you were recharging so I

could wear you out again."

I chuckled and pulled him into a kiss. "You know, we

should be careful with all of this talking."

He cocked his head. "Why?"
"One of these days, we might accidentally have an

actual conversation."

"A—" He scoffed. "A conversation? You mean, words?

Not sex?"

"I know, I know, terrible thought."

Kissing me lightly, he said, "Oh, I don’t know. I could

probably manage a conversation or two. As long as you don’t
expect me to quote Shakespeare or some crap."

"Only if you want to put me to sleep."

"Absolutely not."
"Thank God." I laughed. "Besides, I wouldn’t mind

getting to know you a little, besides just your bedroom
prowess."

"What could possibly be more important than that?"

He grinned and ran his fingers through my hair. "So what do
you want to know?"

I shrugged. "Anything, really. I still barely know a

thing about you," I said. "Aside from what you do, where you
live, and what you drive. Or, well, ride, I guess."

He chuckled. "That’s more than I know about you. All I

know is where you live." He let a fingertip drift down my
arm. "So what do you do?"

"I manage a tech support group," I said. "Basically, I

still take calls like all the other techies, but I have to deal
with their bullshit too."

"Oh, that’s brutal."

"And I probably deal with as many drunks as you do

on a daily basis."

"What? People drunk dial tech support?"

I nodded. "Yeah, nothing like explaining how to disable

a firewall to someone who’s three sheets to the wind."

He laughed. "And I thought telling a drunk how to call

a cab was a nightmare."

"Most of my calls are relatively boring, though. It’s

just idiot after idiot. You must have some stories."

"Oh, you could say that." He rolled onto his back and I

lay  on  my  stomach.  "Mix  large  quantities  of  stupid  with
larger  quantities  of  alcohol,  and  you’re  bound  to  have  some
entertainment." He ran his fingers through my hair again. I’d
never been with a man who did that as much as he did, and
I loved it. The Ace bandage brushed the side of my face, but
I pretended not to notice it.

"Do tell about these stupid drunks," I said.

"It’s pretty much the crap you see in movies," he said.

"The occasional bar brawl, though that doesn’t happen often
where I work. Couples fighting when they’re both completely
blitzed. People who get so drunk and horny they forget
they’re out in public."

"Are you serious?"
He nodded, grinning. "It beats the hell out of breaking

up a fight, but prying two guys off of each other and
throwing them out isn’t all that much fun either."

"Isn’t that what the bouncers are for?"

"Yeah, but sometimes they’re otherwise occupied," he

said. "Or sometimes they need an extra pair of hands."

"To pry two people apart?"

"Well, it isn’t always only two people."

"Your job is definitely more entertaining than mine," I

laughed.

"I wouldn’t say there’s never a dull moment," he said.

"But they’re few and far between. It’s a fun job."

I nodded towards the bandage on his wrist. "Can’t

imagine that’s made your job any easier."

He looked at it and scowled, then shrugged. "It’s not

as sore as it was. The first night was a  bit rough. Ended up
pouring  with  my  left  hand  as  much  as  I  could,  but—"  He
shrugged  again.  "It  happens.  Actually,  the  worst  part  was
riding my bike with it."

I cringed. "I can imagine."

He pulled his hand away and flexed his wrist gingerly.

"It’ll heal eventually."

"How bad is it?" I asked. "Just a sprain?"

"Nah," he said. "Mostly just bruised it really badly, but

I have to keep it wrapped to keep the swelling down."

"You didn’t fracture it, did you?"

He shook his head. "Had it X-rayed to be sure, but it’s

fine."

"Damn, how hard did you hit it?"

He flinched, but recovered quickly. "Just, you know,

smacked  the  fuck  out  of  it."  Clearing  his  throat,  he  put  his
arm  over  me,  his  hand  and  the  bandage  moving  under  the
covers.  "One  of  those  things  when  you’re  slinging  cases  of
booze  around."  He  laughed,  but  his  eyes  didn’t  back  it  up.
Then  he  leaned  forward  and  kissed  me  gently,  the  smile
turning  more  genuine  when  he  looked  at  me  again. "Jesus,
Jon,  you  just  don’t  know  much  how  I’ve  been  hoping  you’d
show up at Wilde’s."

I slid my hand to the back of his neck and drew him

into another kiss. "Just took me a little while to get up the
nerve to do it."

"I didn’t mind waiting," he whispered. He kissed me

again, then lay back and looked at me. "And I’d like to see
you again, too. Maybe…" He paused, his cheeks coloring
slightly. "I don’t know, maybe go out somewhere other than
where I work or where one of us lives?"

"I think I could be persuaded to be seen in public with

you."

"Persuaded?" He gave a short cough of laughter and

pulled me closer to him. "And here I thought I’d won you
over with my amazing oral skills."

"Oh, you did," I said.

"Good, then I won’t have to twist your arm to go out

with me."

I pretended to give it some thought. "You could if you

wanted to."

"Ooh, kinky," he laughed. Then his humor faded. He

cleared his throat as he ran his fingers through my hair. "I’ll
be totally honest, though. I’m just coming off of this split
with my ex, and—"

"Don’t want anything serious?"

"Exactly."

"Then we’re a match made in heaven, because the last

thing I want right now is anything serious."

"I do want to see you again, though."

I shrugged. "So we’ll keep it simple. Casual."

He grinned. "You mean we can fuck like there’s no

tomorrow without all of the other bullshit?"

"That’s exactly what I mean." I ran my finger up the

center of his chest. "But I wouldn’t mind going out
sometime, too."

"Hmm." He pretended to be in deep thought. "So do I

have to be on my best behavior if we’re out in public?"

Raising an eyebrow, I said, "Define your best

behavior, Liam, because I think you and I might have very
different interpretations of that."

He chuckled. "So, loudly describing everything we did

last night is out of the question?"

I laughed. "As entertaining as it would be, yes."

"Coarse language?"

"Encouraged."

"Excessive drinking?"

"Required."

"Bending you over a table and—"

"No."

"Damn." He laughed. Then he shrugged and his

expression  turned  more  serious.  "Well,  if  you’re  sure  you
don’t mind showing your face in public with me…" He raised
in  eyebrow,  waiting  for  me  to  nod  before  he  continued.  "I
have  to  work  the  next  couple  of  nights,  but  I  have
Wednesday off."

"I don’t have anything going on that night." Then I

smiled. "Well, now I do."

He smiled. "Like seafood?"

"Fuck yes."

"Good. There’s a place out on Alki that I’ve been dying

to try."

Twelve

"Ever been on a motorcycle?" Liam asked when he

came to my door on Wednesday night.

"Can’t say I have."

"Want to? I have an extra helmet with me." His

eyebrow lifted, as did the corner of his mouth.

"Hell, why not?" I said with a shrug.

"I’ve got an extra jacket, too," he said. "Unless you

have one you’d rather wear. Preferably leather."

"Part of the biker fashion statement?" I asked,

reaching into my hall closet for my leather jacket, which I
hadn’t worn in eons.

He laughed. "No, it’s so you don’t freeze your ass off."

I rolled my eyes and pulled the jacket around my

shoulders. "This from the man who thinks any temperature
less than triple digits is cold."

"Trust me on this one," he said. "Hit seventy miles an

hour, and I don’t care how hot it is, that wind is cold."

"I’ll take your word for it," I said as we headed for the

door.

"You’re more than welcome to go without a jacket," he

said. "But I wouldn’t recommend it. At least when you did
that Polar Bear Swim, you had the option of getting out of
the water."

"So if I got cold, you wouldn’t let me wear your

jacket?"

He snorted. "Fuck no."

"You’re such a gentleman."

"I am not and I resent the accusation."

In the parking lot, I regarded his bike nervously, but

tried  not  to  show  it.  The  idea  of  blazing  down  the  freeway
without  that  comforting  metal  shell  between  my  body  and
the pavement—or other cars—was a bit unnerving, but what
the hell?

He handed me a helmet and leather gloves. As he put

on his own gloves, he nodded towards the bike. "Put your
arms around my waist and don’t lean to either side. If you
think I should pull over for any reason, just tap my arm."

I smirked as I pulled the gloves on. "Do I need a safe

word, too?"

He laughed and winked. "Not that I’ll be able to hear

you."

"Are you sure this isn’t just an excuse to have me

holding onto you while we’re in traffic?"

"That’s exactly what it is." He gestured at my helmet

and put his on. "Now get on and hang on."

~ * ~

After we left the restaurant, there was still an hour or

so  of  daylight  remaining.  The  wind  off  the  water  was  cool,
but  not  unpleasantly  so.  I  wanted  nothing  more  than  to  get
back  to  one  of  our  apartments—and  his  eyes  told  me  we
were  very  much  in  agreement—but  traffic  was  still  hellish
this time of night.

So, rather than slogging through the remnants of

Seattle’s  notorious  rush  hour,  we  wandered  along  the
waterfront  on  Alki,  the  point  across  the  water  from
downtown.  As  our  conversation  meandered  between  flirting
and getting to know each other, I bargained with the rational
voice in my head that warned against letting the night go on
too long. The longer we stayed out on Alki, the later we’d get
into bed, and I was fairly certain the word "quickie" wasn’t in
Liam’s vocabulary. It promised to be an incredibly hot night,
but I had no doubt I’d be paying for it the next day.

Still, even as rush hour died down in the distance and

the sun sank closer to the horizon, we just kept walking and
talking.  The  conversation  wandered  aimlessly  amongst  the
mundane,  never  straying  far  from  the  safety  of  the
superficial,  but  there  was  nothing  mundane  or  superficial
about the smoldering looks we exchanged along the way.

Every time our eyes met, I added a little more time to

my  self-imposed  curfew.  By  the  time  we  stopped  to  lean
against a railing above the rocky shore, I was contemplating
how I could get through the next day on one or two hours of
sleep.  When  Liam  absently  licked  his  lips,  I  promised  the
angel  on  my  shoulder  an  extra  shot  of  espresso  in  the
morning if it would just shut up.

I know I’m going to pay for this, but every time he

looks at me like that, I know it’s going to be worth it.

As we talked, my cell phone vibrated in my pocket. I

pulled it out and glanced at the caller ID.

Craig.

Normally, when his name came up, my heart jumped

and my hands shook, but the only thing I felt just then was
annoyance. Don’t interrupt me. I’m busy getting over you. I
pressed the key to send his call to voicemail, and tucked the
phone back in my pocket.

"Don’t feel like talking?" Liam asked with a grin.

"Not to anyone else, no," I said. "And definitely not to

my ex-boyfriend."

"That the one who’s getting married?"

I nodded. "So I’m guessing that he either wants to

vent about the wedding or the woman he’s marrying."

He laughed and shook his head. "I don’t know how

you put up with that, especially when it’s only been a few
months."

Shrugging, I said, "The price you pay when you stay

friends with an ex, I guess."

"Yeah, I can imagine," he said, his voice low. "Just

another reason I haven’t wanted to even think about getting
into a relationship again in the near future. Too much bullshit
after the fact, whether you stay friends or not."

"So I’m learning." I rolled my eyes and laughed. "Can’t

complain about this casual stuff, though."

"Amen to that." Then he shrugged. "I don’t know, I’ll

probably get serious with someone again eventually. But for
now, it’s just too soon."

"I hear that," I said. "Two years doesn’t go away

overnight." Though six months isn’t exactly overnight.

He laughed softly. "Good point." There was a

mischievous sparkle in his eyes when he looked at me. "But I
certainly can’t complain about what happens overnight

sometimes."

"Glad to help," I said with a wink.

Chuckling, he looked out at a ferry slicing through the

rolling waves. Absently, he rubbed his injured wrist, which
was no longer wrapped but still bore the fading remnants of
a bruise. A hint of a grimace pulled at his mouth.

"Feeling better?" I nodded towards his wrist.

He glanced down, as if he hadn’t realized what he was

doing. "Yeah, it’s healing." Tugging his sleeve over the
bruise, he laughed humorlessly. "It’d probably heal faster if I
gave it a rest."

"Can’t imagine what you’re doing to overuse it." I

snickered.

"Oh please," he laughed, this time with some genuine

humor. "With you around?"

"Oh, I see," I said. "So I’m just here to give your hand

a rest."

"And you hate every minute of it."

"I do. Terribly."

"Bullshit," he snorted. He looked down at his hand

again, flexing his wrist before resting it on the railing again.
"No, it’s just between work and packing to move, my hands
are killing me anyway." He gestured sharply at his injured
wrist. "That doesn’t help much."

"Packing?" I remembered the boxes all over his

apartment. "Moving?"

He nodded. "Just a few blocks away. Seemed like a

good idea at the time, but damn, talk about a pain in the
ass."

"You know, if you need an extra pair of hands, I’d be

more than happy to help."

"Are you sure? Seems like a bit much to ask of a booty

call."

"You’re not asking, I’m offering." I laughed. "But I do

accept tips."

He chuckled. "Trust me, you will be more than

compensated."

"In that case, I’ll definitely help."

"I appreciate it, believe me." His smile was amused

but still genuine.

"When are you moving?"

"A week from Sunday. I’m paying everyone else who

helps me with beer and gas money, but—" He grinned. "I
think you and I can negotiate a different kind of currency."

I rested my forearms on the railing and gave him a

playful look. "Do I still get beer and gas money?"

"Absolutely."

"Then I’ll be there."

He laughed, but when he turned towards me, the

laughter faded to a grin, which in turn shrank into a shy
smile. He took a breath as if he was about to speak, but then
exhaled, his eyes darting towards the water.

"What?" I asked.

He shifted his weight, turning his body towards me but

still looking at the water. After a moment, he looked at me.
"I know it’s kind of an odd question, but are you okay with,
you know…" He trailed off, avoiding my eyes for a second.
"In public?"

I shrugged. At that point, I wanted him so badly, I

probably wouldn’t have objected to much of anything. "I
guess it depends on what you have in mind."

He swallowed hard, looking out at the water again.

I put my hand over his on the railing and ran my

thumb across the back of his wrist. "Why?"

When he looked at me, I couldn’t tell if it was the rich

red  reflection  of  the  setting  sun  or  the  palpable  lust  within,
but the intensity in his eyes sent a shiver down my spine. In
a  voice  so  low  it  almost  drowned  in  the  rhythmic  rumble  of
the  waves  below  us,  he  said, "Because  I  really  want  to  kiss
you right now."

There was no point in even trying to speak, so I didn’t

bother. I turned, and as soon as my shoulder was no longer
between  us,  he  didn’t  hesitate.  Just  as  he  had  the  night  we
met, he breathed me into a kiss that was as slow and gentle
as  it  was  spine-tingling.  Considering  how  many  things  we’d
already  done  together—and  how  many  times—a  simple  kiss
shouldn’t have turned me on this much, but it did.

The angel on my shoulder once again tried to warn me

against  letting  this  turn  into  a  late  night.  When  the  kiss
deepened, the soft whisper of Liam’s breath against my skin
drowned  out  that  little  voice.  As  his  arm  went  around  my
waist  and  his  other  hand  slid  up  my  neck  into  my  hair,  his

coarsely stubbled jaw moving slowly beneath my hand, the
only voice in my head was the one screaming for me to get
Liam home now.

By the time we separated and looked at each other, I

was already planning my excuse du jour to call in sick the
next day.

He slowly ran his tongue along his lip. "Want to get

out of here?"

"In a minute." I pulled him closer, kissing him again.

"In a minute?" he laughed softly against my lips. His

fingernails gently brushed my scalp, making me shiver. "The
sooner we leave, the sooner we can get into bed."

"I know." I slid my hand around to the back of his

neck. "But I want to watch the sun go down."

"Mm hmm." His held me tighter. "Can’t watch the sun

go down with your eyes closed."

"Details."

Thirteen

Long after the sun went down, we made it back to

Liam’s  motorcycle  and  headed  out  to  the  deserted  freeway.
Traffic had long since cleared out, but it seemed like forever
before  we  left  the  interstate  and  made  it  up  to  Broadway.
The  sign  for  Broadway  made  my  heart  pound;  the  bland
green and white sign may as well have been bright red neon
screaming only a few blocks to Liam’s apartment.

We passed the coffee shop where we’d met after

leaving  Wilde’s  that  first  night,  and  I  was  ready  to  come
unglued.  The  first  cross  street.  Then  the  second.  The  cold
brick  wall  that  I  swore  I  could  still  feel  biting  into  my
shoulder blades.

The light ahead of us—the last cross street before his

apartment—turned red.

We slowed to a stop and Liam put his foot on the

pavement to balance the bike. As he did, he put his hand
over mine, squeezing gently.

I couldn’t see his face or hear his voice. Two thick

layers of leather divided our hands and kept me from feeling
his skin. We were about as separated as two people could be
when sitting this close together, but when his thumb ran
over the back of my hand, I shivered as if he’d touched bare
skin. I moved my thumb against his and he squeezed my
hand again.

The light turned green and he released my hands.

I couldn’t help but notice that we were going just a

little faster this time.

When the apartment came into view, the engine

whined as he accelerated again. A ripple of fear ran up my

spine as I wondered just how fast he planned to take the
turn into the parking lot, but he slowed down and made a
smooth arc from the road into the lot, coming to a stop in a
reserved parking spot.

We both took our helmets off and I couldn’t help but

notice that his hair was just slightly tousled, the way it was
after I took his shirt off the other night.

"I could have sworn that drive was shorter." He put a

gloved hand on the side of my face and kissed me, his
breath hissing across my skin as his mouth devoured mine.

"Let’s get in the house," I whispered.

Behind me, an engine revved and tires squealed. Liam

broke the kiss and looked up, his body tensing, eyes fixed
somewhere over my shoulder.

I glanced behind me, then looked at him. "What’s

wrong?"

His eyes followed something, then he shook his head

and kissed me again. "Nothing. Just another idiot trying to
cause an accident." Then he grinned and nodded towards the
building. "Come on, let’s get inside before I do something to
get us arrested."

We both took the stairs two at a time, but I couldn’t

say for sure if that was why we were both breathless by the
time Liam dead-bolted the front door behind us.

He set the helmets on a chair, then leather creaked as

he pulled me into a hungry, desperate kiss. Against my lips,
he growled, "I’ve been going out of my mind all day waiting
for this." Still wearing his gloves, he touched my face, then
pulled away abruptly.

"Fucking things," he muttered, yanking his gloves off

with  shaking  hands.  I  did  the  same  and  when  we  came
together  again,  the  coarse  warmth  of  his  skin  against  my
fingertips made my breath catch.

The leather jacket that had kept the chill wind at bay

was suddenly much too hot. Still kissing him, I unzipped my
jacket,  then  went  for  his.  He  shrugged  his  off  and  pushed
mine  over  my  shoulders.  After  being  divided  by  leather  for
the  last  half  hour,  even  the  thin  fabric  of  our  shirts  was
simply too much distance, so we got rid of those too.

He led me into the bedroom and we kicked off the rest

of our clothes. He put his arms around me and kissed me

hungrily, picking up where we’d left off out on Alki. The
intensity of his kiss combined with the heat of his body made
my knees shake.

Oh yes, I’m going to pay for this tomorrow. And oh

yes, it’s going to be worth it.

We inched towards the bed.

"My God, I want you so bad," he said, turning away

just long enough to pull a condom out of the drawer. "You
just don’t—" He stopped abruptly, lips parted in surprise
when I plucked the condom out of his hand.

"The feeling’s mutual, believe me." I tore the wrapper

with my teeth and winked at him. He stared at me in
disbelief for a second, then his lips pulled into a grin. I kissed
him as I rolled the condom on and fumbled blindly for the
lube.

"On my back?" he murmured against my lips.

"Not this time." I poured some lube into my hand.

"Knees?"

I shook my head and grinned. "Just put your hands on

the bed."

"I like the sound of this." He paused to kiss me before

doing as I asked.

Closing my hands around his hips, I took a deep

breath,  trying  to  keep  myself  from  coming  just  from  the
sheer  anticipation.  I  pushed  against  him  and  as  the  head  of
my  cock  slid  into  him,  I  watched  a  shudder  ripple  up  his
spine.

"Oh fuck, Jon," he murmured. "That’s…" The words

faded to a low groan and his shoulders trembled.

I moistened my lips. "Like that?"

He nodded, releasing another soft groan as I withdrew

slowly.

As I moved faster, I let my hands move from his hips

to  his  back,  then  up  his  spine  to  his  shoulders.  His  muscles
quivered beneath my hands, every tremor sending me closer
to an orgasm, but I forced myself to hold back. There was no
way  this  could  be  over  that  fast;  I  was  aroused  beyond
words, but this was too hot to end yet.

"That feels amazing," he breathed.

"You have no idea." I gritted my teeth to keep myself

in control. Keeping one hand on his shoulder, I slid the other

around his waist. He shivered as I stroked his cock.

"Oh God," he groaned. He shifted his weight onto one

hand and closed the other over mine, neither hindering nor
guiding, just touching. As if he wanted to feel my strokes
every way he possibly could.

"Harder," he growled. "Fuck me harder."

"You want it harder?"

"Yes," he said. "I want it harder."

I gently brought my hand out from under his, never

breaking the rhythm of our joint strokes as I closed his
fingers around his cock to let him take over.

I held his hips and thrust into him, fucking him so

hard his balance faltered. He braced himself with his free
hand, but even then, his other shoulder didn’t stop its
rhythmic motion as he continued stroking his own cock.

"Oh God, Jon," he moaned. "Oh God, I’m gonna—" He

gasped. "Jesus, that feels good…"

I grabbed his arm. "Not yet," I said, panting and

struggling to keep from breaking my rhythm. "Don’t come
yet."

"What? Don’t—"

"Not until you fuck me," I said through clenched teeth.

Another shiver straightened his spine and he put his

other hand on the bed. Between being inside him and the
anticipation of having him inside me, I couldn’t hold back
anymore.

I thrust into him as hard as I could, the room spinning

around  me  faster  and  faster  as  each  stroke  brought  me
closer. The only thing my eyes could focus on was Liam, and
when  my  orgasm  took  over,  even  his  shape  faded  into  an
abstract blur. I released a roar, then a groan, and my knees
went slack.

Holding onto him for balance, I closed my eyes and

struggled to catch my breath.

"Oh God," I whispered, sliding my hands up his sides

and kissing between his shoulders. He shuddered.

"Oh my God, I want to fuck you," he said, taking in a

hiss of breath when I flicked my tongue across his spine.

Steadying myself with one hand on his back I pulled

out slowly, my teeth chattering as every nerve in my body
crackled with the last few aftershocks of my orgasm. As I got

rid of the condom, he grabbed another and quickly put it on,
his hands trembling when he reached for the lube.

"I can’t remember the last time I was this turned on,"

he said.

"I think this is the first time I’ve ever been this turned

on," I said, my voice still shaking.

He said nothing, just grinned and put his arms around

me. Kissing me deeply, he guided me onto the bed. Then he
sat up, pressing his cock against me.

"Oh my God…" he groaned as he slowly pushed into

me.

"Jesus, you feel good," I whispered.

"You feel fucking incredible." As soon as he was all the

way  inside  me,  he  lowered  himself  onto  his  forearms  and
kissed  me,  taking  long,  deep  strokes  as  his  tongue  parted
my lips.

Then, he raised himself over me and moved faster,

exertion  making  him  grimace  and  furrow  his  brow,  but  his
eyes  never  left  mine.  Locked  on  mine,  his  eyes  were  filled
with nothing but primal, passionate lust, and every powerful
thrust  echoed  that  need.  Seeing  it  and  feeling  it  weren’t
enough; I needed to taste it again.

I pulled him back down to me, kissing him deeply as

he thrust harder and harder. A tremor rippled through him
and he broke the kiss, his entire body shaking and his breath
coming in short, uneven gasps.

"Fucking hell," he breathed, kissing my neck as his

shoulders rose and fell above me with every thrust. "Oh my
God, I’m—" He tried to kiss me, but then his head fell beside
mine  and  he  shuddered,  releasing  a  groan  that  faded  into
little  more  than  a  whimper.  "Oh  my  God,  Jon,"  he  moaned,
raising  his  head.  "You  feel  so  good,  but  I’m—"  He  gasped,
screwing his eyes shut. "I’m fucking losing it."

I ran my thumbs over his nipple rings, watching his

lips part as another shudder ran up his spine. "Don’t hold
back, Liam."

"God, I want to come…" He opened his eyes, looking

at me with the same burning intensity he had before he
kissed me earlier in the evening. "But I don’t want this to be
over. I don’t—" Another gasp. "I don’t want to stop."

I sucked in a breath. I don’t want you to stop. Not

now. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not— Pushing those
thoughts aside, I said, "We’re not going to stop. You have
me all night."

For a fleeting second, his eyes met mine. In the next

heartbeat, a violent tremor knocked the breath out of him
and an equally violent thrust knocked the breath out of me.
He shuddered, closing his eyes as he released a throaty roar.

He collapsed over me, supporting his weight on his

forearms as he panted against my shoulder. "Fucking…hell…"
he whispered.

I stroked his sweaty hair as he caught his breath. My

muscles ached with fatigue, but I knew we weren’t done. We
were nowhere near done. Though I was satisfied for the
moment, the sizzling current of need still thrummed just
beneath the surface.

When Liam raised his head and kissed me with the

same hunger he had at the beginning of the night, I knew he
was going to take me at my word.

We weren’t going to stop. He was going to have me all

fucking night.

Fourteen

I didn’t have to worry about waking up in time to call

in sick to work. My boss came in at six thirty in the morning,
and by the time Liam and I were even thinking about going
to sleep, it was after seven.

I didn’t bother trying to sound sick; fatigue took care

of that for me, along with a throat that was raw from nearly
waking Liam’s neighbors.

"Hey Barry," I said when my boss picked up. "It’s Jon.

I’m not going to make it in today."

"You all right, man?" he asked. "You sound like hell."

I cleared my throat to mask the laugh that almost

came out. "I’ll live. Just, I don’t know, a cold or something."
Clearing my throat again, this time for effect, I added, "I
should be okay tomorrow, but my voice is all kinds of fucked
up today."

Liam snorted with laughter, putting his hand over his

mouth to keep quiet.

"Well, take it easy, then," Barry said. "Call me if you

don’t think you’ll be in tomorrow." He didn’t sound happy,
but he didn’t argue. I almost never called in sick unless I was
on death’s doorstep, so when I did, he took me at my word.

"I’ll be fine," I said. After I hung up, I set my phone on

the nightstand.

"Shameless liar," Liam said.

"What? It’s true," I said. "My voice is all jacked up."

"Okay, that much is true."

"What was I supposed to say?" I laughed. "That I was

up til the break of dawn getting laid, so I’m too tired?"

"Seems reasonable enough to me." He nuzzled my

neck. "I’m sure your boss would understand if you couldn’t
come in after everything we did."

"Right, of course," I said, letting my fingertips trail

down the middle of his back. "In fact, he’d be so
understanding, he’d probably tell me not to come back at
all."

"Hmm." He nipped my shoulder. "Then you’d have

more time to fuck me."

"You’re going to be the death of me yet, Liam."

"Complaining?"

"Not in the least."

He raised his head and kissed me lightly. "So since

you’re not going to work tomorrow—well, today—do you
have any plans for the rest of the day?"

"Besides a few hours of sleep?"

"Besides that."

"Not a thing."

He kissed me again. "Then let’s take care of those few

hours of sleep, and I’ll help you find something to do for the
rest of the day."

"Deal."

~ * ~

My cell phone startled me awake. I glanced at the

clock  and  groaned  when  I  realized  it  was  only  nine  thirty.
Barely  two  hours  of  sleep,  and  someone  was  already
pestering me.

Gently freeing myself from Liam’s arms, I grabbed my

phone. It was Craig  again. Oh, for fuck’s sake, what do you
want?  I  rolled  my  eyes.  In  my  flustered,  tired  state,  I
accidentally hit the button to answer instead of transferring it
to voicemail.

"Goddammit," I muttered. Now I had to either answer

or hang up on him. Keeping my voice down so I wouldn’t
disturb Liam, I said, "Hey, Craig, what’s up?"

"Hey, Jon," Craig said. "I didn’t think you’d answer,

aren’t you at work?"

"Called in sick," I said. "What’s—"

"Sick? You okay? You sound—"
"Yeah, yeah, I’m fine." I rubbed my eyes, trying to will

myself to stay awake long enough to finish this call. "I can’t

really talk right now. What’s up?"

"I just needed to find out if you’re available for the tux

fitting next Wednesday."

I blinked through the fog of exhaustion. "I, um, I’m

not sure. I don’t have a calendar handy. I’m—"

Liam stirred beside me. A moment later, the warmth

of his body was against me and I had to resist the urge to
suck in a breath.

"You’re what?" Craig said.

"I’m—" I cleared my throat, closing my eyes as Liam

kissed my neck. "Not anywhere near a calendar." A soft huff
of laughter whispered across my spine.

"Okay," Craig said. "I need to know as soon as

possible, though. Rebecca’s picked one of those places that
requires appointments, and she won’t get off my back until I
take care of it."

"I’ll call you back tonight. I still have—" My breath

caught as Liam kissed between my shoulder blades.

"What’s wrong? Are—" Craig cut himself off. "Do, um,

should I let you go?"

Liam ran the tip of his tongue up the center of my

spine, making me shiver.

Stifling a laugh, I said, "I really should go. I’ll call you

later today."

His voice vibrating against my skin, Liam said, "No,

no, keep talking."

I shuddered. "I have to go."

Craig laughed, but it was a humorless, bitter sound.

"I’ll talk to you later. Have fun."

Liam flicked his tongue across the base of my neck.

"Oh, that you will," he growled.

"Bye, Craig." I snapped my phone shut and laughed.

"You’re a big help, you know that?"

He pressed his erection against me. "Well, yes, I am,

but—oh, wait, you said ‘help’."

We both laughed.
Nibbling the side of my neck, he said, "So what kind of

jackass calls this early in the morning?"

I bit my lip as his stubble brushed my shoulder. "Ex-

boyfriends that are being brow-beaten by their soon-to-be-
wives about wedding plans."

"Poor bastard." He slid his arm over me and pressed

his hips against me.

"Sorry I woke you up." I reached back to run my

fingers through his hair as he kissed his way up the side of
my neck.

"He woke me up, not you."
"Either way, terribly sorry."
"As well you should be." He grinned against my skin.

"But now that I’m awake…"

"Jesus, you really are insatiable."
"Wasn’t until I met you," he whispered. "Stay right

there."

Guess I can’t complain too much, I thought as Liam

reached for a condom. At least Craig’s wedding is getting me
laid.

Fifteen

Liam and I slept away the rest of the morning and

most of the afternoon. We managed to get dressed and leave
the house long enough for a bite to eat, but didn’t stay away
long. Half the time we were too exhausted to do much more
than lie in bed and talk or kiss, but I wasn’t complaining.

Once in a while, a twinge of guilt invaded my

conscience. I wasn’t one to call out sick even when I was
sick, so this was unusual for me. Those little pangs of regret
never lasted long though; the taste of Liam’s kiss cured them
every time.

By the time Liam dropped me off at my apartment, it

was almost ten thirty. Shortly after he left, I remembered
that Craig wanted me to call him back.

He didn’t bother with a "hello". Instead, he greeted me

with, "Finally found a spare minute?"

The sarcasm in his tone instantly made me roll my

eyes. "I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was quite so urgent."

"Right. Anyway." He paused. "Thanks for calling me

back."

"Not a problem." The line was silent for a moment.

Finally, I said, "So, I assume there was a reason you wanted
me to call?"

"Yeah, I told you when I called this morning."

I sighed. "Refresh my memory, I was half-asleep."

"So I gathered," he muttered. "Anyway—"

"Oh for fuck’s sake, Craig, out with it," I said. "Why

the cold shoulder all of a sudden?"

"I’m not giving you the cold shoulder, what are you—"

"Cut the crap," I growled. "What is the—"

"Did you really call in sick to stay in with your

boyfriend?"

My jaw dropped, Craig’s brazenness stunning me into

silence.

"Jon?"
I wasn’t sure if I should laugh or get angry. "I, um, I

wouldn’t call him a boyfriend, but—"

"You know what I mean," he snapped.

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my temper in

check. "Not that it’s any of your business, but yes, I did."

He scoffed. "Since when do you call in sick to work to

stay in with a guy?"

Since I met a guy who makes it worth my while. "Is

that what the problem is?"

His tone softened, dipping to an almost patronizing

level of gentleness. "Jon, I’m just worried about you. It’s not
like you to—"

"To what? Go out and have a good time, get laid, and

maybe, once in a blue moon, play hooky?"

"You’ve never—"

"Enough," I said. "You’ve made your point. I’m an

adult. So is he. I don’t need to answer to you about it."

"No, but—"
"Craig, can we discuss what you wanted to discuss

instead of the sex life you insisted I go out and get?"

"Now wait a minute," he said, sounding more annoyed

than patronizing. "I told you to get on with your life, but I
didn’t tell you to go out and risk your damned job."

I rolled my eyes again. "For God’s sake, I am not

risking my job. It was one sick day. I get several of them
every year, you know."

"Jon, come on, for a date? I mean how—"

"Jesus, it’s not that big of a deal, and it’s really not

your concern." I gritted my teeth. "Now when did Rebecca
want to schedule us for this tux fitting?"

He let out a huff of breath. In a resigned tone, he said,

"Next Wednesday at six."

"I can do that. Where?"
"The formalwear place at Westlake." He paused. "You

know where that is, right?"

"I know where Westlake is," I said. "I’ll find the store

when I get there."

"Okay, sounds good. I’ll see you then."

"Take care, Craig."

"Likewise," he muttered.

I snapped my phone shut and let out an exasperated

breath.  What  the  hell  was  his  problem?  First  he  wanted  me
going  out  and  meeting  someone,  now  he  wanted  to  act  like
he  was  my  damned  mother.  You  wanted  me  to  meet
someone, but now you’re getting your nose out of joint when
I have the audacity to have a good time with him?

I paused.
Then I laughed.

Oh, jealousy, thy name is Craig.

Sixteen

Liam set his wine glass on top of a stack of cardboard

boxes and continued filling another with books.

"Could you hand me the tape?" I said, holding the

flaps closed on another box. I sat cross-legged on the floor,
taking books out of the lower shelves while he stood on the
other side of the room emptying the upper shelves.

He tossed me the tape roll. "These are going to be a

bitch to haul out of here." He eyed the dozen or so boxes
we’d already filled and the bookcases that we hadn’t yet
touched.

"I know the feeling." I taped the box shut, shoved it

aside, and picked up another. "I probably have as many
books as you do."

"I should go through them eventually and see if I

have any to get rid of."

"Getting rid of books?" I scoffed. "Blasphemy."

He laughed, pulling a handful down from the top shelf.

"Give me a week or two after I’m settled in, and I won’t hear
of the idea again. It’s only moving the damned things that
makes me think of culling the herd."

"I hear that. Last time I moved, I was half-tempted to

just throw them all out the window and toss a match in."

He held a handful of books and looked at the window,

then back at me. Smirking, he said, "You know, that doesn’t
sound like a bad idea."

I gave him my best menacing look. "Don’t even think

about it."

He chuckled. "We’ll see how protective you are of

them after you’ve carried a box or twelve on Sunday."

"Who says I’m going to carry boxes of books? I just

said I’d help you move. I didn’t say I’d carry the heavy shit."

"You’ll carry whatever the hell I tell you to carry," he

laughed.

"We’ll see about that."

He gave me a playful glare, then shook his head.

"Thanks for helping me out, by the way."

"No problem. Gives me a chance to snoop through

your reading material and find out what really goes on in
that twisted mind of yours."

"Well, then it’s a good thing I already packed up my

porn collection." He grinned and walked past me to get
another empty box.

I dropped a couple of books into a box and stared at

him, slack-jawed. "What? You packed the porn without even
giving me a chance to look at it?"

"I figured there was no sense keeping it out." He

leaned down to kiss the side of my neck on his way back to
the other side of the room. "Once you started coming
around, I didn’t need it anymore."

"Hmm, but you kept the do-it-yourself carpentry

books out." I held up a stack. "Were you planning on building
some furniture?"

He grinned. "Repairing some, most likely."

"Can’t help you fix any of it," I said, wedging books

into the mostly-full box. "But I’ll gladly help you break it."

Raising his wine glass, he gave me a half nod. "That

was the plan." He set the glass down again. "Tape?"

I tossed him the roll. "So why are you moving,

anyway? This apartment is a hell of a lot nicer than mine."

Taping the box shut, he shrugged. "Rent’s cheaper, for

one thing."

"Isn’t it farther from work, too?"

He nodded. "It is, but…" He trailed off as he pushed

the box against the growing stack. "I don’t know, I just
needed a change of scenery. Spent two years in this place
with my ex."

"Ah," I said. "That I can understand. I’ve debated

moving at the end of my lease for the same reason."

"Oh yeah?" He glanced over his shoulder at me as he

pulled another stack down from one of the top shelves. "How

long did you guys live together?"

"A year. It was actually his place, but he signed the

lease over to me when he left."

"How considerate," Liam muttered.

"Tell me about it. Anyway, it’s a nice place, so—" I

shrugged. "I might renew it for another year, I might not."

"It’s funny how places seem different after someone’s

left," he said. "You know, you get so used to that person
being there. Then when they’re gone, it’s like the whole
place is…"

"Wrong?"

"Yes, exactly." He looked around the room. "Wrong.

Definitely the right word." I couldn’t be sure, but I swore he
shuddered. Then he cleared his throat and went back to
packing books. "So what happened with you and your ex?"

"You know, I’m not even sure. I think he just wanted

out."

"What do you mean?"

I pulled a handful of books down and set them in a

box before stretching a kink out of my back and reaching for
my wine glass. "He spent the whole last year picking fights,
then decided we fought too much, and left."

Liam raised an eyebrow. "So he didn’t like fighting,"

he said, resting his hands on the side of a box. "But he kept
picking fights? I suppose he blamed you for that?"

"Basically, yeah." I sipped my wine and gestured

dismissively. "Such is life, I guess."

"Yeah, I hear that." He sealed another box and moved

it aside. "You think exes ever talk about us that way?
Thinking we were the bastards in the relationship, not
them?"

"I’m sure they do. Though I know I’ve been the

bastard in a relationship before."

He looked up from putting a box together. "Have

you?"

My face burned as I sipped my wine. "Cheated on my

boyfriend in college."

His eyebrows lifted.

I set my glass down. "Biggest mistake I ever made, let

me tell you."

"Really?"

"Fuck yeah," I said. "Couldn’t sleep for a week

afterward, until I finally told him what happened. Then I
didn’t sleep that night because I was helping him get his
stuff out of my apartment."

"You helped him move out?"

"Well, yeah, I wasn’t just going to sit there and gloat.

I  felt  like  enough  of  a  dick  for  cheating  on  him.  The  sooner
he  was  gone,  the  better."  I  closed  the  flaps  on  the  box.
"Tape?"

He tossed it to me, swirling his wine glass with the

other hand. "Lesson learned, I guess."

"No shit." Then I smirked. "Never cheat on someone

right before finals."

He laughed. "I can only imagine."

"Seriously, though." I moved the sealed box aside and

laid the roll of tape across it. "Biggest mistake I ever made."

"You think you guys would have stayed together if it

hadn’t happened?"

"Not a chance," I said. "It just shouldn’t have ended

like that."

"I know how that goes." He rubbed the back of his

neck gingerly. "I could use a break, how about you?"

Twisting a crick out of my back, I said, "Sounds good

to me." He offered me a hand and helped me to my feet. I
paused, bending my knees gingerly. "I’m getting too old to
sit like that."

He snorted as we headed out of the office. "Too old? I

haven’t noticed your age hindering you with any other
physically taxing activities." He looked over his shoulder and
winked.

"Yeah, but I’m not fucking you with my knees."

He shrugged. "As long as the important parts are

working…" He gestured flippantly and dropped onto the
couch with a theatrical groan. "Oh man, I think I’m getting
too old for this."

I joined him, resting my arm on the back of the couch

and my knee on the cushion between us. "So, that begs the
question, then: How old is too old for this?"

"Are you asking how old I am?"

"Since that’s clearly the definition of ‘too old’ in this

case."

"Fuck you," he laughed. "How do you know I’m not

younger than you?"

"Just a guess."

He rolled his eyes. "I’m thirty-six."

I raised my glass. Just before I took a sip, I said,

"Then I was right."

"So just how much of a cradle-robber does that make

me?"

Setting my glass on the coffee table, I shook my head.

"The worst kind. Terrible, really. You should be ashamed."

Gesturing dismissively, he said, "I’m not, but you

might as well tell me anyway."

"Thirty-four."

He blinked. "No way."

"What? You think I’m older?"

"No, I thought you were younger than that."

"Well, thirty-four’s what the driver’s license says."

"Prove it." He sipped his wine and set it down.

"Oh no, if I show you my driver’s license, you’re

showing me yours first."

"Bring it on, youngster." He fished his wallet out of his

back pocket, pulled his driver’s license out, and handed it to
me.

I took it and rolled my eyes. "It figures. This photo

looks like it was taken by a damned pro."

"What can I say?" he said with a smug grin. "The

camera likes me."

"Yeah, well, the camera at the DMV does not like me."

He held out his hand. "Come on, I showed you mine.

Your turn."

I groaned and pulled my wallet out. "Prepare to see

my ugly side."

He took my license and laughed. "Oh, it’s not that

bad."

"Are you kidding? They made me look like a damned

drug addict."

"It’s not that bad," he said. "I mean, it would have

been better if they gave you a little bar with some numbers
on it, so it would look like a real mugshot, but—"

"Oh fuck you," I laughed, plucking my license out of

his hand.

"Hey, give it back!" He reached for it. "I wasn’t done

looking at it."

"Yes, you are." I held it out of his reach. "You saw it,

and now it’s going back in my wallet, never to see the light
of day again."

"Fine." He rolled his eyes and pretended to pout. I

opened my wallet and started to put my license back in, and
he lunged for it. It fell out of my hand and we both reached
for it, nearly toppling off the couch, but managing to right
ourselves even as we laughed hysterically.

"No, you’ve seen enough of—" I stopped abruptly

when I looked at him and realized how close his face was to
mine. The laughter faded and the air between us electrified.

"Trust me, Jon," he said, pulling me closer. His hand

went from my shoulder to the back of my neck as his other
snaked around my waist. "I definitely haven’t seen enough of
you."

He kissed me and we sank onto the couch, his body

over mine. I put my arms around him, tangling my fingers in
his hair as his lips parted to invite my tongue into his mouth.
The kiss was sweet with the faint remnants of wine, but it
wasn’t the alcohol that made me lightheaded. I pulled him
closer.

"I think that’s enough work for one night," he

whispered, between kisses. He pressed his erection against
my hip and, in a low growl, added, "But I could go for a
shower. How about you?"

100

Seventeen

When we stepped into the shower, I thought we might

fool around, get each other spun up, then finish things off in
bed,  but  Liam  brought  a  condom  and  lube  just  in  case.  Or
maybe he brought them because he didn’t share my illusion
that this was only foreplay. All I knew for sure is that his kiss
made  my  spine  melt  and  his  touch  made  my  cock  ache.
Before  long,  it  was  clear  we  weren’t  going  to  make  it  back
into the bedroom any time soon.

The shower was almost scalding hot, but it was tepid

against my skin compared to the heat of Liam’s body. He
held my face in both hands, kissing me passionately as water
poured over both of us.

I closed my fingers around his cock and he moaned,

letting  his  head  fall  back.  As  soon  as  he  did,  I  bent  and
kissed  the  underside  of  his  jaw,  then  his  neck,  following  a
drop of water down the front of his throat to his collarbone.

"Oh fuck," he breathed, his fingertips trailing across

my shoulders. I paused to make a circle with the tip of my
tongue and his pulse raced just beneath his hot skin. As I
continued down his neck to his chest, his fingers ran through
my wet hair, twitching each time my lips found a sweet spot.

Another drop of water rolled down his chest, pausing

on  his  nipple  ring.  Just  before  it  fell  away,  I  caught  it  with
my  tongue,  his  hands  tightening  in  my  hair  as  I  pulled  the
piercing between my lips.

A deep groan drowned in the sound of the shower as I

released the ring and started down his abs, inching
downward, one kiss at a time. I ran my hand down the side

101

of his leg while I circled the head of his cock with my tongue.
By the time my knees touched the floor, his were shaking.

"Oh my God, Jon," he murmured, leaning against the

wall as I stroked him with both hands and mouth. He
shuddered when I deep-throated him, so I did it again. Then
again. I alternated between rapid, shallow strokes and slowly
deep-throating him, changing my pace every time I thought
he’d adjusted to one rhythm.

His breath caught and his cock twitched against my

tongue.  There  was  no  string  of  profanity  this  time,  no
moaning  my  name,  no  unabashed  roar.  In  the  instant  that
he  came,  the  only  sound  was  a  quiet,  choked  whimper  and
his hand hitting the wall when his knees tried to buckle.

I didn’t stop until he begged me to, and when I stood,

he again held my face in both hands, pulling me into a deep,
breathless kiss.

"I want you to fuck me," he said, struggling to catch

his breath.

"I planned on it." I kissed him again.

With a trembling hand, he grabbed the condom and

lube that he’d had the foresight to bring in with us.

"Glad you thought ahead," I said as I put the condom

on.

"I always keep a condom handy if I’m going to be

anywhere  near  you,"  he  said  in  a  low,  unsteady  growl  that
told me he probably  wasn’t kidding. He poured lube  into his
hand and stroked my cock with it. Our eyes met and I had to
stop his hand to keep myself from coming.

He kissed me quickly, then turned around. He braced

himself against the wall and I pressed my cock against him.
He  shivered—maybe  from  the  cool  lube,  maybe  from
anticipation—as  I  slowly  pushed  into  him,  making  sure  he
felt  every  inch.  It  wasn’t  just  to  tease  him;  I  was  so  turned
on,  so  overwhelmed,  I  was  afraid  I’d  come  if  I  moved  any
faster.

"Oh my God, you feel…" My hoarse whisper nearly

drowned in the sound of falling water.

"So do you," he said. "Jesus, so do you." He pushed

back against me, pulling me deeper.

I gasped, biting my lip as I tried to hold back, but

there was no point. I was simply too turned on to wait, and it

102

didn’t matter if I fucked him fast or slow.

Gripping his hips, I gave him everything I had, driving

my  cock  as  deep  as  I  could  into  him.  He  moaned,  and  I
thought  he  begged  me  not  to  stop,  but  I  couldn’t  hear  him
because  all  I  could  think  of  was  how  incredible  he  felt  and
how close I was and how fucking beautiful he was and in the
next heartbeat—

"Oh, Jesus!" I pulled his hips against me and came,

the sheer force of my orgasm almost knocking my knees out
from under me.

When I slowly withdrew, my knees did buckle and I

leaned  against  the  wall  for  balance.  He  turned  around  and
put  his  arms  around  me,  kissing  me  tenderly  as  I  let  my
head stop spinning.

"My God, you’re amazing," he whispered.

I put my arms around his neck, as much for stability

as affection. "Likewise."

"I love the way you fuck me," he said. "In fact, I love

it so much, there’s only one thing I can do now,"

"What’s that?"

He reached past me and turned off the water, the

room  falling  completely  silent  except  for  our  breathing.  Just
before  he  kissed  me,  he  said,  "Take  you  to  bed  and  fuck
you."

103

Eighteen

My phone rang at quarter past eleven on Friday night.

I thought it was Liam, even though he was at work, but it
was Craig.

"Hey, what’s up?"

"Hey," he said. "Are you busy?"
Are you slurring? "Not at the moment, no."

"Do you mind if I come by?"

I leaned back on the couch. "What’s going on?"

He was quiet for a moment. "Rebecca and I got into it,

I just…" He took a breath. "I need to get out of the house for
a while."

Something in the back of my mind told me I was going

to regret it, but I said, "Sure, come on over."

When I opened the door twenty minutes later, his red

eyes and the pungent smell of alcohol greeted me. You’ve
been drinking for a while, haven’t you?

"Hey," he said. "Can I come in?"

I nodded and stood aside. He was mostly solid on his

feet, but his gait wavered just a little. I closed the door and
watched him make his way across the living room with a
great deal of effort.

"You didn’t drive here, did you?"

He shook his head as he dropped onto my couch.

"Grabbed a taxi."

I took a seat on the other end of the couch, half a

cushion dividing us. "So, what happened?"

"Oh, you know," he said. "The usual crap about the

wedding, about you, about—"

"About me?"

104

"Yeah." He rolled his eyes and groaned. "She still

thinks you’re hung up on me."

"Jesus, she and I talked about that at the engagement

party. I thought we’d settled it."

He laughed, that throaty bark of laughter that comes

with a few too many beers. "Nothing’s ever settled with her.
You think you’ve got something sorted, then ten minutes
later, she’s all over your ass about it."

I chewed my lip and let out a long breath through my

nose.  Obviously  she  and  I  still  needed  to  sort  a  few  things
out. Either that, or she could  learn to  live with  it, because I
wasn’t  going  to  lose  sleep  over  convincing  her,  for  the
millionth time, that I wasn’t going to take Craig from her.

He waved dismissively. "Anyway, enough about all of

that bullshit, let’s talk about something else," he slurred.
"Did you say you’re seeing someone now?"

I hesitated. Given his attitude the other night, I didn’t

expect him to be so enthusiastic about hearing about Liam.
"I, yeah. I am."

"Tell me about him." His eyebrows lifted in an

expression of genuine—if alcohol-fueled—curiosity. "Is it
serious?"

"We just met. It’s just, you know, casual."

He nodded with what seemed to be approval. "So

where’d you meet him?"

"Wilde’s. He’s one of the bartenders."

Craig’s eyes widened. "You snagged one of the

bartenders from that place?" He clapped my shoulder,
blinking a few times as if the alcohol made it hard to focus.
"Well done, my friend."

"Why?" I laughed. "Are they part of some elite group I

don’t know about?"

"Yeah, they’re bartenders at Wilde’s." He clicked his

tongue  and  shook  his  head  as  if  the  answer  was  blatantly
obvious. "Have  you  seen  the  men  behind  that  bar?  Christ,  I
don’t  think  I’ve  seen  one  there  that  I  wouldn’t  fuck  if  given
half the chance."

"Well," I said, chuckling. "I was given half the chance

and took it."

"Don’t blame you. I swear, they must recruit the

hottest men in town to pour drinks in that place."

105

"Honestly, I haven’t really paid attention to any of

them except him."

"Oh, man, you’re missing out. Give ‘em all a look

when you go in, trust me." He paused. "There was one there,
maybe three months ago…" He paused again, then shook his
head and whistled. "Gorgeous. Must have been East Indian.
Man, he was hot."

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Wait, what

were you doing in a gay bar three months ago? "I don’t think
I’ve seen him there," I said.

"Yeah, he wasn’t there the last few times I went in.

Must’ve quit."

The last few times you went in? I pursed my lips.

Don’t ask. Don’t ask.

"So which one is it?" he asked.

"Hmm?"

"This bartender you’re fucking, which one?"

I chewed the inside of my cheek. "His name’s Liam."

Craig’s brow furrowed. His lips moved, silently

repeating Liam’s name a couple of times as if running it
through his memory. Then he snapped his fingers. "Isn’t he
one of the managers or something?" He gestured at his jaw.
"The one that never shaves?"

"I wouldn’t say he never shaves." I shivered at the

thought of Liam’s stubbled jaw against my neck.

"You son of a bitch," he laughed, shaking his head.

"Damn, between him and that new guy, the blond, it’s worth
the cover just to go in and look."

And you of all people shouldn’t be looking there of all

places. Something turned in my gut.

I swallowed. "I don’t think I’ve seen the blond."

"Cute fucker," he said. "A bit more of a babyface than

I like, but he’s inked all to hell."

You know this how? A sick feeling rose in my throat.

"How, um, how long has he been working there?"

He shrugged. "I don’t know, two months, maybe?"

The sick feeling swelled into anger, and the question

was out before I could stop it. "Craig, when was the last time
you went to Wilde’s?"

"Fuck, I don’t know, I go in occasionally."

"Does Rebecca know?"

106

"God, no," he said with a flippant wave. "She knows I

hang out in clubs with friends occasionally, but she’d shit if
she knew I was there."

As well she should. I shifted uncomfortably, inching

away from him on the couch, resisting the urge to ask him if
he’d gone there while we were together. Wilde’s wasn’t the
kind of place people went to grab a couple of beers and hang
out with friends. Classy and sophisticated as it seemed, it
was nothing more than a well-dressed meat market.

A smorgasbord for singles.
A cheater’s paradise.

Nausea rose in my throat. Rebecca was concerned

about me trying to take Craig, but maybe she needed to pay
attention to the other men in town.

Either way, I’d heard more than enough.

"It’s getting late." I rose off the couch. "I have to be

up early tomorrow, so I should let you go. Are you going to
be okay getting home?"

"I can get a cab." He stood and we started towards

the door, but then he hesitated. "Rebecca’s probably asleep,
though. I should really deal with her tomorrow."

When you’re sober. Good call. "So what about

tonight?" I glanced at the couch. "You’re, um, do you need a
place to crash?"

Our eyes met and my blood froze.

Don’t look at me like that, Craig.

He swallowed hard, his eyes locked on mine.

There’s someone else you’re supposed to be looking at

like that.

I couldn’t move.
"Jon…"

Don’t. Just, don’t.

He touched my face and I closed my eyes as I

exhaled, the warmth of his hand turning my knees to water.
This is wrong. This is wrong, Craig. Don’t—

He kissed me.

Maybe it was an old habit that had yet to die, maybe it

was simply disbelief, but I didn’t pull away. I didn’t move. I
didn’t breathe.

When the tip of his tongue gently parted my lips,

alcohol and reality sent me backwards, and I nearly

107

stumbled over my own feet.

I stared at him. "Craig, what—" I paused, shaking my

head. "What the fuck?" He started to speak, but I cut him
off. "I offered you a place to crash. As in, my damned
couch."

"Jon, come on." He gave me that grin that would have

melted my defenses in the past had he not also been red-
eyed and drunk. "It’s just one night, for old time’s sake."

I tightened my jaw, fury twisting in my gut as I

remembered reassuring Rebecca that Craig wasn’t unfaithful.
"Do you have your cell phone with you?"

He gave me a confused look, then dug around in his

pockets. "Yep, right here."

"Good. You can use it to call a cab. Good night, Craig."

I gently but firmly nudged him towards the door.

"Jon, are you—"

"Good night, Craig," I said through my teeth. I shut

the door behind  him  and exhaled, cursing  under my breath.
Anger  tightened  in  my  chest  as  a  sick,  worried  feeling
knotted itself in my stomach.

I sat on the couch and tried to comprehend everything

that had just happened.

He hadn’t come out and admitted it, but he’d as good

as told me he’d been cheating on Rebecca. With men. No
one went to Wilde’s just to hang out. If he’d been going to
that club behind her back, it wasn’t just to have a few beers.

And, drunk or not, he’d come on to me tonight.

Thankfully, he hadn’t caught me in a weak moment.

With my guard down. Without another man already on my
mind. I shuddered at the thought of this night happening just
a few weeks ago.

My conscience would never let me hear the end of it if

I’d slept with Craig while he was with Rebecca. Contrary to
what she might have thought, that was something I simply
couldn’t do.

Or rather, something I couldn’t live with.

I wouldn’t be able to look at myself the next morning.

I wouldn’t be able to look her in the eye.

But could I do it?

I wanted to tell myself that I would have turned him

away if he’d come onto me then, but there were times I

108

would  have  sold  my  soul  for  another  night  with  him.  I
cringed  at  the  realization  that  if  Craig  had  asked  me  in  a
weak moment, I might have taken him up on it.

And the fact was, the six months between losing Craig

and meeting Liam were one long moment of weakness.

I shuddered again.

Turns out you were right to worry about me, Rebecca.

I looked up at Craig’s painting above the television

and decided it had been there long enough.

109

Nineteen

The following evening, Liam and I went to dinner, then

to the mall to look for something to replace Craig’s painting.
We wandered into the frame shop, browsing through prints
of every possible size and subject matter.

"So where is this going to go, anyway?" Liam asked,

flipping through a display of classic cars.

"Above the TV," I said.

He looked up, brow furrowed. "I thought you already

had a painting up there."

"I do," I said. "And it’s going away."

"Can’t say I blame you." He met my eyes and

smirked.

"What’s that supposed to mean?" I gave him a good-

natured glare.

"Nothing, nothing at all." He batted his eyes and put

his hands up defensively.

I laughed. "It’s okay, you can say it. That thing is ugly

as sin."

"Okay, it’s ugly as sin."

I rolled my eyes. "Hey, I found one that would look

good in your place."

He craned his neck from across the display. "Really?"

"Yeah, here, let me—" I reached into the display,

acting like I was pulling a print out, but instead brought up
my hand, middle finger extended. "I think that would look
perfect on your wall."

He laughed. "Don’t tempt me."

"To put it on your wall or take it as a suggestion?"
Grinning, he continued flipping through prints. "Okay,

110

so what exactly are you looking for? Painting? Photo?"

"Something completely and totally different from that

monstrosity that’s already on my wall."

"Oh, yeah, that narrows it down." He looked up.

"Where the hell did you get that thing, anyway?"

"Ex-boyfriend painted it."

"With what? His feet?"

I snorted with laughter. "Come on, it’s not that bad."

"Yes, it is."

"Okay, fine. It is that bad. But it’s going away, so

leave me alone about it."

"I’m going to give you hell until it’s off your wall," he

said. "So just accept it."

"Asshole," I muttered, trying not to snicker.

"I think you should go for something ironic," he said.

"Like a woman in a bikini."

"Or a naked woman."

He gave me a devilish grin. "Maybe kissing another

woman?"

I scoffed. "Honestly, Liam, do you think I would put

something on my wall that condones same-sex relations?"

He beamed. "You could just put a mirror up there and

we can make all kinds of pictures of same-sex relations."
Then he paused. "Oh, that reminds me, there’s a book
coming out today that I’ve been waiting for. Mind if we swing
into the bookstore on the way out?"

"Not at all. What book?"
"Dark-Adapted Eyes," he said, still thumbing through

prints. "I’ve read a lot of the author’s work, but this is an
erotic urban fantasy."

"Erotic urban fantasy? Nice."

"Bisexual, too."
"Oh really?"
"Really. And it’s been getting great reviews," he said.

"Not usually into fantasy, but her erotic stuff is phenomenal.
And, hey, if it’s got bi men in it…" He grinned.

"I may have to borrow it, then," I said.

He laughed. "Trust me, if it’s anything like the last

book, you’ll be prying it from my cold dead fingers."

My cell phone rang. As I dug it out of my pocket, I

said, "Fine, you can read it to me, then." When I looked at

111

the caller ID, I groaned. "Oh God, I don’t need this."

"Ex?"

I nodded and answered. "Hey, what’s up?"

"I, um…" Craig cleared his throat. "We need to talk."

I cradled my cell phone on my shoulder and continued

looking through the various prints. "Did you sort everything
with Rebecca?"

"Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine with her." He cleared

his throat again. "Look, about last night…" He sighed. "I’m
sorry, Jon, I really am. I was—"

"You were drunk, I know."

Liam glanced at me, eyebrows up. I rolled my eyes

and he laughed.

Craig took a breath. "I’m serious, Jon, it was just the

alcohol talking."

"Oh, color me flattered." I held up a print of the

Seattle skyline for Liam’s opinion. He wrinkled his nose and
shook his head.

"You know what I mean," Craig said.

"I also know what happened last night," I snapped,

shoving the print back onto the rack.

He sighed. "Honestly, it wasn’t…" He was silent for a

moment. "I just wanted to apologize. I wasn’t myself last
night, I—"

"Craig, I know."

"Really, I’m sorry, I should never have come onto you

like that. I was a mess last night and I just, I wasn’t
thinking."

Chewing the inside of my cheek, I stopped thumbing

through  prints.  I  could  accept  that  the  kiss  was  a  result  of
the  alcohol.  Even  when  I  was  still  pining  for  him,  I  would
have understood—however disappointed I might have been—
that it was the liquor, not Craig.

And as much as his behavior the night before

aggravated me, it wasn’t like I’d never seen him drunk. Craig
was about as intelligent in the presence of alcohol as I was
rational in the presence of Craig.

Before last night, anyway.

He was still stupid when he was drunk, but my days of

being an idiot around him were over. I held up another
print—this time of Mount Rainier—and Liam gave it a 'maybe'

112

gesture.

The advance Craig had made was totally out of line,

but it was what he’d said, not what he’d done, that really
bothered me. I wanted to ask him about his comments about
Wilde’s, but decided not to go there.

"You there?" he said.

"Yeah, sorry." I cleared my throat. "Look, it’s cool, I

understand. Just…"

"It won’t happen again. I promise."

I wonder if you’ll be saying that to Rebecca any time

soon. "Okay."

He hesitated. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, we’re cool," I said, looking up at an abstract

painting that Liam held up. I shook my head and he put it
back. To Craig, I said, "Don’t worry about it."

He hesitated. "Okay, then. And, um, before I let you

go, you got my e-mail about the tux fitting, right?"

"Still on for next Wednesday, right?"

"Yeah, at six. Is that enough time for you to get there

from work?"

"Yes, I told you, it’s fine. I’ll see you then."

"Okay. Are you sure we’re—"

"Craig, don’t worry about it. I have to go." After we

hung up, I snapped my phone shut and shoved it into my
pocket.

Liam eyed me. "What was that all about?"

I shook my head. "Ex-boyfriend and alcohol don’t

mix."

"I know how that goes," he muttered, shivering. "So

what happened? Did he drunk dial you or something?"

I laughed. "No, got in a fight with the missus and

came over to get away from her for a bit. After he drank
himself stupid."

He laughed. "Are you serious?"

"Yep," I said. "Christ, he’s an idiot sometimes."

Wonder what that says about me.

"Hey, what do you think of this?" Liam held up a

striking photo of a bald eagle scooping a salmon out of the
water.

"Hmm." I came around the display to have a closer

look. "Oh, I like that. And I’ve been meaning to get a Jason

113

Connor edition."

"Can’t blame you there."

"You know his work?"
"Absolutely." Liam grinned. "And I’ve met the guy. Hot

as hell." He gave a melodramatic sigh. "Pity he’s straight."

I elbowed him playfully. "Only you would pick out a

photo because you’d fuck the photographer."

"Why else would I pick it out?"

"Besides the fact that it’s absolutely perfect for that

blank spot above my TV? Probably because you’re a dirty
bastard."

"Come on, now, I’ve told you—"

"I know, I know, you’re their king."

He snickered, the nodded towards the print. "So that’s

a winner?"

"Definitely. Let’s go."

~ * ~

I put the print in the trunk and shut the lid. "On to the

bookstore?"

Liam glanced past me, eyes darting back and forth.

"Actually, it can wait." His earlier good humor was suddenly
absent. "Why don’t we just head in?"

I looked at him, puzzled. "I thought you—"

He gestured dismissively, eyes darting over my

shoulder  again.  "It  can  wait.  Seriously."  Then  he  smiled,
though  the  grooves  between  his  eyebrows  remained.  "I’d
rather,"  he  paused,  clearing  his  throat.  "I’d  rather  just  go
home."

Glancing over my shoulder, I turned back to him. "You

sure?"

He nodded. "I’ll pick it up at one of the bookstores on

Broadway tomorrow. Don’t worry about it." The smile
seemed less forced now, but not by much.

In the car, he was still tense, staring out the window

and chewing his thumbnail, but once we pulled out of the
parking garage, he slowly relaxed.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Yeah, I’m fine." He smiled. "Just, you know, ready to

get home." I glanced at him and the devilish sparkle had
returned to his eyes.

"Eager to help me hang up this picture?" I asked.

115

Twenty

Pulling into the parking lot at Liam’s apartment on

Sunday, I had a hell of a time finding a parking space.
Almost every visitor spot was taken, as were the reserved
and short-term spaces. Either someone was throwing a party
or Liam had everyone and their mother helping him move.

I didn’t see a moving truck anywhere, though a couple

of pickup trucks occupied the visitor spaces, so maybe he
was using those instead. It wasn’t like he had a lot of stuff
anyway, so that was probably all that was needed.

On my way up the stairs, the sound of my footsteps

was  lost  in  the  clanging  of  someone  else  stomping  down
from  a  higher  floor.  A  moment  later,  he  brushed  past  me,
hands  in  his  pockets  and  his  face  twisted  into  a  scowl.  I
paused, glancing over my shoulder. His face—scowl and all—
and unruly blond hair sparked some vague recognition in the
back of my mind, but I couldn’t place it.

I shrugged and continued up the stairs. Capitol Hill

wasn’t a huge neighborhood. After a while, even the
strangers looked familiar.

When I knocked on Liam’s door, I recognized the burly

bald guy that answered as one of the bouncers from Wilde’s.

"You’re Jon, aren’t you?" he said. I nodded and he

gestured for me to come in. He extended his hand. "I’m
Jack."

After I shook his hand, I glanced around the room. It

seemed like there were a few more people than were
necessary to move from one two-bedroom apartment to
another, but anything to get the job done faster was fine by
me.

116

The one person I didn’t see was Liam.

"Where’s Liam?" I asked.

"Bedroom." Jack gestured down the hall. Then he

chuckled. "I’m sure you know where that is."

My cheeks burned and I laughed. "I’ll find it, thanks."
I walked into the bedroom and found Liam having a

hushed, tense conversation with…himself?

They were mirror images of each other. One leaned

against  the  dresser,  the  other  paced  with  his  arms  folded
across  his  chest.  As  soon  as  I  walked  in,  their  conversation
halted and they both looked at  me with  identical pale green
eyes.

I blinked, looking back and forth between the two

men. Instant recognition flickered across the face of the one
who’d been pacing.

He smiled. "Hey Jon." He gestured towards his

doppelganger. "This is my brother, Scott."

"Glad you didn’t make me guess who was who," I said,

shaking Scott’s hand.

"Don’t put it past him," Scott said, chuckling. "He’s

tried to convince my wife that he was me before."

"Oh come on, that was your idea." To me, Liam said,

"This fucker thought it would be funny to switch places at his
wedding rehearsal and see how long it took her to figure it
out."

"I hope she figured it out before the wedding night," I

said.

They both laughed. Scott’s voice dropped to a

conspiratorial whisper. "I’ve tried to get him to stand in for
me for the marriage, too, but he won’t do it."

Smirking, Liam shrugged. "Sorry, bro, she’s not my

type."

"There’s no accounting for taste, what can I say?"

Scott said. Then he looked at me. "No offense."

"None taken."
Down the hall, a door opened and a new voice joined

the steady murmur of people in the living room.

"Sounds like Casey’s here with the U-Haul." Liam

nudged a box with his elbow. "Time to start getting all this
crap downstairs."

Scott shifted his weight, his expression turning

117

serious. "What about—" A pointed look from Liam silenced
him. Scott pursed his lips, then walked out of the bedroom.

As soon as we were alone, Liam gave me a quick kiss.

"Thanks for coming. I can use all the help I can get."

"Looks like you’ve recruited a small army for it."
"Damn right," he said. "Cashing in favors from every

last one of them." He winked. "Except you. I just wanted an
excuse to have you tired and sweaty at my new place."

I smiled. "Like you needed an excuse for that."
He kissed me again and we headed out to join

everyone else.

"Did you and your brother really switch places at his

rehearsal?" I said on the way down the hall.

Over his shoulder, he grinned. "Fuck yes. What fun is

having an identical twin if you can’t screw with people?"

"Pity he’s straight," I muttered. "Two Sables at once?

Damn."

Liam glared at me. "Dirty bastard."
I grinned. "Looks like the king has been dethroned."
"Oh, no," he said, shaking his head and smirking. "He

hasn’t." In the living room, he stopped and said, "Okay, I
guess I should introduce you around." He gestured towards a
pretty brunette. "This is Amy, my sister-in-law. She had the
misfortune of marrying Scott."

"Hey! Watch it!" Scott said.

Amy elbowed him. "Yeah, and I damn near ended up

marrying him because of you." She shook her head.
"Pranksters."

"Anyway," Liam said. He nodded towards Jack and

another  burly  bald  guy  that  I  also  recognized  as  a  bouncer.
"That’s Jack and that’s Casey." He guided  my attention to a
kid who must have been nineteen or twenty and, like Scott,
bore  a  striking  resemblance  to  Liam.  "This  is  Derek,  my
nephew."

Then he gestured at me and said to everyone else,

"All, this is Jon. He doesn’t know just how much of a jackass
I am yet, so kindly don’t fill him in."

"That’s going to cost you extra," Casey laughed. "You

didn’t say anything about hush money."

Liam flipped him the bird and we all got to work. With

that many people, it didn’t take long to clear out his

118

apartment.

Throughout the morning, as we carried boxes and

furniture  down  to  the  waiting  U-Haul  truck,  I  couldn’t  help
but notice the way Liam’s demeanor changed rapidly. Inside
the  apartment,  he  was  calm  and  relaxed.  As  calm  and
relaxed as anyone is on moving day, anyway. But whenever
he  went  outside,  he  tensed.  His  eyes  darted  around  the
parking  lot  and  what  little  he  said  to  anyone  was  short  and
terse. When he went back inside, he was back to his normal
self.

It unnerved me because it didn’t seem like the usual

stress and aggravation of someone in the middle of moving.
In fact, his demeanor was eerily similar to the apprehension
when he’d hastily changed his mind about going to the
bookstore last night.

When the apartment was empty, I rode with Liam in

the U-Haul while everyone else followed in various vehicles,
finally granting us a few minutes alone.

"Are you okay today?" I asked.

"Of course I am." He glanced at me as he turned the

truck onto Broadway. "Why?"

"I don’t know. You’ve just seemed…" I hesitated,

glancing at him. "Tense."

"Moving will do that to you."

"Yeah," I said. "But you seemed almost paranoid."

He inhaled and shifted in his seat. Then he let out a

long breath and nodded slowly. "Yeah, I am. Was. A little."

I swallowed. "About?"

"My ex," he said quietly.

A chill ran down my spine. "Did you think he was

going to come by? Cause problems?"

He shrugged. "It was a possibility. He knows I’m

moving, and I didn’t want him to come make a scene." He
paused. "Or follow us."

"Why would he follow us?"

"To find out where I live now." He swallowed. "It’s bad

enough the fucker knows where I work, I’d just as soon he
didn’t now where I’m living, too."

"Sounds like a real piece of work," I said. "He leaves

you and now won’t leave you alone?"

He laughed softly. "Apparently he still thinks we

119

should be…" He paused, clearing his throat. "Friends, or
something. So maybe he’ll get the message now."

I said nothing for a moment, unsure if I should pursue

the topic any further.

"What’s on your mind?" he asked, glancing at me.

"Ooh, I get a free psychic reading for helping you

move, too?" I laughed.

"You can pay for the reading later tonight," he said

with a grin. "Okay, seriously, what’s on your mind?"

I chewed my lip. "Last night, when we bought the

print for my living room…" We exchanged glances and he
sighed.

"In the parking garage?"

I nodded.

He ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, he was there. I

saw him, so I wanted to get out of there before he saw me."

Goose bumps prickled my skin. "Would he have said

anything if he’d seen us?"

He shrugged, but it didn’t quite mask the shudder that

ran  through  him.  "Probably  not,  but  I  can  never  tell  with
him.  I  just…"  He  wetted  his  lips,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  road
ahead  of  us.  "I  just  didn’t  want  to  deal  with  him  if  I  could
help  it."  Before  I  could  think  of  a  response,  he  changed  the
subject. "I have to go back later tonight to turn in my keys.
Your car is still there, right?"

"Yep."

"So I guess you’re stuck with me until we go back." He

glanced at me and laughed.

"Oh what a terrible, terrible thing," I said.

"Hmm." He put his hand on my leg. "Well as long as

you’re stuck with me, maybe dropping my keys off can wait
a little while."

~ * ~

Liam’s new apartment was on the second floor and—

much to everyone’s delight—had a freight elevator. Emptying
the U-Haul took less time than filling it, and before I knew it,
we were done. Derek, Casey, and I managed to snag spots
on the couch while Amy and Scott took the recliners. Jack sat
on the floor.

A moment later, Liam came in from the kitchen with a

six-pack. "Pizza’s on its way," he said. "I really appreciate

120

everyone’s help."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, save the acceptance speech for the

Academy," Casey said. "Gimme a beer."

"Typical bouncer," Liam snorted. "No manners."

"Watch it, Sable," Jack said as he took a beer.

Liam handed me a beer, then took the last one for

himself. He looked at his nephew and gestured for him to
stand up. "Move it, kid."

Derek smirked. "There’s plenty of room on the floor."

"You’re right, there is," Liam said. "So you’ll have no

trouble finding a place to sit. Move."

"Where’s mine?" Derek gestured at Liam’s beer.

"Staying nice and cold until your twenty-first

birthday," Liam said. "Which you might live to see if you
move before I have you moved."

"He’s got bouncers for friends, you might want to

listen to him," Amy said, chuckling.

"Move it, Derek," Scott growled.
Derek grumbled something under his breath and

stood.  Liam  dropped  onto  the  couch  beside  me  and  put  an
arm  around  my  shoulders  as  his  nephew  found  a  place  on
the floor.

We all fell into lively conversation, which lasted well

past the arrival and consumption of the pizzas Liam had
ordered. Before I knew it, it was well past nine, and we still
lingered in the box-cluttered living room.

Eventually, Liam drained his beer, sat up, and looked

around the room. "Well, since you’re all still here, I guess
now we get to start unpacking."

"What’s this ‘we’ shit?" Scott said. "I just agreed to get

it in here. The rest is all yours."

"Yeah," Casey said, pulling up his sleeve to check his

watch. "And look at the time. I’d better get going."

"Lazy asses," Liam laughed as everyone made their

excuses and started towards the door. Goodbyes were said
and within minutes, they were gone.

Liam closed the door behind them and leaned against

it for a second, looking up and mouthing 'thank God'.

I laughed. "Now that you’re done working them into

the ground, you’re ready for them all to be gone?"

"Hardly." He pushed himself off the door and put his

121

hands on my hips. Kissing my neck, he said, "But I’ve been
waiting all damned day to get you alone."

"Don’t want to wait to christen your new bedroom?"

"Why stop at the bedroom?" he murmured, sliding his

hands under my shirt. "There aren’t very many rooms in this
place…" He lifted my shirt over my head. "But I fully intend
to christen every last one of them with you."

I closed my eyes as his lips again descended onto my

neck. "I’ll christen every room in this damned building with
you if you keep touching me like that."

122

Twenty One

The following night, Liam and I kicked back on his

couch in the partly-unpacked living room after an evening of
emptying and collapsing boxes, all the while talking about
life and jobs.

"So how long have you been bartending, anyway?" I

asked as we lounged on the couch.

"Fifteen years," he said. "Waited tables until the law

would let me behind the bar, and never left."

"Really? You like it that much?"

"Good money, fun job." He shrugged. "What’s not to

love?"

"Explains how you’ve gotten so good at it," I said with

a wink.

He gestured dismissively. "Doesn’t take much to be

good at it. Just throwing drinks together and trying to
remember not to hit stupid people with bottles." He sipped
his drink. "Hell, once you learn to pour a shot, it’s easy."

"How hard can that be? Shot glass, pour, done."

He laughed. "I mean pouring a shot without the shot

glass. Takes some practice, but it’s not hard."

"So it’s not exact, then?"

"Not exact?" He scoffed, putting his hand to his chest

and feigning offense. "If I pour a shot, I guarantee you it is
precisely one ounce." Then he grinned and stood. "Come on,
I’ll show you how to do it."

I followed him into the kitchen. He pulled a shot glass

and a rocks glass out of a cabinet, then reached under the
counter and retrieved a fifth of Jack Daniels. Rifling around in

123

a drawer, he found a clear plastic pour spout, the long-
necked kind that all the bottles had at Wilde’s.

"Ah, there’s the trick, then." I folded my arms and

rested my hip against the counter.

"This thing?" He eyed me as he unscrewed the

bottlecap  and  replaced  it  with  the  pour  spout.  "Pfft.  All  it
does is make sure they all pour at the same speed. You still
have  to  know  when  to  stop.  Now  watch  and  learn."  In  one
smooth, practiced motion, he turned the bottle, poured some
of  the  amber  liquid  into  the  rocks  glass,  and  set  it  back  on
the counter.

He held up the glass. "So, how much do you want to

bet that’s exactly one ounce?"

I laughed. "I’m not betting against a pro. Now prove

it."

Smirking, he poured its contents into the shot glass,

and I’ll be damned if it didn’t stop precisely flush with the
rim.

"Impressive," I said, grinning.

"Just takes practice," he said. "Want to try it?"

I shrugged. "Why not?"

He slid the bottle towards me.

"Sure you don’t want me practicing with something a

bit cheaper? You know, like, water? Or maybe that swill you
call coffee?"

His eyes twinkled mischievously. "Where’s the fun in

that?" He threw the shot back, then grimaced and shook his
head. "Ugh, how can you drink that shit?"

"What’s wrong with Jack Daniels?"

He grimaced again. "Fucking hell. I need something

else to get rid of that taste."

I snickered. "I can help you with that."

"A drink, you dirty bastard." He rolled his eyes, then

reached into the cabinet and pushed a few bottles around,
furrowing his brow as he searched.

"I thought bartenders weren’t supposed to drink on

the job."

"Not on the job, no," he said. "But unless you’re

paying me, I’m not at work, which means I’ll drink as much
as I damn well please, especially—ah ha!" He pulled out a
bottle of Bacardi. "That’s the stuff."

124

"Oh God, and you turn your nose up at Jack?"
"Damn right I do," he said. "There isn’t enough Coke

in the world to drown out that taste." Nodding towards the
rocks glass as he rifled around in the drawer for another pour
spout, he said, "Go ahead. Give it a try."

I started to pick up the bottle, but he said, "It’s easier

if you hold it this way." He lifted the Bacardi, turning it in his
hand so I could see how he held it. "Don’t choke the bottle."

I laughed. "So now I’m choking it?"

"You’re strangling it, you murderer." He nodded

towards the bottle in his hand. "Try it like this."

I tried to imitate the way he held it, but it was

awkward at first.

"Here, let me show you." He set the Bacardi down and

stood behind me, putting his hand over mine. "Put your palm
against the neck, lay your index finger along the spout, and
just  let  the  rest  of  your  fingers  fall  naturally  into  place."  He
guided my hand. "Then you turn it over, count off a couple of
seconds  in  your  head  while  it  pours,  and  then  twist  it  to  let
the spout cut off the flow before you right it."

"How the hell is something like pouring a drink so

damned complicated?" I asked, chuckling.

He kissed the side of my neck. "That’s why they leave

these things to professionals."

"Like you?"

"Exactly. Now give it a try." His hand left mine, but his

other came to rest on my hip.

Under his amused watch, I turned the bottle over and

poured some of the whiskey into the rocks glass, counting
two seconds in my head just like he directed. Trying to
imitate what he had done earlier, I twisted the bottle to stop
the flow, but still managed to get some on the counter.

"Hey now, that’s alcohol abuse," he laughed. "But,

hell, if it’s that crap, spill all you want."

"There’s no accounting for taste, is there?"
"Well, look at your taste in men."
We  both  chuckled,  then  I  shrugged.  "I  said  I  was  a

coffee snob. Never claimed to have good taste in men or
liquor."

"I can’t say much for my taste in coffee," he said,

pulling another glass out of the cabinet and pouring himself

125

some Bacardi. "But I like to think I have good taste in
liquor."

"What about men?"
He grinned just before taking a drink. "Questionable at

best." He swallowed the rum and looked heavenward, his
expression one of blissful satisfaction. "Oh my God, that’s
good."

I laughed and poured the contents of the rocks glass

into the shot glass. "Hey, that’s not bad," I said as it stopped
just shy of the rim.

He snorted. "Beginner’s luck."
"Whatever. Some of us are just naturally talented, so

fuck off."

"You’re definitely naturally talented." He put an arm

around my waist and kissed the side of my neck. "But I
wasn’t talking about that."

"Dirty bastard."
"I told you before," he murmured, letting his stubble

brush the base of my neck. "The world is full of dirty
bastards, and I am their king." He pushed the shot glass
towards me. "Now drink it and try again."

I lifted the glass. "Are you trying to get me drunk?"
"Are you a lush?"
I snorted. "A lush? Please." Then I threw the shot

back, grimacing as it burned its way down. "Fuck, that’s
good."

He laughed and poured himself a shot of rum. "Now

come on, pour another one." He pounded the shot and
slammed the glass down. "Let’s see you do it right this
time."

"Do it right?" I said. "I thought I did pretty damned

good the first time around."

"Yeah, but let’s see you do it after you have a few

drinks in you."

"Hey now, my motor skills are lacking enough when

I’m sober," I said.

His hand snaked around my waist and he kissed just

below my ear. "I don’t know, I haven’t noticed anything
lacking."

"Just wait 'til you see me drunk." I turned around to

kiss him.

126

"I look forward to it," he laughed.

I picked up the bottle of Jack Daniels. My second

attempt wasn’t quite as successful; by the time I’d filled the
shot glass with what I’d poured into the rocks glass, almost
half a shot remained.

"See?" he said. "Beginner’s luck."

"Quit gloating." I threw back the contents of the rocks

glass, then the shot glass. "Just means I ended up with more
out of the bottle than in."

"Just means you don’t have the finesse to pour it

perfectly accurately every time," he said.

"You’ve had a decade and a half of practice. That was

only my second try."

"And you’ll keep trying until you get it right," he said.

I raised an eyebrow. "You planning to match me shot

for shot until I get it right?"

"Nope. I’m going to match you shot for shot until you

can’t pour it at all."

"And then what?"

He gestured down the hall. "Take you to bed and fuck

the hell out of you."

I laughed, almost dropping the bottle of Jack Daniels.

"Then you might as well take me there now," I said.
"Because by the time I can’t see straight, you’ll be passed
out."

"You’re talking shit about drinking with a bartender,

Jon," he said. "You try to drink me under the table, I’ll still
be sober enough to drive you to the hospital when the
alcohol poisoning kicks in."

"We’ll see about that." I poured another shot, this

time straight into the shot glass.

"Or maybe," he said, pouring his own drink into the

rocks glass. "I’ll just do a few more shots, then take you to
bed and fuck the hell out of you."

I lifted my glass. "I’ll drink to that."

Giving me a mouthwatering grin and a devilish wink,

he clinked his glass against mine. "Cheers."

127

Twenty Two

"So was this just some ploy to get me into bed?" I

asked as we stumbled over each other’s feet on the way into
his bedroom.

"Did it work?" His words were a little slurred. I couldn’t

tell if it was alcohol or arousal that caused it, nor could I tell
which made my head spin, but when he pressed his hips
against mine, I was willing to bet the alcohol had little to do
with it. He was rock hard and so was I, and the slightest
brush of his cock against mine took my breath away.

"You could have just said ‘come to bed and fuck me.’"
"In that case," he said, grasping the front of my shirt

and pulling me towards the bed. "Come to bed and fuck me."
We tumbled into bed together, kissing passionately.

"See how easy that was?" I laughed as he rolled me

onto my back.

Running his fingers through my hair, he said, "So you

know how to pour a shot—" He sat up and pulled his shirt
off. "You’re mildly drunk." He kissed me and reached for my
belt. "And now I get to have my way with you. Seems like a
win-win situation."

I unbuckled his belt. "The lesson was fun, I’ll give you

that."

"See?" He leaned down to kiss me. "Hang around with

me long enough, and you might learn something."

"So you don’t mind teaching an amateur like me

some of your secrets?"

He kissed his way down to my neck. "As if you didn’t

already know some of my secrets."

"Yeah, but not your trade secrets."

128

Kissing just beneath my ear, he slurred, "You won’t

tell anyone, will you?"

Playing with his nipple ring, I said, "Tell anyone what?"

"Good man," he laughed.

"Your secrets are safe with me," I said.

"Not sure I can say the same about my clothing or

furniture."

"All replaceable."

"And all well worth damaging if it means fucking you

in the process," he said in a hoarse whisper. He nuzzled my
neck, the delicious coarseness of his stubble awakening
every nerve the Jack Daniels had numbed. Black coffee and a
cold shower couldn’t have sobered me up faster than Liam’s
touch.

He kissed me as he unbuttoned my shirt. Then his

hand drifted down my bare chest and abs. I pulled him closer
as he unzipped my jeans and I shivered when he wrapped
his fingers around my cock.

He stroked me slowly, squeezing on the upstroke,

releasing slightly on the downstroke, and all the while, he
whispered against the side of my neck, "You drive me out of
my mind, Jon. I’ve never been as turned on as I am every
time I’m in bed with you. Just like this."

I closed my eyes and moaned, equally aroused by

what he said as what he did.

In a low, growl, he said, "I go fucking insane when

you’re not here, but when you are, I can’t even think
straight—" He paused, taking a sharp breath. "Because there
are so many things I want to do to you." His hand moved a
little faster, making me gasp.

My entire body trembled as if his lips and fingers

released lightning bolts under my skin. "Oh my God, Liam…"

"And when I do get you into bed," he continued,

pausing to run his tongue along my earlobe. "It’s all I can do
to decide what I want to do to you. Fucking hell, you make
me crazy, Jon…"

I sucked in a breath, willing myself not to come. I was

too turned on to last much longer, but way too horny for this
to be over yet.

He kissed me deeply, then whispered, "You’re as

turned on as I am, aren’t you?"

129

Moaning softly, I tried to speak, but I couldn’t even

breathe. His touch made speech impossible, but when my
cock twitched in his hand and he released a ragged breath
against my skin, there was no need for words.

Liam wasn’t finished, though. "Jesus, there’s so much

I  want  to  do  to  you,  Jon."  He  kissed  his  way  down  to  my
neck,  stroking  my  cock  faster,  squeezing  harder. "I  want  to
suck your cock, but then I can’t be inside you." He flicked his
tongue  just  above  my  collarbone.  "I  want  to  fuck  you,  but
then  I  can’t  taste  you."  He  kissed  the  underside  of  my  jaw
and moved his hand faster still, the overwhelming sensations
making my eyes water. Whispering in my ear, he said, "And
I want to make you come, but I don’t want it to be over yet."

Choking on my own voice, I managed, "You’re going

to make me come."

"I know." He made no effort to bring me back from the

brink. "I know, and I’m not going to stop until you do."

I gasped, my back arching off the bed as my balls

tightened  and  my  vision  blurred,  but  still  I  was  a  breath
away  from  an  orgasm.  I  was  on  the  edge,  my  body
screaming  for  release,  but  something  just  beyond  my  own
awareness kept me from letting go just yet.

"I don’t want it to be over," Liam said, his voice

strained and unsteady as if he was on that edge with me.
"But nothing turns me on more—nothing in the world, Jon—
than watching your face when I make you come."

And in that instant, as if I’d been waiting for those

precise words, I came.

"Oh my fucking God that’s incredible…"
It took a moment to realize the words weren’t mine,

but Liam’s, his voice the only thing anchoring me in reality as
oblivion took over.

His hand slowed, then finally stopped, and in its turn,

so too did my orgasm. I took a deep breath, wondering how
long it had been since I’d done so.

"Holy hell, that was intense," I whispered.
"It was fucking hot." He kissed me gently. "God, I love

watching you come."

"Do feel free," I said. "Any time you want."
"Careful what you wish for, Beatty," he murmured.
He dried his hand on a tissue from the bedside table

130

and offered one to me. "I swear to God," he said in a hoarse
whisper. "That almost made me come."

Still trying to catch my breath, I said, "Trust me, we’re

about to get to that part."

He grinned. "Then maybe I should get these clothes

out of your way."

"Me too."
As soon as all of our clothes were out of the way, we

were  back  in  each  other’s  arms,  kissing  passionately.  I
nudged his shoulder with mine, encouraging him to lie back.
As he did, I kissed his neck and shoulder. When I flicked my
tongue  on  that  sweet  spot  above  his  collarbone,  the  shiver
and  goose  bumps  told  me  it  was  as  sensitive  on  him  as  it
was on me.

Kissing my way down his chest, I paused to run my

tongue around his nipple. I picked up the gold hoop with the
tip of my tongue, playing with it as my teeth gently held his
nipple.

"Oh fuck," he moaned, running his fingers through my

hair. "You know exactly how I like that."

Replacing my mouth with my fingers, I moved to his

other  nipple,  again  pulling  the  hoop  between  my  lips  and
gently  holding  his  nipple  with  my  teeth.  Then  I  continued
downward,  trailing  gentle  kisses  along  his  abs.  His  skin
quivered  beneath  my  lips  as  I  kissed  around—but  didn’t
touch—his cock. The bedsheets moved beneath my arm and
I  glanced  up  to  see  them  bunching  in  his  hands.  His  spine
lifted off the bed and every soft kiss jolted him from head to
toe.

Resting my weight on one arm, I closed my fingers

around  his  cock  and  stroked  him  slowly,  just  the  way  he’d
done  to  me:  Squeezing  on  the  upstroke,  releasing  on  the
downstroke.  I  did  this  a  few  times,  then,  on  a  downstroke,
my  mouth  joined,  following  my  hand  almost  to  the  base
before coming back up.

"Holy shit!" He gasped, sitting up suddenly. He fell

back on his elbows, staring down at me. I watched his face
as I ran my tongue around the head of his cock, a shiver of
arousal rippling up my spine as his lips parted in a soundless
groan.

Staring at me with an expression that could only have

131

been  disbelief,  he  ran  his  fingers  through  my  hair,  as  if  he
needed  to  touch  me  to  know  this  was  really  happening.  I’d
always loved giving head, but no one had ever looked at me
like  that,  not  even  in  the  throes  of  an  intense  orgasm.  If
anything  turned  me  on  more  than  what  Liam  did  to  me,  it
was knowing that I could do this to him.

With a deep groan, he let himself sink back to the bed.

"Oh God, Jon," he moaned, his voice edging towards a
whimper, even a sob.

I ran my tongue up the shaft of his cock. "Tell me

what you want."

He took a breath and just as he started to speak, I

deep-throated him, reducing his speech to a gasp. I rose off
him slowly, waited until he was about to speak, and did it
again.

He grasped my hair, holding it with trembling fingers

that did little to hinder my movements; it was as if his mind
wanted me to stop, but his body was having none of it. A
breath became a gasp, an attempt to speak became a moan.
His cock twitched in my mouth as his fingers twitched in my
hair.

With what must have been a tremendous effort, he

finally whispered, "Jon, let me fuck you. Please."

I raised my head. "You know I won’t say no to that." I

moved up to kiss him.

He pulled me down to him, digging his fingers into my

back and kissing me with passionate desperation. "Fuck, I
want you so bad," he breathed between kisses.

I reached for the nightstand and grabbed a condom.

He  sat  up  and  quickly  put  it  on  in  spite  of  his  trembling,
uncooperative  hands.  As  soon  as  it  was  on  and  he’d  put
enough  lube  on  it,  he  kissed  me,  his  hand  on  my  shoulder
telling  me  to  let  him  move  so  he  could  get  behind  me.
Instead,  I  shifted  my  body  weight  and  guided  him  onto  his
back.

As his head fell onto the pillow, he looked up at me,

lips parted with a ragged breath. "Jon…" He closed his eyes,
licking his lips. "Oh my God, I can’t even tell you how turned
on I am."

I smiled and kissed him, then sat up. Slowly, never

taking my eyes off of him, I lowered myself onto his cock.

132

"Oh fuck," he groaned, screwing his eyes shut as I

slowly took him inside me. He held my hips, lifting his to
push himself just a little deeper.

I ran my hands up his sides, stopping on his ribs and

letting my thumbs play with his nipple rings.

"Oh God…" His eyes rolled back and his body writhed

beneath me.

It was tempting to lean down and whisper filthy

fantasies in his ear, to let my voice and body bring him to an
orgasm just as he had done to me, but I couldn’t. The sight
of him below me—face flush with arousal, ribs rising and
falling unsteadily in my hands, muscles trembling at my
touch—was simply too much to pass up.

I moved faster and he put his hands on my hips,

meeting me stroke for stroke, thrusting up as I came down.
"Oh fuck," he moaned. "Oh God, I’m gonna come, I’m—" He
gasped, his back arching and his eyes flying open. Pulling me
down onto him, he cried out, then roared, cursing and calling
my name as his cock pulsed inside me.

For a long moment, he was still. Eyes closed, lips

parted, chest rising and falling with rapid, uneven breaths.
His hands still held my hips, keeping me from moving even if
I wanted to. Finally, his entire body relaxed and he exhaled.

I rose off of him and he sat up to take care of the

condom. As soon as it was gone, he put his arms around me
and we both collapsed onto the bed on our sides.

Trailing his fingertips up and down my arm, he said,

"Maybe tomorrow, I’ll teach you how to make a mixed
drink."

I laughed. "So I’ll drink them and you can take me to

bed?" My head started getting light as the alcohol from
earlier caught up with me.

"Exactly," he said, grinning into a kiss.

"You don’t have to waste money on alcohol to get me

into bed," I said, my voice slurred as lethargy took over.
"Just talk to me like you did earlier, and I’m your slave."

He pulled me a little closer, his tongue lazily

intertwining with mine. "Hmm, I think I like the sound of
that."

Before long, the conversation faded into silent, gentle

kisses. Soon, even those slowed to a halt, and we both

134

Twenty Three

I opened my eyes a split second before the throbbing

in  my  temples  warned  me  not  to,  and  the  onslaught  of
sunlight  crashed  into  the  back  of  my  skull.  Groaning,  I
covered  my  eyes  with  my  hand  and  waited  for  darkness  to
soothe the pain.

Fingers ran up my arm and paused on my shoulder.

"Bit of a hangover?" Liam asked, his voice so low I

could barely hear it.

"Just a little."

"Tell me about it." He shifted beside me, squeezing my

shoulder gently before releasing it. "Coffee?"

"Please."

The mattress moved as he got up. "Even if it’s that

grocery store swill you can’t stand?"

"I’d drink instant at this point."

He laughed softly. "Isn’t that a form of blasphemy?"

"Probably."

I sensed him moving around the room. The muffled

scritch of blinds turning was like nails on a chalkboard, but
when I opened my eyes, the room was darker. Still painfully
bright, but tolerably so. I sat up slowly.

Liam pulled on a pair of boxers and headed for the

door. "I’ll be right back." A few minutes later, he returned
with coffee. He handed one to me and sat cross-legged on
the bed.

"I haven’t been hungover in ages," I said. "I forgot

how much it sucks." I took a sip, grimacing at the bitter,
watered-down coffee. Liam was right, I was a coffee snob.

135

"I don’t usually get hungover," he said, rubbing his

temple gingerly. "But I usually don’t drink that much that
fast, either."

I laughed. "Didn’t seem like you were all that drunk to

me."

He grinned. "Trust me, I’d have to drink most of that

damned bottle before I had any problems in that
department."

"You mean, even if I get you drunk, you’ll still be an

insatiable horny bastard?"

"Absolutely." He raised his coffee cup in a mock toast.

I rolled my eyes and sighed melodramatically. "Liam

Sable, what ever am I going to do with you?"

He shrugged. "Get me drunk and fuck me?"

I paused, pretending to give it a great deal of thought.

"Okay, I can live with that." I sipped my coffee again, then
grimaced. "But before we do this again, would you get some
proper coffee? How can you drink this shit?"

He laughed. "This coming from the man who drinks

Jack Daniels straight up?"

"Tastes better than this crap," I said.

"Yeah, and as soon as you finish that, you’ll be asking

for another cup, so it can’t be that bad."

"Only because I’m hungover."

He laughed. "Most people have beer goggles for other

people, not coffee."

"Desperate times," I said with a flippant shrug.

"Desperate measures."

"Amen to that." He took a sip, then said, "Sometimes

the headache is well worth it, though."

"I’ll drink to that." As I thought about the night before,

it occurred to me that I’d never been with someone who was
actually  fun  when  he  was  drinking.  Craig  was  an  absolute
idiot when he was drunk. Two or three beers and he couldn’t
keep his mouth shut; two or three more, and he was liable to
start  a  fight.  That  was  probably  the  one  thing  I  did  pick
fights  about  when  we  were  together.  I  hated  it  when  he
drank, but I was afraid to leave him alone when he did.

"What’s wrong?"

I shook my head. "Nothing. Just thinking."

"About?"

136

"My ex, actually."

He chuckled, but it was a nervous sound. "The

headache remind you of him?"

"You could say that." I sipped my coffee again. "I was

just thinking that I couldn’t stand being with him when he
drank, but being around you when you’re drinking is actually
fun."

He leaned forward and kissed me, stubble grazing my

chin as he did. "You’re rather fun when you’re drunk too."

I laughed, but in the back of my mind, something

about  this  situation  simultaneously  reassured  and  unnerved
me.  I  liked  the  fact  that  Liam  was  a  better  lover,  a  better
friend, and a better  man than Craig. I was unnerved by the
very same thing. I’d told him all along I didn’t want anything
serious,  but  the  more  I  got  to  know  him,  the  less  I  could
imagine being anywhere but here.

Sharing grocery store swill coffee and a hangover with

Liam was more pleasant than some of the best times I’d had
with Craig.

Absently swirling my coffee as I would a glass of wine,

I said, "How much advance notice do you need to give to
take a few days off from work?"

He looked at me over his cup, eyebrows lifting.

"Depends on how busy the club is. Why?"

I paused, taking a sip and rolling it around just to give

my  mouth  something  to  do  before  I  actually  said  what  was
on my mind. It didn’t matter how weak and watery it was, it
gave  me  an  excuse  not  to  speak  for  a  moment.  Finally,  I
swallowed  it  and  looked  into  the  nearly  empty  cup.  "I’m
going up to Vancouver next weekend. Friday, Saturday, and
Sunday." Raising my eyes, I said, "Want to go?"

He took a sip and seemed to do the same thing, rolling

it around for a long moment as his eyes fixated on
something invisible. Then he nodded. "Yeah, that sounds like
fun." He grinned. "The boss owes me a weekend off
anyway."

I smiled, oddly relieved that he’d agreed to go. In

some part of my mind, I knew there was a possibility he
couldn’t because of his job, but I wasn’t sure if he’d want to
go. But he did.

"I already have a reservation," I said.

137

"I’ve never been there," he said. "How far is it?"

"About three hours, depending on traffic."

"I need a passport for that, don’t I?"

"Do you have one?"

He nodded and gestured towards the stack of boxes

beside his dresser. "It’s in one of those. I’ll find it, don’t
worry."

"You’d better," I said. "Or I’ll have to leave you

behind."

He trailed his fingers up my arm and leaned in to kiss

me. "Don’t you dare."

138

Twenty Four

Craig and I said little as we tried on various styles of

tuxedos,

shirts,

cummerbunds,

and

obnoxiously

uncomfortable clip-on bowties. I tried to ignore the unspoken
questions hanging between us, but I knew it was only a
matter of time.

"I really like the vests better." Craig fussed with a

cummerbund. "But the bride insists." He muttered something
else under his breath.

"I don’t know, I rather like cummerbunds myself." I

shrugged, buttoning a tux shirt that was much, much more
comfortable than the last two I’d tried on.

Craig looked up, our eyes meeting in the safety of our

reflections. Something caused his eyebrows to furrow and his
lips to purse, as if a thought wanted to be spoken, but he let
it go. "Well, then you and Rebecca must have similar tastes."
Then he caught himself, his face coloring.

I chuckled and put on one of the cummerbunds. "I

know what you meant."

He laughed nervously, but said nothing for a moment.

He reached back to unbuckle his cummerbund. "Christ, how
do you get this damned thing off?"

"Here, let me." I pushed his hand away and

unfastened it.

He set it on the table, shaking his head. "Try doing it

that easily when it’s behind your own—" He stopped as I
reached back and unbuckled my own just as quickly.

"What can I say?" I handed it to him. "I’ve had a bit of

practice."

139

He gave me a puzzled look, then rolled his eyes.

"Right, I forgot about your man’s uniform."

I smiled, but didn’t say anything. A glimpse in the

mirror confirmed my suspicion that my cheeks had darkened
slightly, so I let the color in my face speak for me.

We were quiet for a while. He fussed with another

cummerbund  while  I  glared  at  a  bowtie  in  the  mirror  as  I
tried to straighten it. A clip-on seemed cheap and lazy after
watching  Liam  effortlessly  tie  his  so  many  times,  but  he’d
had  practice  and  wore  one  daily.  I  was  going  to  wear  this
thing  once.  Lazy  or  not,  I  wasn’t  learning  to  tie  a  damned
bowtie for one wedding. It was enough of a pain this way.

"So—" Craig cleared his throat. "Are you sure you’re

still okay with being my best man?"

I paused, letting the question bounce around in my

mind for a moment. Was I okay with it? Why wouldn’t I be?
It had been a while since I’d even given it any thought at all.
Now  that  I  did,  the  night  Craig  asked  seemed  like  a  distant
memory,  as  were  my  reservations  about  doing  this.  It  was
suddenly surreal that I had ever had an issue with it.

I shrugged, then smiled. "Yeah, it’s fine."
"Really? I wasn’t sure, you know, after the first couple

of times we talked about it."

"Just took a while to get used to the idea, I guess." A

while, or at least a few nights in bed with Liam.

We went through a few more jackets and shirts,

separating  out  the  ones  that  were simply  too  uncomfortable
or  unsightly  to  even  consider.  Craig  narrowed  it  down  to
three, and I made sure he didn’t see me roll my eyes when
he suggested trying them on again.

"So how are things going with the new man, anyway?"

He shoved a few boxes aside so the salesman would, when
he returned, know which were no longer needed.

"Still keeping things casual, but it’s going well." I met

Craig’s eyes in the mirror, then turned my attention back to
the jacket I had to try on. Again. "Actually, we’re heading to
Vancouver this weekend."

He suddenly stopped moving. "Vancouver?"

"Yeah, you know, that city in Canada?"

"Yes, I know the city," he muttered. He turned his

attention back to the selection of tux coats, but not before I

140

caught  a  glimpse  of  his  Adam’s  apple  bobbing  and  his  brow
pulling  together  above  narrowed  eyes.  I  swallowed.  We’d
gone  to  Vancouver  quite  a  few  times.  I  wondered  if  he  saw
this trip as Liam slowly moving in on territory that was once
his own.

And he would be right. I fully intended to make some

new memories with Liam in that city to paint over the ones
Craig and I had made.

Guilt tried to force its way into my mind, but I pushed

it back. You left, Craig. This is me moving on.

"Well, if you guys are traveling together," he said

quietly. "That sounds a bit more than casual."

"It’s just a weekend trip," I said.

"And I seem to recall that you and I moved in together

shortly after our first weekend trip." There was a
disconcerting sharpness in his voice. Disapproval? Jealousy?

"Craig, I’ve only been seeing him for a few weeks."

"I know, but—"

"And you’re not exactly in a position to lecture me

about rushing things." I gave him a pointed look, and he
glared at me, then exhaled and nodded.

"Okay, fair enough." He took his bowtie off and

dropped it in the box. "So do you think it’s going to get
serious with him?"

I gave him a puzzled look. "I… maybe. I don’t know.

Why?"

"Just curious." He shrugged. "If he’s going to be

around for a while, I’d like to meet him one of these days."

"I’m sure you will eventually. And you’ve seen him—" I

caught  myself.  Our  eyes  met  and  I  got  the  feeling  he  was
thinking  the  same  thing.  We  both  looked  away  quickly,
clearing our throats.

He picked up two of the coats he’d already tried on.

"So which do you prefer?"

I knew he was deliberately changing the subject

before we started discussing that night, and I followed suit
without hesitation. I nodded towards the double-breasted
coat in his left hand. "That one’s more comfortable."

He nodded. "I think I like it better too. Any preference

on the pants?"

I like Liam’s better. Preferably on my bedroom floor.

141

"Not really."

We finally managed to wrap up the fitting, keeping the

conversation to safe, mundane subjects.

Until we left, anyway.
"So you’re really into this guy, huh?" he said as we

walked out of the store into the mall.

I nodded. "You were right. I just needed to get out

and meet someone."

He avoided my eyes. "Oh. Well, that’s good. That’s

great."

I raised an eyebrow. "Is it?"
He looked up. "Yeah, of course." His smile was as

forced as I’d ever seen it. "Really, Jon, I’m glad to see you
getting out and moving on." With a laugh that didn’t echo in
his eyes, he added, "Getting over me."

I stopped, putting my hands in my coat pockets.

"Craig, what’s wrong? A few weeks ago, you were practically
begging me to—"

"I know, I know." He put his hands up and shook his

head. "It’s just, I guess it’s weird seeing you with someone
new. Just takes some getting used to, that’s all." He laughed
dryly. "Guess now I know what it was like for you."

Not even close, jackass. I bit my tongue. You had six

months to get used to the idea.

He clapped my shoulder. "Come on, I’ll buy you a beer

before we go. You deserve it after putting up with that
bullshit for the last two hours."

I glanced at my watch. "No can do. I’m running late as

it is."

An inquisitive look flickered across his face, but

enlightenment quickly followed. He smiled—a thin-lipped look
that suggested a clenched jaw beneath—and nodded. "Okay.
Well. Thanks for putting up with all of that." He gestured
towards the tux rental shop.

"No problem," I said. "I’ll see you later, then."

He nodded and extended his hand. I shook it, we

exchanged smiles, and when I released his hand, he held on
just a split second longer.

As I turned to walk away, I didn’t look back, but I

caught a glimpse of him in a store window.

He was watching me leave.

142

Twenty Five

On Friday morning, I picked Liam up at his brother’s

house to head up to Vancouver for the weekend. Scott lived
in Everett, which was an hour or so north of Seattle, so at
least it was on the way.

When I rang the doorbell, Amy answered. "Hi, Jon,"

she said as she let me in. "Liam’s in the garage with Scott."
She gestured for me to follow her down the hall.

"They’re not going to make me tell them apart, are

they?" I asked.

She laughed. "Knowing them, probably. But it’s easy

in the garage."

"How’s that?"

"The one who’s using technical terms and looks at

home is Liam," she said. "The one who looks confused and
doesn’t have any grease on his hands is Scott."

"Noted," I laughed. When we walked into the garage,

both brothers looked up from under the hood of a car, and I
instantly  knew  which  was  Liam.  Though  Amy’s  description
was  accurate—Liam  was  elbows-deep  in  the  engine  while
Scott  stood  back  with  his  arms  across  his  chest,  looking
confused—it  was  the  look  on  Liam’s  face  that  gave  him
away. He smiled and his eyes said you’re here.

"Well, looks like your ride is here," Scott said.

Liam smirked. "Yeah, and he’s driving, too."

"Damn it, Liam, I don’t want to know."

Chuckling, Liam grabbed a rag and wiped some of the

grease off his hands. He went to the sink and scrubbed the
rest off.

"So you’re heading up to Canada?" Scott said to me.

143

I nodded. "Vancouver."

Amy folded her arms across her chest. "You two aren’t

running off to elope, are you?"

Liam and I laughed. As he dried his hands, he said,

"Come on, Amy, you know if I ever went up there to get
married, I’d drag your husband’s sorry ass with me to be my
best man."

"More like stand-in," she muttered.

"Hey," Liam said, giving her a good-natured glare.

"That was only for the rehearsal."

She laughed and said to me, "I swear, sometimes I

wonder if they still switch off just to give Scott a break from
me."

"That’s a damned good idea!" Scott said.

"You never know," I said. "Maybe they have."

"I wouldn’t put it past them," she said. "Though I’d

like to think I’d be able to tell them apart by now."

"Trust me, Amy," Liam said. "I think a few things

might give me away." Before they could reply, he said to me,
"We should probably roll out before traffic gets ugly."

"Ready when you are."

"Take care of my baby while I’m gone," Liam said to

Scott, nodding towards his bike in the corner of the garage.

"I always do," Scott said. "Have a good time, you

guys. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t—" He stopped, wrinkling
his nose. "Nevermind, just have a good time."

Liam and I laughed and headed for the car. He

dropped a backpack in the trunk and got into the passenger
seat.

"Thanks for meeting me here," he said. "I hope it

wasn’t too far out of the way."

"Hardly." I backed out of the driveway. "We’re taking

I-5, so we’d be passing through here anyway."

"Good point."

"You always leave your bike with him when you go out

of town?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I don’t like leaving it in the

complex when I’m gone. Even the new place. It’s a fairly
safe part of town, but I’m always afraid of it getting stolen or
fucked up."

"Anyone ever messed with it before?"

144

He shifted in his seat and I thought he might have

shivered. Clearing his throat, he said, "Not this one, but my
last one. It happens. So I just leave it with Scott."

"He doesn’t tinker with it, does he?"

Liam laughed. "Oh God, no. That man won’t even

change his own oil if he can avoid it."

"Not mechanically inclined?"

"Not in the least. One of the only two ways people can

tell us apart: I fuck with cars, he fucks women."

I snorted. "I hope he only fucks one woman these

days."

"Are you kidding? He worships that woman. I don’t

think he’s even aware that other women still walk this
Earth."

"Good man," I said with a nod of approval. "Okay, I’m

dying of curiosity. Tell me about this prank you two pulled at
your brother’s wedding."

He laughed. "Well, it was just the rehearsal. She

always said she couldn’t tell us apart—hell, no one can—so
we decided to mess with her head."

I glanced at him, raising my eyebrows.

Still snickering, he went on. "We went through the

whole damned rehearsal that way. Right up until the minister
said ‘you may kiss the bride’."

"Liam, you didn’t…"

"No, no," he said. "I made her think I was going to,

then backed off and said, ‘I can’t do this. I just can’t.’ She
was horrified, but I think she almost died when Scott
elbowed me out of the way and said ‘let me show you how to
do this, idiot’. He grabbed her, dipped her, and kissed her."

I laughed. "I assume she figured it out at that point?"

"It took her a second. When he let her back up, she

was pretty shell-shocked. Then she looked at him, looked at
me, and rolled her eyes. I thought her whole family was
going to have collective heart failure."

"The hazards of marrying a twin, I guess," I said.

"Exactly." He chuckled. "Even our mom can’t tell us

apart most of the time. When we were in high school, she
used to joke that the only way she could tell us apart was to
see if we had an arm around a boy or a girl."

"So I take it she accepted that you’re gay?"

145

"Oh hell yeah." He gestured dismissively. "Actually,

she thought Scott was the gay one, so if anything, she was
just surprised that it was me and not him."

"What gave her that idea?"

"Stereotypes."

"Oh?"

He nodded. "I was the one who was into cars and

bikes, Scott was the well-dressed, perfectly groomed one
who didn’t seem to notice the girls." He snickered. "Our poor
mom. About two weeks after I came out to her, my brother
told her he’d knocked a girl up."

"Christ, good thing you guys weren’t triplets. I can

only imagine what a third brother would have done."

He laughed. "That’s exactly what she said, actually.

After my brother told her his girlfriend was pregnant, she
looked at him, looked at me, and said, ‘If you two had been
triplets, one of you probably would have murdered someone
by now’."

"You two must have been quite a handful."

"Nah, we weren’t that bad," he said. "I mean, aside

from  the  being  gay  and  being  a  teenaged  father  thing.  We
were  both  pretty  good  kids.  It’s  not  like  we  ever—  watch
your speed, there’s a cop up there."

I craned my neck and sure enough, the front end of a

white  Crown  Victoria  was  just  barely  visible  in  one  of  the
turnouts.  I  took  my  foot  off  the  gas  and  let  the  car  ease
down to a mile or two over the speed limit. After I’d passed
the cop, I glanced in my rearview a few times to make sure
he  hadn’t  come  after  me,  and  when  I  was  satisfied  that  he
wasn’t going to move, I said, "Thank you. Anyway, go on."

"Right, so," he said. "It’s not like we were ever

druggies or anything like that. Good grades, didn’t mouth off
at our parents—"

"You?" I scoffed. "You of all people didn’t mouth off at

your parents?"

He laughed. "Well, no more than your average

teenager."

"Uh huh, I believe that."

"That sounded sarcastic."

"It was."

"Fuck you."

146

I winked at him. "Patience, my lad, we’ll be there in a

couple of hours."

"A couple of hours?" he whined theatrically. "But I

can’t wait that long."

"Tough," I laughed. "I’d drive faster, but I doubt that’s

the only cop out on the road today."

"Good point." He paused. "Are we there yet?"

"No."

"Are we there yet?"

"No."

"Are we—"

"Want to walk?" I shot him a playful glare and we both

laughed. I put my hand on his leg, squeezing gently, and he
rested his hand on mine.

We drove in silence for a few minutes. Then he looked

at me. "So when did you figure it out? That you were gay?"

"Sophomore year in high school." I glanced over my

shoulder  at  my  blind  spot  before  changing  lanes  to  pass
some  jackass  who  was  going  twenty  below  the  speed  limit.
As  I  pulled  into  the  passing  lane  and  accelerated,  I  said,
"Was never interested in girls, couldn’t figure out what all the
hype was about. All of my friends were looking to score this
or that girl, and none of them appealed to me."

"Until you had your first crush?"
Pulling back into the right lane, I nodded. "Exactly.

Man,  I  will  never  forget  that  day.  I  walked  into  my  English
class  and  there  he  was."  I  ran  my  tongue  over  my  lips,
remembering  the  first  time  I  ever  laid  eyes  on  Christian
Bailey. "He’d just moved into the area, and ended up  in my
class. As soon as I saw him, I knew, without a doubt, that I
was gay."

"Was he?"
I shook my head. "Nah. But he helped me figure it

out, even if he never knew."

"That’s about how it was with me too," he said. "First

guy I ever had a crush on never knew about it, but it sure
turned my world on its ass."

"Exactly." I changed lanes again, cursing under my

breath at all the people who didn’t seem to understand that
the speed limit was seventy, not seven.

"Christ, has everyone forgotten how to drive today?"

147

he said as we breezed past the offending minivan.

"Apparently," I said.
Cupping his hands around his mouth, he shouted in

the other car’s direction, "It’s the little pedal on the right! Put
your fucking foot on it!" We both howled with laughter.

As we drove on, he said, "So were you ever curious

about women?"

I shrugged. "I was curious, but not in the rabid, dying

to get into her pants way that all of my classmates were."

"Ever date a girl?"
"I had a girlfriend for a while in high school, but it was

probably more of a close friendship than anything. Fooled
around a little, but she didn’t seem to want to go any further
and neither did I." I glanced at him. "What about you?"

"I dated a couple of girls," he said. "Slept with one,

but she didn’t do much for me. Looking back, it might have
just been because we were both kids. You know, clueless
virgins."

"So you think it would do more for you now?"
"Nah," he said. "I mean, I think we’d both have a

better idea of what we were doing, and we’d waste an hour
or so instead of five minutes, but in the end…" He shook his
head. "Just not into women." He paused, then laughed.
"Ironically, at the time, I thought I just wasn’t into sex."

"You? Not into sex?" I looked at him and we

exchanged grins. Putting my hand on his leg again, I said,
"Yeah. That’ll be the day."

Conversation meandered between the past, present,

and  future,  with  the  occasional  pause  to  comment  on  the
slowpoke  drivers  we  left  in  our  dust  or  the  amusing
billboards alongside the interstate.

As we neared the border, traffic ground to a halt.
"Looks like we’re not the only ones with this idea," he

said, scowling at the endless line of cars in front of us.

"This isn’t that bad. I’ve seen worse on the floating

bridges." The bridges connecting Seattle to the cities across
Lake Washington were traffic purgatory in the afternoons.

"Good point," he said. "That’s why I avoid those

damned things like the plague."

"Ah well," I said, tapping my fingers on the steering

wheel. "We’ll get there eventually." My own nonchalance

148

about  this  sort  of  gridlock  surprised  me.  I’d  spent  plenty  of
time in similar traffic jams and usually had little patience for
it,  but  today,  I  was  damn  near  welcoming  it.  For  once,  the
endless  line  of  cars  waiting  to  cross  the  border  didn’t  seem
like an obstacle keeping us from our destination. If anything,
it  was  just  a  means  to  draw  out  this  time  together  without
the  interruption  of  parking,  getting  out,  and  checking  in.  I
was certainly dying to get into our hotel and take him to bed,
but  for  now,  with  Liam  for  company,  I  was  content  to  let
time slow down for a little while.

We spent the time shooting the breeze about

everything  and  nothing,  talking  about  family,  jobs,  and
whatever  else  came  to  mind.  We  laughed,  we  flirted,  we
talked.  Sitting  in  the  middle  of  a  traffic  jam  of  biblical
proportions, I could think of nowhere else I’d rather be.

Eventually, the white Peace Arch came into view. It

was  a  monument  dedicated  to  the  longstanding  peace
between  Canada  and  the  United  States,  but  to  anyone
traveling  between  the  countries,  it  had  long  ago  become  a
symbol  of  "thank  God,  we’re  finally  going  to  get  out  of  this
fucking traffic".

"So how often do you come up here?" he asked as we

inched closer to the border.

"Couple times a year," I said. "Gives me a few days

away from home." I didn’t tell him that every trip except the
last  one  had  been  with  Craig.  I’d  hoped  coming  up  alone
would  help  me  move  on,  but  the  city  remembered  him
almost  as  well  as  I  did.  Vancouver  couldn’t  have  poured
more  salt  in  the  wounds  if  someone  had  spray-painted
Craig’s name on every wall and window. This time, I hoped I
could put a new face with these familiar streets.

"Why Vancouver?" he said. "I mean, doesn’t it seem a

bit redundant to vacation from Seattle in a city that’s almost
exactly like Seattle?"

"If I wanted to go someplace exotic, I would," I said.

"I just like getting away from town once in a while, even if
the scenery isn’t that much different."

"I hear that," he said quietly. I couldn’t be sure, but I

thought he shuddered. Before I could speak, though, he
nodded towards the border patrol that was coming into view.
"Think they’d get upset if I was giving you head when we

149

pulled up?"

I shivered at the thought. I hadn’t even realized how

horny  I  was  until  he  said  that,  and  my  traffic  jam  Zen
immediately  evaporated  into  impatience.  Move  it,  fuckers,
get out of my way!

"You never know," he said. "Might give them

something to break up the monotony of their day."

I laughed. "If they were smart, they’d ask to be next

in line."

"In that case, maybe I should wait to see if the guard

is good-looking."

"Or male."

"That too." He ran his index finger up the side of my

leg. "Or, maybe I’ll just wait until we get to the hotel."

I sucked in a breath. "You know it’s still another forty-

five minutes after we cross the border, right?"

He grinned. "That’s assuming there’s minimal traffic,

right?"

"Yes."

"Good," he said. "Then I have plenty of time to tease

you and drive you insane."

"You’re evil."

"And you’re driving, so there’s nothing you can do

about it."

"Do you want me to stop this car?"

"You are stopped."

"Damn it," I said. "That threat works much better on

the freeway."

He laughed. "Exactly. It’s an empty threat. Mine,

however…" His finger ran along the inside of my thigh this
time. "…is not."

I looked at him, his devilish expression making my

mouth water. Then I looked at the line of cars in front of me.

All of you. Out of my way. Now!

150

Twenty Six

We dropped our overnight bags somewhere between

the door and the bed. Shoes, jackets, and shirts fell behind
us like a trail of breadcrumbs to eventually lead us back into
the real world, but we weren’t going back to that world any
time soon. Forget seeing the rest of the city: I had Liam’s
lips against my neck and his hand around my cock.

Hellish traffic had turned the forty-five minute drive

from the border to Vancouver into two hours of stop-and-go,
and  Liam  had  taken  full  advantage  of  it,  teasing  me
mercilessly  the  entire  time.  Whether  it  was  running  his
fingers  along  my  leg,  or  describing  in  great  detail  all  the
things  he  wanted  to  do  to  me,  or  kissing  the  inside  of  my
wrist, or telling me how much he wanted to watch me come,
he  didn’t  quit.  I  couldn’t  remember  ever  being  so  painfully
turned on and deliciously frustrated for so fucking long.

And now that we were out of the car and our clothes,

he was damn well going to do something about it.

"Fuck me," I whispered. "Fuck me now." I half-

expected  him  to  tease  me  more,  to  drive  me  just  a  little
crazier  before  he  finally  gave  me  what  I  wanted,  but  he
didn’t  protest  at  all.  Instead,  he  got  up  and  grabbed  his
overnight  bag,  going  straight  for  the  pocket  that  had
condoms and lube in it.

He tore the condom wrapper on the way back to the

bed and paused to quickly put it on before rejoining me.

"Get on your knees," he growled as he poured lube

into his hand. "I’ve been dying for this all goddamned day."

"You aren’t the only one," I said, turning as he asked

and shivering when his hands closed around my hips. His

151

cock pressed against me and anticipation made my head
spin. "Oh my God, Liam, fuck me."

His only answer was a ragged breath as his cock

slowly pushed into me. After a few slow, easy strokes, he
said, "Tell me how you want it, Jon."

"Hard," I moaned.

His fingertips trailed up the center of my spine. "Oh,

it’s already hard. You took care of that."

"You know what I mean."

"I do, but I want to hear you say it." He moved from

the hips and ran his fingers up and down my back.

"You fucking tease," I said. His body shifted and his

hand came down beside mine. The other snaked around my
waist and closed around my cock, stroking it slowly as he
moved equally slowly inside me.

"Tell me, Jon," he said against the back of my neck,

his lips and breath brushing my skin. "I want to hear you tell
me…"

"Fuck me. Jesus Christ, fuck me now."

"Do you want me to fuck you hard?" He slammed into

me once, then withdrew slowly. Kissing the side of my neck,
he whispered, "Do you want me to, Jon?" Another violent
thrust. "To fuck you hard and fast?"

"Yes," I pleaded. "Jesus, Liam—"

"Yes, what? Tell me. I want to hear you say it."

"Fuck me hard," I said, my breath catching. "Please."

"How hard?"

"As hard as you can," I moaned.

A soft huff of laughter cooled the back of my neck.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

His stubble scuffed my shoulder. "I don’t know if you

can handle it as hard as I can give it to you."

I clenched my jaw with frustration and arousal. "Try

me."

"I don’t know, I don’t— fuck."
I slammed my hips back into him so hard it almost

knocked both of us off balance. "Harder."

He kissed the back of my shoulder blade. "My

pleasure." With that, he sat up, grabbed my hips, and railed
me. "Oh God," he groaned "Oh God, you feel so fucking

152

good."

I could only shudder in response, digging the heels of

my  hands  into  the  bed  and  pushing  back  against  him,  my
body  pleading  for  everything  my  voice  couldn’t:  Harder.
Faster. More.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked, panting.

Through my teeth, I growled, "Not yet. Fuck. Me.

Harder."

He did, knocking the breath out of my lungs as he

slammed into me harder and faster with each thrust until
pain mingled perfectly with pleasure.

His violent thrusts punctuated his breathless words as

he said, "Oh fucking hell, I’m gonna come, I’m—" He gasped,
pulled my hips against him, and shuddered. "Oh my God…"

He didn’t even give himself time to catch his breath

before he said, "Get on your back." It was somewhere
between a plea and a command, but either way, I wasn’t
arguing. As soon as he pulled out, I rolled onto my back.

Before I’d even laid back, Liam went down on me,

hungrily fucking me with his mouth and stroking me with one
hand. I was already close to coming, but this was going to
send me over the edge in no time flat.

"Oh God," I groaned, reaching for the headboard. "Oh

my God, Liam, holy— oh fuck!" Two fingers slipped inside
me, bending just right to hit the most sensitive spot, and my
vision went completely white.

When I could breathe again, I managed one deep gulp

of air before Liam’s mouth—salty-sweet with the taste of my
orgasm—closed  over  mine.  I  put  my  arms  around  him,
holding  him  against  me  as  I  tasted  myself  on  his  tongue.  A
sheen  of  sweat  dampened  and  cooled  his  skin,  but  his
trembling body radiated heat just as mine did.

"Jesus, that was incredible," he said, still panting.

I brushed away a droplet of sweat running down his

temple. "We should do it again."

His eyes widened. Then he laughed and leaned in to

kiss me again. "Give me a few minutes," he whispered. "And
you’re on."

153

Twenty Seven

We spent Saturday afternoon at Stanley Park, which

covered  a  peninsula  at  one  end  of  the  Lions  Gate  Bridge.  It
was  more  or  less  Vancouver’s  answer  to New York’s  Central
Park, if quite a bit smaller and less crowded. It was an area I
knew well, but Craig  had never wanted to spend much time
in the park. I was content with just walking and enjoying the
scenery; he preferred the city itself.

Liam, on the other hand, didn’t mind at all as we

wandered along the shoreline on the paved multi-use trail.
With his fingers loosely laced between mine, we strolled past
the gently lapping water, talking about anything and nothing.
I had only intended for us to stay in the park for a few hours,
but as the trail wound along the beach and the afternoon sky
warmed with the earliest hints of sunset, neither of us made
any move to leave.

Even as the trail looped back towards the car, we

weren’t in any hurry. Instead, we went off the path and
picked our way along the beach.

"I think I needed this," he said, looking out across the

harbor.

I skipped a rock along the water’s smooth surface.

"What? A walk in the park?"

"Just a weekend away. Out of the city." He slid his

arm around my waist. "A weekend with you."

"Three days of sex on demand," I said. "Can’t imagine

what’s not to like."

He laughed. "It’s sex on demand? Well, hell, maybe

we should stay longer."

"Don’t tempt me," I said.

154

He kissed me gently and we kept walking. "The sun’s

going to be going down soon. I wouldn’t mind sitting here for
a while and watching it."

"No can do," I said.
"What? Why not?"
"Canadian law," I said. "American tourists have to

have a special visa to watch the sunset."

"Right. Of course." He chuckled.
"It’s true. They don’t like sharing it with foreigners."
"Well then, if that’s the case, I say let’s live

dangerously."

We both laughed as we sat on the sand not far from

the  trail.  For  a  long  time,  we  were  silent,  just  watching  the
boats crisscross the otherwise calm water with their rippling
wakes  before  heading  in  for  the  night.  Past  the  water,  the
city  was  stained  with  the  warm  colors  of  the  setting  sun.
Vancouver  may  not  have  been  Paris  or  New  York,  but  given
the view and my present company, it was perfect.

Out of the blue, Liam asked, "So what made you

decide to bring me here with you?"

The question caught me off guard. Clearing my throat

with a single cough of nervous laughter, I said, "Besides the
fact that I didn’t want to leave you for a weekend with no
adult supervision?"

He laughed. "Yes, besides that."
I shrugged, letting the water hold my gaze because I

wasn’t  sure  I  could  look  him  in  the  eye.  Because  I  need  to
remember  this  place  with  someone  else.  Because  I  would
rather  be  with  you  than  not.  Because  I  think  we’ve  both
known  from  the  beginning  that  this  isn’t  as  casual  as  we
intended it to be.

"Jon?"
I cleared my throat again. "Oh, you know, traveling’s

always more fun with someone else."

His fingers ran up and down my arm. "That’s true. It

is."

Neither of us spoke. The tide gently splashed against

the beach to remind me of the silence lingering between us.

And once again it was Liam who broke that silence

with something else that caught me off guard: "I wouldn’t
mind coming back up here." He ran his fingers through my

155

hair. "Maybe next time, we could stay a little longer."

I looked at him then, disbelief making it impossible to

breathe. "Are you—" I swallowed. "Are you serious?"

He nodded. "Why wouldn’t I be?"
We looked at each other in silence for a moment, as if

neither quite knew what to say.

Then he touched my face and whispered, "Come

here." He pulled me into a gentle, heart-stopping kiss. It was
just his lips against mine, his fingers and warm breath
against my face, but the second we made contact,
everything around us ceased to exist.

We barely touched, I barely breathed, and time barely

moved. Even my heartbeat, which thundered in my ears,
seemed to slow down until every. Single. Beat had time to
echo into silence before the next took its place.

As the kiss deepened, I wrapped my arms around him.

He pulled me closer, and every touch of his lips against
mine, every taste of his tongue, brought back memories of a
similar kiss we’d shared one night out on Alki.

The kiss on Alki told me that he wanted me that night.
This kiss resonated with something that didn’t seem

quite so finite.

And when I broke the kiss and met his gaze, the

deepening crimson of daylight only served to intensify the
unmistakable need in his eyes.

"Want to get out of here?" I whispered.
He smiled. "In a minute."
I gave him a puzzled look. "In a minute?"
Pulling me closer, he grinned into my kiss. "I want to

watch the sun go down."

"Can’t watch the sun go down with your eyes closed."
He touched my face. "Details."

156

Twenty Eight

"Why don’t they ever put bathtubs like this in

apartments?" I set my wine glass on the edge and leaned
back against Liam in the hot water.

He put his arm around me, resting his hand on my

chest. "Can you imagine the exorbitant rent they’d charge if
they did? Hell, the fucking extortionists would probably
double the rent for something like this."

I laced my fingers between his. "I don’t know, might

be worth it though."

His wine glass clinked on the tub’s edge. "Yeah, if you

could afford to put water in it after paying the damned rent."

I laughed. "Point taken."

"Especially since if you had a bathtub like this in your

place…" He kissed the side of my neck and murmured,
"You’d get fired from your job."

"Oh really? And why is that?"

He kissed his way up to my ear. "Because we’d never

leave the house."

I turned my head towards him, sliding my free hand

around  the  back  of  his  neck.  Just  before  I  kissed  him,  I
whispered,  "You  know,  there  are  some  things  worth  getting
fired over."

He gently freed his hand from mine and trailed his

fingertips  up  the  side  of  my  neck  as  the  kiss  deepened.  We
held  each  other  that  way  until  I  started  getting  a  cramp  in
my neck, but I wasn’t stopping this any time soon. I sat up
long  enough  to  turn  around  and  face  him.  His  arms  were
around me even before our lips met and he pulled me close
to him.

157

His hand drifted down my side, then closed around my

cock,  making  my  breath  catch.  He  stroked  me  gently  and  I
did  the  same  to  him,  but  it  was  his  kiss  that  held  my
attention, his mouth moving slowly against mine. So slowly.
Almost  painfully  slowly,  as  if  he  wanted  me  to  taste  every
single motion of his lips and tongue. His kiss mesmerized me
so  much  that  my  hand  stopped  moving.  At  some  point,  so
did his.

There will be time for that later. I put my arms around

his neck and let myself get lost in his kiss. It must have been
ages before Liam broke the kiss and looked at me, smiling as
he ran his fingertips down the side of my face. "Maybe we
should take this in the other room?"

I nearly suggested we stay right here a little longer,

but the water had cooled around us, so I nodded and
reached for a towel.

Moments later, Liam’s hand was in my hair and his lips

pressed to mine as we sank onto the bed. Arms around each
other, we continued our unhurried kissing, just touching and
tasting each other like we had all the time in the world. We
moved onto our sides, then I was on top, giving his arms a
rest, but we didn’t stop. I wondered if we’d ever stop. Every
time his tongue met mine, I hoped we wouldn’t.

Like a gathering storm, the hunger between us

intensified  with  each  passing  minute.  The  kisses  deepened.
The  touches  became  more  deliberate  and  desperate.  Every
exhalation  against  my  skin  was  sharper  and  more  ragged
than the last.

Finally, he said in a hoarse, shaky whisper, "I want to

be inside you." His voice sent a shiver up my spine. I kissed
him lightly, then sat up and moved so he could reach for a
condom.

Once it was on and he’d put some lube on it, he didn’t

tell me how he wanted me. Without a word, he put his arms
around me and kissed me again, drawing it out like we had
done all night. Slowly, gently, he eased me onto the bed on
my back

After another long kiss, he sat up, trailing his

fingertips up my inner thigh as he pressed his cock against
me.

"You just have no idea how much you turn me on," he

158

said. Before I could reply, before I could tell him just how
mutual that feeling was, he pushed into me, sliding in just as
slowly as we’d made out all night.

"Oh God," I breathed.

closed

his

eyes,

groaning

softly

before

withdrawing.  I  touched  his  face  and  he  exhaled,  turning  to
kiss  my  palm.  Moving  my  hand  into  his  hair,  I  drew  him
down and held on for dear life when his lips met mine.

We’d had wild sex, we’d had slow sex, but this was

like nothing I’d ever experienced, this contradiction of primal
intimacy.  His  kiss  was  nothing  but  powerful  sensuality,  and
every  touch  of  his  hand  was  alive  with  passionate
tenderness.  Every  stroke  happened  in  slow  motion,  but  the
intensity  rivaled  his  most  violent  thrusts.  The  room  was
nearly  silent,  but  the  air  thrummed  with  cries  we  couldn’t
even whisper.

A shudder straightened his spine and he broke the kiss

with  a  ragged  breath  against  my  lips.  Resting  his  weight  on
his  elbows  he  took  slow,  trembling  strokes,  moaning  as  he
pushed himself deeper inside me. His shoulders bunched and
muscles quivered with exertion, but even as his brow knitted
and  his  lips  pulled  into  a  grimace,  his  eyes  were  locked  on
mine.

Another shudder rippled through him. He threw his

head back and closed his eyes, groaning softly.

I moaned. "Fuck, Liam, that’s perfect…" I screwed my

eyes shut as the sheer intensity made tears well up.

"You’re close, aren’t you?"

I nodded, sucking in a breath as he thrust harder.

"I don’t want to come until you do," he said through

his teeth. "I want to watch—" He gasped. "I want to watch
you come this way, and feel you come this way…"

"Keep…" I exhaled, every deep stroke bringing me

closer and closer to delirium. What he did was perfect, so
perfect that I lost the words to tell him so.

"Look at me, Jon," he pleaded. "Let me see—" He

stopped abruptly when our eyes met, and we both shivered.
Everything intensified as I stared into his pale green eyes
and tried to remember how to breathe. There was no looking
away, no pulling my gaze away from his. The heightening
tension inside me, the ache that demanded release, reflected

159

in his eyes, and I could no longer tell the difference between
what I felt and what I saw.

"Oh God, Jon," he moaned, still holding my gaze even

as his eyebrows lifted and his lips parted. "Oh God, oh God…"
The shudder in his voice echoed up my spine, and I couldn’t
hold back anymore.

I managed no more than a deep groan as I closed my

eyes and surrendered. As soon as my orgasm took over,
Liam released a throaty growl and thrust a few more times
before he came too.

He sank against me, both of us panting and trembling

as the dizzying energy in the air dissipated into calm
lethargy.

"Fucking hell," he whispered, kissing the underside of

my jaw before lifting himself up on his elbows. "That was—"

Our eyes met again.

My breath stopped. So did his.

I felt it. He felt it. Neither of us spoke, but his eyes

said it all.

Finally, he bent and kissed me. It was just a light,

gentle kiss, but its intensity was on par with some of our
hungriest embraces.

I knew. He knew.
But we didn’t say a word. Whether we were afraid to

speak or this simply went beyond anything that could be put
into words, I didn’t know. All I know is that it wasn’t until
we’d gotten ready for bed and made it under the covers that
Liam finally broke the silence.

"You know," he said. "I like this place. It’s too bad

we’re going home already."

"Not until tomorrow," I said. "We still have all night."

"Yeah, we do." He smiled and kissed me lightly before

I rested my head on his chest.

Lying this way, the window was directly in my line of

sight, and outside was Vancouver’s skyline. As Liam ran his
fingers through my hair and gently kissed the top of my
head, I watched the sparkling lights in the distance.

I’d brought Liam to Vancouver to put a new face with

the memories of this town, and I’d succeeded.

This was no longer the city that wouldn’t forget Craig.
This was where I fell in love with Liam.

160

Twenty Nine

The next morning, we just barely managed to get out

of  our  room  in  time  for  checkout.  I  was  tempted  to  suggest
staying  another  day,  but  didn’t  want  to  press  my  luck  with
my boss. Though no one had commented on my sick day or
miraculous full recovery the following day, I was still certain
someone was going to find me out. As if I was the only one
in the building who had ever taken a gratuitous sick day, but
it wasn’t usually my  style, and  my conscience hadn’t let me
forget it.

Casting a surreptitious glance at Liam as he zipped his

backpack, I couldn’t help but grin to myself. Guilty
conscience or not, that night was well worth it.

And another day here would be well worth it, too, but

we had to return to the real world sooner or later, so we
gave the room one last look to make sure we hadn’t
forgotten anything and headed down to turn in our key.

Then we hit the road.

Conversation was unusually tense and stilted as we

inched  through  traffic  towards  the  border.  Though  we
bantered  and  flirted  as  we  often  did,  there  was  something
else  that  remained  uncomfortably  unspoken.  Every  time  we
fell into a quiet lull, we’d exchange glances, a silent "are you
going  to  say  it?"  passing  between  us.  Each  safe,  mundane
topic  thrummed  with  the  conversation  we  hadn’t  yet  had,
every word a nervous preamble to what needed to be said.

Traffic leading up to the border was, as always,

painfully slow. When we’d crossed it the other day, I was
content to move at a snail’s pace in spite of my eagerness to

161

get to the hotel. I was in no hurry to wrap up a pleasant day
of just being together.

But this time, I found myself scanning the distance,

begging the Peace Arch to come into view. It wasn’t that I
wanted to get away from Liam, I just wanted this drive—and
the discussion that I knew was coming—to be over.

Shortly after we crossed the border, Liam finally went

there: "You know, I don’t think this has stayed quite as
casual as we set out to keep it."

"Is that—" I glanced at him, quickly searching his

expression for something to betray the neutrality in his
voice, but finding nothing. "Is that good or bad?"

He was quiet for a moment. Then, "I don’t know. I

really don’t." He looked at me. "What do you think?"

I chewed the inside of my cheek, trying to find the

words to throw the ball back into his court. Oh hell, just get
it over with. "I don’t know if it’s good or bad," I said finally.
"I think it just is."

Again, he was quiet, looking straight ahead, but he

nodded slowly. "Yeah, I think you’re right." He laughed
softly. "I guess we can’t exactly back pedal, can we?"

Not after last night, we can’t. "Probably not, no." Do

you want to back pedal?

He fell silent again. Then he cleared his throat. "Man, I

suck at these conversations."

"That makes two of us."

Resting his elbow below the window, he chewed his

thumbnail for a moment. "I guess we’ll just see where things
go, then." He paused. "But, I still don’t, you know, want to
rush things along."

"So you don’t want to move in together next

weekend?" I said with a smirk.

"Oh Jesus." He rolled his eyes. "If I never move again,

it’ll be too soon." Then he paused. "Though maybe you could
move this time, then—"

"You’d have to help me."

He waved sharply. "Never mind then." We laughed,

then he went on. "In all seriousness, I just don’t want to fuck
this up, you know?"

I nodded and put my hand on his leg. "Yeah, I know

what you mean."

162

He sighed. "I hate to dig my heels in every step of the

way, I’m just—" He put his hand over mine, running his
thumb along the side of my finger. "It’s going to take time."

"I understand," I said. "I’m in the same boat. We’re

both coming off of splits, so there’s no need to rush into
anything." Even if I can’t stop myself.

"Good point." After a moment, he said, "You ever

wonder why we hesitate to rush into something good, but
drag our feet getting out of something bad?"

"Probably because we don’t usually realize how good

or bad something is until it’s gone."

"You know, you’re probably onto something. I mean, I

won’t lie," he said. "I’ve still got a lot of shit to deal with
from my ex."

I glanced at him. "That bad?"

"Oh man, I was miserable with him," he said.

"Actually, ‘miserable’ doesn’t even begin to describe it—" He
cut himself off, then gestured dismissively. Sharply, even.
"Let’s just leave it at that." He ran his thumb across the back
of my hand. "But I like being with you."

"I’m with you on both counts," I said.

He laughed. "I don’t know if ‘miserable with exes’

counts as having something in common, but I’ll take it."

"Works for me," I said. We fell back into silence, but

unanswered  questions  still  lingered  in  the  back  of  my  mind.
Sure,  we  were  on  the  same  wavelength  that  this  was
definitely  not  just  a  casual  fling  anymore,  but  to  what
degree? Neither of us wanted to rush things, but I wondered
if  he  felt  as  strongly  about  me  as  I  did  about  him.  Time  to
test the water.

"So were you serious about going back?" I asked.

"About taking another trip, maybe staying a bit longer?"

"Absolutely," he said without hesitation. "Especially

that hotel. I love that place."

"So do half the people who go to Vancouver," I said. "I

usually book it months in advance."

"Well worth it," he said. "I guess we’ll just have to

make reservations, won’t we?"

I smiled. So you do want to stick around for a while.

"Just tell me when, I’ll make the call."

He ran his thumb across the side of my hand. "The

163

sooner the better." I glanced at him and he winked.

We drove in silence for a while, but the tension finally

dissipated, returning the quiet space between us to a familiar
calm. I still wasn’t sure if he felt the same way, but I could
live with this. There was plenty of time to go down that road.

A few hours after we crossed the border, I pulled into

Scott’s driveway.

"Here we are," I said.

Liam smiled. "Now to see if my brother managed to

fuck up my bike while I was gone," he said as he unbuckled
his seatbelt.

"I thought he didn’t like motorcycles."

"He doesn’t. But that doesn’t mean he won’t bump it

with one of his cars or his kid won’t knock it over."

I laughed. "And that’s safer than leaving it at your

apartment?"

He swallowed hard and nodded. "Trust me. It’s safer."

Then  he  leaned  across  the  console  to  kiss  me.  "I  know  we
just  spent  three  solid  days  together,"  he  said  with  a
mischievous  grin.  "But  if  you  want  to  stay  at  my  place
tonight…" His expression turned shy.

I smiled. "I’ll meet you there."

164

Thirty

"I should get going," I said as Liam and I lingered in

the doorway of his apartment the next morning. "Or I’m
going to be here all day."

He kissed me gently, his hands on my hips. "I could

think of worse things."

"Like getting fired?" I whispered against his lips.

"I’d get fired over fucking you." He shrugged and let

his fingers slide under my shirt, making me gasp when they
touched my skin.

"As would I," I said. "But I should go."

He touched my face and drew out one last kiss before

he let me go. "I’ll be there as soon as I can tonight."

"What time are you off?"

"Nine."

"Then I’ll see you around nine fifteen."

"I’ll try for nine twelve."

"Just don’t kill yourself."

"I won’t." He grinned kissed me again. "But I’ll be

there as soon as I can."

We finally managed to pry ourselves off each other

and I headed downstairs.

After I started the car, I paused and glanced at the

clock. I wasn’t running late, so I had plenty of time to stop
and grab a cup of coffee. There were coffee shops on damn
near every corner. If I timed it just right, I might even beat
the rush at one of my favorites a block or two from work.

I pulled out of the parking lot. Drumming my thumbs

on the steering wheel, I let my mind drift back to that

165

incredible weekend in Vancouver. I couldn’t help but grin.
Craig who?

A flash of sunlight on metal caught my eye and I

looked just in time to see a blue sedan peel out of a parking
lot in front of me. I swerved, nearly clipping the car in the
next lane, but managed to narrowly miss both of them.

"Fucking idiot," I muttered, my heart jumping into my

throat. I pulled around the sedan and kept going, taking a
deep breath to bring my heart rate back down.

I glanced in the rearview and the car was still behind

me.

Right behind me.

"Oh, back off, asshole," I said through my teeth.

I tapped my brakes, but he stayed right on my tail.

Gritting my teeth, I glanced in my blind spot and changed
lanes.

A second later, the blue sedan was in my rearview

again.

"Fuck." Just what I needed first thing on a Monday

morning: Some dick with road rage, even though he was the
one who’d cut me off.

I turned my attention back to the road. Tried to listen

to the song playing on the radio. Tried to think about the
weekend that had just ended. Tried to read the bumper
stickers of the car in front of me.

But every time I looked up, the sedan still lurked

behind me.

I was getting close to my turnoff. I chewed my lip and

glanced  in  the  rearview  again.  Turning  meant  going  down
some  narrow  side  streets  that  were  almost  deserted  this
time  of  day.  Depending  on  how  aggressive  this  guy  wanted
to be, that could be dangerous.

Staying on Broadway meant a longer drive, but I was

more out in the open and had more room to move if he
decided to do something stupid.

I chose to stay on Broadway.
When the light at Pine Street turned yellow, my heart

raced. There was no way in hell I was going to make it
before it turned red, but I gunned the engine anyway and
flew through the intersection just as the light turned.

And he stayed right behind me.

166

"Jesus Christ, what is your damage, asshole?" I was

well past annoyed now. This guy was making me nervous.

The next intersection was Pike and Broadway. Without

signaling  or  stepping  on  my  brake,  I  waited  until  the  very
last  second  and  turned  so  sharply  onto  Pike  that  my  tires
squealed.  Behind  me,  the  blue  sedan  kept  going  across  the
intersection, disappearing from view, and I let out a breath.

I circled the block back to Pine and turned onto

Broadway, continuing on my way to work. Paranoia kept me
glancing in the rearview, but I knew he was gone. At least a
few blocks ahead of me by now.

I shook my head, then shrugged a few times, trying to

get  rid  of  that  nervous  tension  that  had  developed  over  the
last  several  blocks.  I  never  understood  why  people  got  so
bent  out  of  shape  over  near  misses  on  the  road.  Even  if  it
had  been  my  fault,  shit  happens.  Yet  some  people  just
couldn’t let it go.

Oh well. He’s gone now.

Tires squealed and a horn honked behind me. I looked

up just in time to see the blue sedan pull out and cut off the
car that was a ways behind me.

"You’ve got to be kidding me."

I moved in front of another car and accelerated,

letting  the  other  car  box  me  in  beside  a  bus,  forcing  some
distance between the blue sedan and me. Then I got in front
of  the  bus  and  floored  it.  I  was  well  above  the  speed  limit
now, but getting pulled over wouldn’t necessarily have been
a bad thing at that point.

Where’s a damned cop when you need one? I glanced

at my cell phone in the cupholder. I could call the police, but
I  wasn’t  sure  I  wanted  to  risk  talking  on  the  phone  while
eluding  this  jackass.  I  was  almost  to  the  office  anyway;  at
least that parking lot would be full of people this time of day,
so unless he wanted to confront me along with all of my co-
workers, he’d probably leave.

When I turned off onto the narrow side street that

would  take  me  to  the  office,  I  no  longer  had  the  luxury  of
other  cars  to  keep  us  separated.  He  got  right  up  on  my
bumper. A few times, I was sure he was going to hit me, but
he didn’t.

Up ahead, a light turned red. There was no blowing

167

this  intersection;  other  cars  were  already  moving  on  the
cross  street.  I  didn’t  have  a  choice.  With  my  heart  in  my
throat, I slowed to a stop, hoping to God he didn’t get out of
the car.

I drummed my thumbs on the wheel and looked at the

stoplight,  refusing  to  make  eye  contact  with  him  in  the
rearview.  Behind  me,  he  revved  his  engine,  the  rising  and
falling whine of the motor setting my teeth on edge.

"Dude, whatever’s wrong with you, there’s probably a

very strong prescription for it."

The light turned green and I put my foot on the gas,

resisting the urge to peel out and try to outrun him. Maybe if
I just ignored him, just calmly proceeded, he’d leave.

The black, red, and white sign for my company came

into view, and I couldn’t remember ever being so happy to
arrive at work.

I turned on my signal and slowed down, but still he

didn’t  back  off.  It  dawned  on  me  that  if  he  was  that  pissed
about  whatever  I  had  apparently  done,  he  might  follow  me
into  the  lot.  But  there  were  people  milling  around,  so  I
assured  myself  that  he  probably  wouldn’t  be  stupid  enough
to confront me in a crowded lot.

I turned into the lot and—

Crunch.

My car jerked slightly as the other car clipped it, and a

second later, tires squealed. By the time I realized what had
happened, he was long gone.

I pulled into a parking space and got out, cursing

under my breath.

I went around to the back of my car. The driver’s side

taillight was cracked and some paint was missing, but
otherwise, the damage was minimal.

"Hey, Jon, are you okay?"

I looked up to see a few of my co-workers running

towards me. I nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I’m fine."

"Did you get his plate?" Steve craned his neck down

the road in the direction the sedan had long since
disappeared.

I shook my head. "No, I should’ve. Fuck, what an

asshole." Not only had I missed his plate, but in my efforts to
avoid eye contact with him, I hadn’t even gotten a

168

description of the driver.

"You sure you’re all right?" Aaron asked. "Dude, you’re

shaking."

Looking at my hands, I let out a breath as I realized

he was right. "I’m okay, he just startled me. Didn’t hit me
that hard."

"You should get the cops in on this," Steve said. "Your

insurance will want a report anyway, so—"

"Guys, seriously." I put a hand up and shook my head.

"There’s no point, he’s gone and I didn’t get a plate. I’ll file a
report later for my insurance, but…" I shrugged. "There’s
really no point in getting the cops out here now. Come on, or
we’re all going to be late."

Steve laughed as we started towards the building.

"Yeah, and you’ll be the one who gets your ass chewed."

"Shit rolls downhill, my friend," I said. "I assure you, if

my ass gets chewed, yours is next." We laughed, continued
across the lot, and I tried to forget about my cracked taillight
and scuffed paint.

I never did get my cup of coffee, but somehow I didn’t

think I’d need anything to wake myself up now.

169

Thirty One

Shortly after I got home from work, my phone rang.

Craig’s  name  came  up  on  the  caller  ID.  I  rolled  my  eyes,
realizing  with  some  amusement  that  that  had  become  my
default reaction to his name or his voice. Quite a switch from
my heart jumping into my throat and my stomach tying itself
in knots.

"Hey, what’s up?"

"Not much," he said. "Mind if I come by tonight?"

I rolled my eyes again. Of course, after a fender

bender and a hell of a day at work, Craig was just what I
needed. "Liam’s going to be here later on—"

"Just for a little while," he said. "There’s a wreck on

the freeway and I just don’t feel like sitting in traffic for three
hours."

I laughed. "So I’m just here to help you kill time on

your way home?"

"That’s not what I meant," he said, chuckling.

"Yeah, I know," I said. "Sure, why not? I’ll be around."

After I hung up, I questioned the wisdom of having him over,
but then blew  it off.  This was what we’d agreed to do when
we  broke  up,  and  now  I  could  finally  be  in  the  same  room
with him without falling all over myself wishing I could have
him back. After a shitty day, maybe having Craig show up to
remind me just how much I’d gotten over him would lighten
my mood.

Yes, do come over, Craig. Come bask in my apathy.

~ * ~

Craig dropped onto my couch and draped his arm

across the back of it while I took a seat on one of the other

170

chairs. He opened his mouth to speak, but something caught
his attention and he looked past me.

I followed his gaze to the print above the television.

"Finally replaced that painting?" he said.

"Yep," I said with a shrug. "Decided it was time for

something new."

"I see." It was then that I noticed the hint of

bitterness in his tone.

I looked at him again, raising my eyebrows as he

scowled at the print. "You don’t like it?"

"It’s nice." The words sounded sour on his tongue.

It was tempting to tell him that Liam had helped me

pick it out, but as much as I enjoyed the liberating feeling of
being over him, I didn’t need to rub it in.

He looked away from the offending print and turned

towards me instead. "So what did you do with the painting?"

"It’s still here," I said. "Just didn’t have room to hang

it out here."

Nodding slowly, he said, "Well, if you don’t have a

place for it and want to get rid of it, I’ll take it off your
hands."

"It’s in the spare bedroom," I said. "Let me get it for

you." He followed me down the hall, probably glad to be
away from the print that now occupied the coveted place
above my television. I suppressed a smirk.

He leaned against the doorway in the spare bedroom

as I pushed a few boxes aside to find the painting.

"So how was your trip to Vancouver?"
"It was great," I said. "Liam had never been there, so

I showed him around." Well, as much as I could from the
window of our hotel room.

"Nice." His tone was icy. "Where did you guys stay?"
I closed my eyes and let out a breath. He’d probably

guess that we’d stayed in the same hotel where he and I had
always  stayed,  and  was  just  looking  for  confirmation.  I’d
resisted  the  temptation  to  taunt  him  with  my  new
relationship,  but  he  was  practically  begging  me  to.  Turning
towards him, I said, "Craig, do you—"

"I’m just curious, Jon. That’s all."
I pulled the painting out and handed it to him. "So it

doesn’t bother you in the slightest that I’m taking my new

171

boyfriend to the place where you and I spent a lot of time?"

The corner of his lip twitched as he moved aside to let

me out of the room. "No, of course not."

"Just like it doesn’t bother you at all that I took your

painting off the wall?"

Another twitch.
I sighed. As much as I’d wanted to enjoy being around

him  now  that  I  was  over  him,  this  pathetic,  thinly-veiled
jealousy  annoyed  me.  This  is  what  you  wanted,  Craig.  I’m
not going to feel guilty for finally letting you go.

"Craig—"
"Jon, I’m just curious how things are going. I’m glad

to see that you’ve moved on." His fingers drummed on top of
the painting’s frame.

Was I this pathetic before I got over you?
"Thanks," I said.
Forcing a smile, he said, "It sounds like you guys had

a great trip. That’s—" He paused. "It’s great."

Must. Not. Roll. Eyes. I smiled in spite of my gritting

teeth. Then I cleared my throat. "So how is the wedding
coming along?"

He groaned, but seemed to relax at the change of

subject. "Jesus, you have no idea."

I laughed. "That bad, huh?"
"It’s awful. It’s a pain anyway, but I’m serious, I don’t

think Rebecca and I have ever fought this much."

My humor faded. "Oh really?"
He

nodded,

clicking

his

tongue. "She

thinks

everything’s a crisis, I don’t think it’s that big of a deal." He
sighed. "I just can’t wait until it’s over."

The wedding or the relationship? "Well," I said, trying

to keep a sympathetic smile. "It’ll be over soon."

An awkward silence fell. He watched his fingers tap on

the frame. Then he glanced at his watch and took a breath.
"Traffic’s probably cleared out. I should go."

"Okay. It was good to see you."
"You, too," he said as we headed for the door. "Glad

you two enjoyed your trip. And, uh—" He gestured at the
painting. "Thanks for hanging onto this for me."

Thanks for getting it out of my house. "No problem.

Good night, Craig." As I shut the door behind him, I finally

173

Thirty Two

About an hour after Craig left, my phone rang again. I

cringed, hoping it wasn’t him, and it wasn’t.

It was Liam.

"Hey," I said.

"Hey." He sounded like his teeth were chattering. "I’m

going to be a bit late. Maybe an hour or two."

I glanced at the clock. It was already almost nine. "I’ll

be here. Everything okay?"

"Yeah, just…" He paused. "I’ll tell you about it when I

get there." Another pause. "I have some shit I have to take
care of before I go. You sure you still want me to come
over?"

"Of course," I said.

"Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can."

We hung up, and I chewed my lip for a moment,

eyeing  my  phone.  He’d  sounded  rattled,  but  it  could  have
been  annoyance.  Probably  something  to  do  with  one  of  his
employees, or maybe a problem customer.

It was well after eleven when he knocked. I opened

the door and my stomach flipped.

The corner of his lower lip was cut, though not enough

to require stitches, and a bruise radiated across his cheek
and jaw.

"Jesus, Liam, what happened?"

"Brawl at the club." He touched his lip gingerly and

shrugged. "Couple of drunks. It happens."

"Where were the bouncers?"

He dropped his gaze. "It was, you know, these things

happen fast. I got on one before the bouncers could, to keep

174

him from hitting the other with a broken bottle." He avoided
my eyes. "Anyway, it’s…it happens."

"You sure you’re okay? I can take you to get it looked

at."

He shook his head quickly. "No, no, it’s fine. Though…"

He paused, moving his jaw from side to side and wincing.
"You wouldn’t have any ice, would you?"

"Yeah, of course." I gestured for him to follow me and

we went into the kitchen. He leaned against the counter,
looking at the floor as I pulled some ice out of the freezer. I
wrapped it in a towel and handed it to him.

"Thanks." He pressed it against his jaw, flinching and

cursing under his breath.

"Liam, I’m serious, if you want—"

He put his hand up and shook his head. "I’m fine. I’ve

had worse." His jaw barely moved as he spoke. A distant
look darkened his expression, then he shook his head again
and whispered, "Trust me. I’ve had worse."

"Sounds like we both had a hell of a day," I said.

He gave me an inquisitive look, the ice crunching as

he shifted it slightly. "Oh?"

I shrugged. "Someone clipped my bumper this

morning on the way to work."

He blinked, his spine straightening. "Shit, are you

okay?" He winced, as if it hurt to speak.

"Yeah, yeah, I’m just fine. We just swapped a little

paint. Wasn’t that big of a deal."

"As long as you didn’t get hurt," he said quietly.

"No, I’m fine." I folded my arms across my chest and

leaned against the counter across the narrow kitchen from
him. "Then my ex decided to come by."

Liam’s eyebrows jumped.

"He wasn’t so impressed with the new artwork in the

living room." I laughed. "But he took his painting with him,
so at least that’s out of my hair."

The corner of his mouth pulled up in a smile and a hint

of the usual devilish sparkle returned to his eyes. "Guess not
everyone appreciates Jason Connor."

"Not when Jason Connor is invading Craig Wolfe’s wall

space."

Liam chuckled. "Territorial bastard, isn’t he?"

175

"You could say that." I paused. "Funny that it drives

him nuts to accept that you’re in my life, but it doesn’t
bother you that he’s still around." Then I cocked my head.
"It doesn’t bother you, does it?"

He shook his head. "I don’t own you, Jon." He

adjusted the ice pack, cursing softly. Then he met my eyes.
"If he was some kind of psycho, I’d be a bit concerned."

I made a flippant gesture. "Nah, he’s harmless."

Chewing my lip, I added, "But with everything with your ex,
with him cheating, if you’re not comfortable—"

"Trust me, I’m not worried," he said. "You and my ex

are  very,  very  different  people.  If  I  didn’t  trust  you,  I’d  say
so." He came across the kitchen and set the ice pack on the
counter  behind  me.  One  hand  landed  gently  on  my  hip,  the
other  ran  through  my  hair.  His  jaw  barely  moving,  he  said,
"And I do trust  you,  Jon. Besides, from  the sound of  it, this
guy’s a douche anyway."

I laughed, shivering as his cold fingers brushed my

scalp. "That’s a pretty apt description, actually."

One side of his mouth pulled into a crooked smile. "I’d

ask what you saw in him but…" The humor suddenly faded
and he dropped his gaze for a moment, absently touching his
cut lip with the tip of his tongue. He looked up and shrugged,
laughing softly. "My taste in men in the past hasn’t exactly
been anything to brag about."

"Another thing we have in common, then." I touched

the uninjured side of his face.

"I don’t know," he said. "Your taste is still

questionable."

I grinned. "Well, I figured if I was going to date dirty

bastards, I might as well raise my standards and go for their
king."

He smirked. "I don’t know if I should take that as an

insult or compliment."

"Just a statement of fact," I said with a shrug.

"Touché." He moved to kiss me, but we both paused.

Touching the cut with his tongue again, he said, "Guess
that’ll have to wait a little while."

"Hmm, so I suppose a blowjob is out of the question,

then."

He gave me an incredulous look, then laughed. "Yes,

177

Thirty Three

On Wednesday night, my last call of the day took me

well past five o’clock. I was supposed to meet Liam for
dinner at six, but it was five forty-five when I walked out of
the building. Cursing and muttering on the way across the
parking lot as I resisted the urge to break into a run, I called
Liam.

"Hey, what’s up?" he said.

"I got out of work late. I’m just now leaving, so I’ll

probably be there in about half an hour."

"Don’t worry about it. The restaurant’s packed, so

there’s a wait anyway. If I’m not in the lobby, just tell the
hostess your name and—"

"Oh, for fuck’s sake." I stopped in my tracks as my car

came into view. My rear passenger tire was flat. Just what I
needed.

"What?"

"Shit, I’m sorry, didn’t mean to cut you off." I exhaled

sharply. "Fuck, looks like I’m going to be later than I
thought."

"Why? They calling you back into the office?"
"No, I’ve got a damned flat tire."
He laughed. "Just not your night tonight, is it?"
"It will be once we get home," I said, grinning.
"Hey now, that’s an awful lot of pressure for a guy like

me," he said, a grin in his voice. "Making up for a shitty day
at work and a flat tire?"

"I’m sure you’ll manage." I popped my trunk and

reached for the jack. "You haven’t failed me yet."

"Yet? Oh ye of little faith."

178

"You’re the one who said it was a lot of—" I paused

and craned my neck towards the front of the car. "Oh, son of
a…"

"What? What’s wrong?"
"Fuck," I muttered, eyes fixed on my front passenger

side tire. My flat front passenger tire.

"Jon?"
"Hang on a sec." I went to the front of the car, and

sure enough, my eyes didn’t deceive me. The fucker was flat.
"Oh come on, you’ve got to be kidding me!"

"What? What is it?"
"Christ," I muttered, tossing the jack back into the

trunk. I only had one spare tire, so there was no point in
changing either flat. "I’m going to have to call a tow."

"Jon, what the fuck is going on?" He sounded rattled.
"Two flats."
He paused. "That’s not funny, Jon."
"What?" I furrowed my brow as I slammed the trunk

lid. "Why would I joke about that?"

"You’re serious? Two flats?"
"Dead serious."
"What did you do? Run over a spike strip?"
"Wouldn’t  surprise  me  if  I  hit  a  few  nails  in  this

damned lot," I said. "Last time I got a flat here, it was
broken glass."

"But only one tire." He sounded unnerved.
I walked to the other side of my car, and my blood

turned to ice. "What in the hell?"

"What’s wrong?" Even more unnerved.
"I don’t think I hit any nails," I said. "Unless I hit four

of them."

"You have four flats?"
"Four flats." As I looked at the front driver’s side tire,

a chill ran up my spine. There was no way a nail was
responsible: The weight of the car pushed the flat tire in on
itself, but the gash in the sidewall was still clearly visible.

"Holy fuck." I glanced nervously around the deserted

parking lot. "Someone slashed my tires."

He sucked in a breath. "Are you serious?"
"The whole side wall is split apart." I walked around

the car, looking at each tire again. "Same on every damned

179

one of them."

"You need to call the cops, Jon. Right now."
"That, and a tow truck."
"Do you need a lift?"
"You don’t mind?"
"Are you kidding?" His voice was shaking now, as if he

was moving quickly. "I’ll be there as soon as I can."

~ * ~

After I called the police and a tow, I went back into

the building to call my  insurance company. The lobby had a
panoramic view of the parking lot, so I’d be able to see when
anyone  pulled  in.  I  wasn’t  waiting  outside,  though.  It  may
have been a random act of vandalism, but after the jackass
that  tailgated  me  and  clipped  my  bumper  the  other  day,  I
wasn’t taking any chances.

About twenty minutes after I got off the phone with

Liam, the sound of his motorcycle turned my head. I was still
on the phone with a claims adjuster, but headed outside.
There was no way I was getting my car fixed this late in the
day, so the adjuster made arrangements for a rental. Once
that was all ironed out, I hung up.

"How did you get here so fast?" I asked Liam as I put

my phone back in my pocket.

He kissed me lightly. "I have my ways." Looking

around the parking lot, he said, "How long for the tow?"

"An hour or so, probably."
"Did the police say how long they’d be?"

I shrugged. "Too long, as always. It isn’t exactly an

emergency."

"Sons of bitches," he muttered. He walked around the

car, eyeing my tires. "They ever had problems with this kind
of thing here before?"

"Vandalism on occasion. It happens."

"Yeah, but four slashed tires?"

"Better than the smashed windshield on my boss’s car

last year."

Liam raised an eyebrow. "Disgruntled employee?"

"Who knows? They never did figure out who did it, and

they probably won’t figure this one out either." I put my
hands in my pockets and shifted my weight.

He pursed his lips but said nothing. As he came

180

around the back of the car, he did a double take. "What
happened here?"

"What?" I craned my neck and realized he was

pointing at the cracked taillight. "Oh, that was that asshole
that clipped me the other day."

"Oh, right." He glanced at me, then back at the

taillight. "It’s not your week, is it?"

"Not my car’s week, anyway." I shook my head and

cursed under my breath. "This  is going to be murder on my
insurance rate, since my company will be ponying up for this
and  that."  I  gestured  at  the  body  damage  from  the  fender
bender.

"Why is your insurance paying for the accident?" he

asked, looking at the cracked taillight. "I thought it was the
other guy’s fault."

"Hit and run," I said. "Damn it, I should have gotten

that guy’s plate."

"What?" Liam’s head snapped up. I thought the color

drained from his face. "You didn’t tell me it was a hit and
run."

I nodded. "By the time I even realized he’d hit me, he

was gone."

"So he just," he paused, swallowing. "He hit you and

took off? Out of nowhere?"

"I wouldn’t say it was out of nowhere." I shrugged

again. "Son of a bitch cut me off, then flipped out like it was
my fault and followed me all the way here until I turned."

Liam blinked. "How far did he follow you?"

"He cut me off coming out of that complex a block or

so from your place."

The rest of the color drained from his face. "He

followed you all the way here from my apartment? Jesus,
Jon, why didn’t you say something?"

"What is there to say? Some jackass with road rage.

Hit and run. Long gone." I shrugged.

"I know, but—" He cut himself off, chewing his lower

lip as his eyes flicked back and forth between my taillight
and one of the tires.

"But, what?"

He stared at the car, then shook his head. "Nothing.

You’re probably right." He ran his fingers over the blue paint

181

the other car had left. In a hollow voice that raised the hairs
on the back of my neck, he added, "Just some jackass with
road rage."

"You don’t sound very convinced."

He swallowed. "No, it’s not that." He hesitated, giving

the car one last look before turning to me. "I just don’t like
the fact that someone was messing with you like that."

I put my hand on his waist. "Don’t like someone

messing with your territory?"

"Exactly." A smile tugged at the uninjured corner of

his mouth, but the shudder didn’t escape my notice. "I just
don’t want someone hurting you."

"Guess I’ll just have to be more careful who I piss off

on the road."

His eyes flicked towards the car, then he back to me.

With a smile that didn’t extend beyond his mouth, he
whispered, "Probably not a bad idea."

182

Thirty Four

Between the insurance, the tow, the police, and the

rental car agency, I was exhausted by the time I parked in
front of my apartment. It was after eleven, but may as well
have been three or four in the morning. All I could think of
was sleep.

I wondered if Liam would be in the mood for anything,

and quietly hoped that he wouldn’t be. As much as I wanted
him,  I  just  had  nothing  left  tonight.  Fortunately,  as  we
walked  up  to  my  apartment  in  silence,  I  got  the  impression
he wasn’t feeling it either. He kept his eyes down, one hand
in  his  pocket  as  the  other  carried  his  helmet.  We  both  took
the stairs slowly, almost sluggishly.

When we got to my door, he put his hand between my

shoulders while I dug my keys out of my pocket.

"Tired?" he asked.

"Doesn’t even begin to describe it," I said. "Fuck, what

a day."

"Amazing how much it can take out of you."

"You’re right about that. This is about the same

amount of bullshit as a fucking car accident." I opened the
door. Smirking I added, "Minus the painkillers."

He laughed half-heartedly. "At least you don’t have

the pain to go with it."

"I still wouldn’t mind some of the painkillers." I met

his  eyes  and  we  both  managed  a  laugh  with  a  little  more
enthusiasm.  Draping  my  jacket  over  a  chair,  I  said,
"Speaking of which, how is your lip?"

He gingerly touched the cut and the angry bruise that

183

covered one side of his jaw. "It’s not going to heal overnight,
but it doesn’t hurt as much anymore."

"It looks better. How about the bruise?"

"That still hurts," he said, grimacing. He moved his

jaw from side to side. "At least my jaw works again. Could
barely move it yesterday."

I was half-tempted to make a smartass comment

about his mouth being back in commission, but I didn’t even
have the energy for that. I let out a breath. "It’s been a hell
of a week for both of us, hasn’t it?"

He laughed dryly. "Yeah. Maybe we should have taken

that trip this weekend, when we needed to unwind."

"No kidding. Any more crap like today, I’ll be throwing

you in the car and heading for the border, because I am
done."

He took his jacket off. "I hear that."
I rubbed the back of my neck as fatigue weighed me

down more and more with each passing second. "I can’t
promise I’ll be great company tonight."

"Don’t worry about it. You’ve had a long night."

"No shit." I closed my eyes and kept rubbing my neck.

"I swear to God, I could sleep for a month."

"Yeah, me too." His hands gently pushed mine aside

and he kneaded my neck and shoulders. "Want to just call it
a night?"

I nodded slowly. "You don’t mind?"

"Not in the least," he said, still rubbing my shoulders.

"I’m exhausted."

"But you can keep doing that if you want to." I

groaned softly. "Jesus, that feels good."

"Why don’t you sit, then?" He released my shoulders

and gently nudged me towards the couch. "And take your
shirt off."

I gave him a playful glare. "This isn’t some trick to get

me out of my clothes, is it?"

He laughed and kissed me gently. "I don’t think either

of us has the energy for that."

"Got that right." I pulled my shirt off and dropped it on

a chair.

We sat on the couch and I rested my forehead on my

hands as his fingers worked their magic on knots I didn’t

184

even  know  existed.  He  didn’t  press  hard,  didn’t  dig  in
painfully;  it  was  just  enough  gentle,  but  firm  pressure  to
keep my attention on his touch, letting the rest of the world
dissolve into irrelevance.

I don’t know how long we sat like that. I may have

even  drifted  off  a  few  times,  so  relaxing  was  his  touch.  My
muscles  seemed  to  melt  at  his  fingertips  and  I  wondered  a
few times if my spine would be next.

His hands went to my shoulders, then gently pulled

me back against him as he wrapped his arms around me. I
put my hand over his and rested my head on his shoulder.

For the longest time, we just sat like that, neither

speaking as my thumb absently drifted back and forth across
the back of his hand.

He kissed the side of my forehead. "I’m going to fall

asleep like this," he murmured.

"I could think of worse things."

His stubble brushed my skin as he smiled. "Just might

be more comfortable in bed."

"I like this, though."

"So do I," he said. "That’s what I meant. This might be

more comfortable in bed."

"Hmm, good point."

And he was absolutely right. Being in his arms on the

couch was comfortable. In bed, it was perfect. So perfect, in
fact, that as soon as my head landed on his shoulder, I could
barely keep my eyes open.

"My God, I am beat tonight." He rubbed his eyes.

I yawned. "Me too."
He gently raised my chin and kissed me. "Here’s

hoping tomorrow isn’t quite so full of bullshit."

I laughed and ran my fingers through his hair. "Here’s

hoping."

He kissed me again, his lips taut with a hint of a smile

just before they relaxed into his brief, gentle kiss.

It was only when our lips separated that I realized how

brief that kiss wasn’t. He didn’t pull away. Neither did I. His
breath warmed my skin, sending a shiver down my spine,
and I kissed him again.

As much as I wanted sleep, his kiss seemed to grant

me all the things I needed even more: Reassurance.

185

Stability. Something right in a world that had otherwise lost
its mind.

The kiss deepened and as his tongue met mine, my

exhaustion  was  forgotten.  As  he  wrapped  his  arms  around
me  and  rolled  me  onto  my  back,  his  touch  ignited  some
hidden  reserve  of  hunger  that  transcended  my  body’s  thirst
for sleep.

On the couch, his gentle touch had nearly lulled me

into a trance. What he did now had the opposite effect.
Nerves sparked to life and my every sense heightened in
search of even the most minute taste of his presence. Sleep
could wait. I was too alive for that now.

Every kiss lingered, as did every gentle, desperate

touch. Even the injuries to his lip and jaw couldn’t temper
the passion in his kiss; though his movement was limited,
the hunger was undeniable. Keeping my hand on his neck to
avoid touching the bruise on his face, I held him closer.

He kissed my jaw, then my neck, every touch of his

lips lasting longer than the one before. Like never before, his
hands  were  all  over  me:  fingertips  trailing  lightly  down  my
abs, slowly stroking  my cock, drifting up  my side. I couldn’t
tell  if he was exploring or memorizing or  simply feeling, but
he was in no hurry.

I ran the pad of my thumb over one of his nipple

piercings  and  he  released  a  ragged  breath  against  my  lips.
When  I  brought  my  other  hand  up  to  do  the  same,  he
moaned  softly  and  lowered  his  head  to  kiss  my  neck,  our
stubbled  jaws  brushing  audibly  just  before  his  lips  touched
my skin.

Neither of us spoke, we just touched. His every breath

made  me  gasp,  my  every  shudder  made  him  shiver.  When
he  kissed  me  again,  the  warmth  of  his  mouth  damn  near
made me come.

Without a word, he lifted himself off me and leaned

away. He must have read my thoughts, because a second
later, the sound of ripping foil sent a shiver down my spine.

The light flicked on and I flinched, shielding my eyes

for a second before they adjusted. When they did, he was
over me again.

"Should’ve warned you," he said, smiling. "I just didn’t

want to fuck you in the dark."

186

I raised my head and kissed him. "As if you can’t find

your way."

"Of course I can," he whispered, pressing his cock

against me. "But then I wouldn’t be able to see you."

My voice caught in my throat and I couldn’t be sure if

it was because of what he said, the way he looked at me, or
just the breathtaking sensation of his cock sliding slowly into
me.

"Oh my God," I groaned, closing my eyes. I held his

shoulders, just needing something to keep me grounded, to
keep me here, because none of this seemed real.

He gave me just a little at a time, moving slowly as if

to make sure he’d meet no resistance. Then, he withdrew
almost all the way and thrust back in.

My back arched and my eyes closed, the whole world

spinning around me as I tried to remember how to breathe.
Just  like  the  night  we  met,  that  first  stroke  took  my  breath
away, overwhelming me into unmoving silence. But this time
he didn’t ask if I was okay. He didn’t panic, certain he’d hurt
me. He must have known I was just fine, and judging by the
shuddering  inhalation  followed  by  a  whispered  "oh  my
God…", he was  in the exact same state. When I opened my
eyes,  his  were  closed  and  his  shoulders  trembled  in  my
hands.

I touched his face and his eyes opened, meeting mine

with a look of pure, unbridled need. He shifted his weight
onto one arm and touched my face the same way, brushing
his thumb over my cheekbone as his fingers followed the line
of my jaw. I watched my thumb do the same, and when my
fingers made it to the back of his neck, I drew him down to
kiss me.

If there was anything that could rival the intensity of

that moment, it was the intimacy. Whether I dared say the
words or not, I was, without a doubt, in love with him.

He pushed himself up again and thrust harder. "Jesus

Christ,  I  could  never  get  tired  of  feeling  you  like  this,"  he
breathed.  His  face  flushed  and  the  cords  on  his  neck  stood
out  as  his  lips  tightened  and  his  eyes  closed  tightly.
"Oh…God…" He gasped, then looked down at me. "Fuck, Jon,
I  can’t  stop,  I  can’t…"  His  eyes  rolled  back  and  his  back
arched. "Fuck!"

187

For a moment, he was still, his eyes closed and his lips

parted,  his  cock  still  twitching  inside  me.  Then  his  arms
quivered  and  he  released  a  long  breath  as  he  sank  down  to
me.  He  kissed  me  gently  as  he  withdrew,  one  last  shudder
running through him just before he pulled out.

He kissed me one more time, then moved away to get

rid of the condom. His back was still turned to me when the
lube bottle clicked open.

"I hope you weren’t going to go to sleep yet," he

whispered as he rolled over and faced me.

"Not if you—" I gasped when the cool lube and his

warm hand touched my cock. He closed his fingers around it
and stroked slowly, his skin gliding easily across mine.

"Not if I what?" he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice.
"Not if you keep doing that."
He stroked a little faster. "You like that?"
I nodded, swallowing hard. There was no point in

trying to speak, so I didn’t bother. I was lucky I could stay
conscious with what he was doing.

He kissed the side of my neck. "I know I’ve said this

before," he whispered, raising his head. "But there is nothing
in the world…" He squeezed just a little harder. "…that I love
more than watching you come."

I finally willed my mouth to work as my fingertips ran

across his stubbled jaw. "There’s one thing I like even better,
though."

"Oh?" His eyebrows jumped. "And that is?"

Lifting my head off the pillow, I kissed him and

wrapped my arms around him. I let him take the lead and
decide how deep to kiss me, but he didn’t hold back at all.
His kiss was as hungry and desperate as mine, and drove me
to the edge faster than his hand on my cock.

With a gasp, I broke the kiss, closing my eyes as I

groaned, "Oh God…" I was vaguely aware of his body shifting
next  to  me,  but  didn’t  care,  because  this  felt  too  damned
good. "Oh my God, I’m—" I gasped when his tongue circled
the head of my cock, and a heartbeat later, I came. My back
arched  and  my  hips  nearly  levitated off  the  bed  as  he  kept
stroking  and  sucking  me  until  I  couldn’t  take  anymore.

When my body finally relaxed, sinking to the bed with

a shuddering sigh, he came up and kissed me, his tongue

188

salty-sweet from my orgasm.

"That was incredible," I whispered against his lips.

"I do the best I can," he said, laughing softly. He

rolled onto his side, rubbing his jaw gingerly.

I touched the other side of his face. "I didn’t hurt your

jaw, did I?"

He shook his head and grinned. "Smarts a little, but it

was worth it." He kissed me before I could argue. "Trust
me," he whispered. "It was well worth it." Propping his head
up with one arm, he touched my face gently. "I hope this
took the edge off of a shitty day."

I grinned. "I had a shitty day?"

"Hmm, no, not that I remember." He laughed.

"I haven’t found much that isn’t cured by sex with

you," I said.

He laughed again, but this time his eyes didn’t quite

back it up. "Anything I can do to help," he whispered,
something unreadable flickering across his face. He watched
his own fingers run down my cheek, over my jaw, and down
my neck.

"You okay?"

He looked at me and smiled. "Yeah. Just thinking."

"About?"

His eyebrows pulled together and he opened his

mouth to speak, but instead shook his head. "Nothing." He
smiled half-heartedly and kissed me again. "I suppose we
should call it a night?"

My fatigue from earlier caught up with a vengeance,

so I nodded.

He kissed me one last time. As he reached for the

lamp, he paused and looked at me. I couldn’t be sure in that
fleeting moment before the room went dark, but his eyes
didn’t reflect love, or lust, or anything that I would have
expected after such an intimate experience.

After the light went out and I rested my head on his

shoulder in the darkness, I tried to work out what I’d seen in
that unsettling expression.

A chill prickled the hairs on the back of my neck as I

realized that what I saw in his eyes was as unmistakable as
it was puzzling, and it was neither love nor lust.

It was fear.

189

Thirty Five

When Liam came over the next night, he avoided my

eyes  on  his  way  in  the  door.  Much  the  same  way  Craig  did
when he showed up to tell me he was getting married, Liam
seemed  to  shrink  away  from  me  when  he  walked  past,
keeping a few extra inches of distance instead of greeting me
with a touch or a kiss.

My stomach twisted itself into a knot. This was a little

too familiar, but I hoped I was wrong. Remembering the odd
look  in  his  eyes  before  the  lights  went  out  the  night  before,
something  cold  settled  in  my  chest  and  prepared  for  the
worst.

Testing the water, I said, "Do I get a hello?"

He looked up, forcing a smile. "Yeah, of course, sorry."

He kissed me lightly. Briefly. Immediately dropped his gaze.

Oh, déjà vu, it’s been a while. How are you, bitch?

Without speaking, we went into the living room. He sat

on  the  couch,  chewing  his  thumbnail  and  letting  something
on  my  coffee  table  hold  his  attention.  I  joined  him  but  left
some  space  between  us,  leaving  it  up  to  him  to  close  that
distance.

He made no move to cross the divide. In fact, when

his eyes flicked towards me, I realized with a sinking feeling
that, while I thought the gap was too wide, he seemed to
think it was too narrow. He didn’t move away, but he didn’t
look at me either.

Steeling myself, I said, "What’s wrong?"

He released a long breath and rubbed his eyes with his

thumb and forefinger. "I think…" He trailed off, cursing under
his breath and swallowing hard.

190

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see where this was

going. Well, at least he didn’t wait two years to do it. "Liam—

"Jon, I’m sorry." He finally managed to look at me. "I

need, I think, I need a little time to sort some things out."

I exhaled. "If you think we shouldn’t see each other,

just say so."

"I’m not saying we shouldn’t see each other at all, I

just…" The hand he ran through his hair was shaking. "I need
some time. To think."

"About?"

"A lot of things." He exhaled heavily. "It’s not just

about us—"

"It’s not me, it’s you?" I raised an eyebrow.

Closing his eyes, he sighed. "It’s not like that. Look,

there’s no easy way to say it. There’s no way I can explain it
without…" He chewed his thumbnail, avoiding my eyes.

"Without what?"

"Things are complicated, Jon," he said. "Maybe I

shouldn’t have jumped into anything this soon after what
happened with my ex. Should’ve let everything…" He paused
again. "Settle."

Something twisted in my gut. "Such as?"

He exhaled. Finally, he looked me in the eye. "I don’t

want to hurt you, Jon, but I need to take some time to figure
a few things out on my own—in my life, in my head—before I
can even think of letting myself get as involved with you as
I—" He cut himself off, tightening his lips as if holding back
emotions he didn’t want me to see.

"Liam?"

Dropping his gaze, he whispered, "Before I let this go

the direction I think it’s heading."

I furrowed my brow. "So, are you ending it, or not?"

"I’m not—" He paused. "I’m not sure."

"That leaves things a little ambiguous for me, don’t

you think?"

"I know." He nodded and closed his eyes again. "I

know,  and  I’m sorry.  I just,  I  don’t  know what  else  to  do. I
don’t want to say this is over, but I can’t move forward with
it—any  of  it—until  I  have  some  time  to  sort  a  few  things
out."

What could I say to that? I shrugged, more out of

191

resignation than flippancy. "Whatever you need to do."

I wasn’t prepared when he reached across the narrow

distance between us and took my hand. The contact—
unexpected, unsettling, and unbearable—lodged my breath
in my throat.

"Jon, I’m sorry. Like I said, I’m not saying this is a

permanent thing. I’m not—" He stopped, drawing and
releasing a long, ragged breath. "Hell, I don’t know what it
is. I need some time to…" He trailed off, shaking his head. "I
just need some time."

I nodded, hoping he thought I understood. He

squeezed my hand, but there was little comfort to be found
in that gesture. A final touch before he walked out. A
reminder of what was about to be gone.

Avoiding his eyes, I gently withdrew my hand. If I’m

going to detach myself from this, better to just do it now.

"Whatever you need to do," I said. "I’ll be here."

Looking me in the eye, he managed a tight-lipped

smile.  I  couldn’t  even  begin  to  read  his  expression.  The
clenched  jaw  could  have  been  discomfort  in  an  awkward
situation,  or  it  might  have  had  something  to  do  with  the
trembling  in  his  hands.  The  creases  between  his  eyebrows
may have been uncertainty or concern. I looked down at my
own  wringing  hands  before  I  started  reading  too  much  into
the  extra  shine  that  my  wishful  thinking  had  probably
superimposed into his eyes.

"Jon, I’m sorry, I—"

"I know," I said quickly. Too quickly. I cleared my

throat. "Look, whatever you need to do. If you want to go,
I’m not going to stop you."

We sat in silence. I didn’t know what else to say. He

didn’t volunteer another apology or explanation.

After a while, he took a breath, then released it slowly.

"I should probably go."

But when will you be back? I didn’t speak, nor did I

look at him, as we stood and headed for the door.

We paused in the open doorway, an arm’s length or so

between  us,  and  I  chanced  a  look  at  him.  As  the  silence
dragged  on,  I  thought  for  a  moment  that  he  might  hug  me
or—worse—kiss me goodbye.

Mercifully, he didn’t; the only thing keeping me

192

together at that point was the fact that he hadn’t kissed me.
The touch of his hand on the couch had been more than
enough.

More than ever, I wanted to tell him I loved him, but I

bit my tongue so hard I almost drew blood. If he needed to
sort things out on his own, he didn’t need me to complicate
things. And if I said it, it would be real, and it would be that
much harder to let him go.

Finally, he dropped his gaze and we exchanged

whispered goodbyes. I watched him walk down the hall with
his hands in his pockets and shoulders bunched with tension.
I  wondered  if  that  tension  would  shake  itself  free  once  he
was out of sight, once he was safely away from me and could
at  last  draw  a  comfortable  breath.  Maybe  this  was  the
hardest  part  for  him,  and  now  he  was  home  free,  while  I
would  likely  be  up  all  night  trying  to  get  my  head  around
how  he’d  gone  from  the  Liam  in  my  bed  last  night  to  the
Liam that suddenly needed some 'time'.

He disappeared around the corner at the end of the

hall and I wondered just how much time he planned to take.

193

Thirty Six

Craig’s number came up on my caller ID and I

seriously considered letting it go to voicemail. It had only
been twenty-four hours since Liam left, and the last person I
wanted to deal with now was Craig.

But, his company was better than no company when

the silence reminded me too much of someone who wasn’t
here. Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I flipped my
phone open.

"What’s up?"

"You busy?" he asked.

"Not at the moment."

"Mind if I come by?"

I sighed. "Sure, why not?"

About twenty minutes after we hung up, Craig was at

my door.

"Coffee?" I asked as we went into the kitchen.

"No thanks." He leaned against the counter as I

poured myself a cup.

"So what’s new?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Nothing, really. Just thought I’d stop by

before I headed home."

"Problems with the missus?"

He laughed, but his eyes didn’t back it up. "Not really.

Just…" He scratched his neck. "Just don’t feel like going
home and dealing with wedding crap."

"Craig, you know I can’t be your hideout from the wife

forever."

Another shrug and half-hearted laugh. "I know. But I

hope you don’t mind it once in a while."

194

I sipped my coffee. "She already thinks I’m trying to

win you back."

"And she doesn’t know I’m here."

My chest tightened. Somehow that comment didn’t

grant me a whole lot of comfort.

"So anyway, you’re not out with your new man

tonight?" His smile seemed forced, like he wanted me to
think he was amused but was anything but.

Oh Jesus, do we have to go there? I folded my arms

across my chest and leaned against the counter. "We’re…" I
chewed my lip. "We’re not exactly together anymore."

He raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean ‘not

exactly’?"

Scratching the back of my neck, I shrugged and

avoided his eyes. "I don’t even know. Taking some time off,
figuring out what the hell is going on, taking a break." I
shrugged again. "He needed some time, so I gave it to him
and—" I paused, exhaling heavily. "I really don’t want to talk
about it."

"Okay, we won’t." Craig was silent for a long moment.

When I looked at him, he’d pursed his lips and was staring
into the middle distance, eyebrows pulled together as if he
was deep in thought.

Finally he said, "Jon, I’m making a huge mistake."
I furrowed my brow. "With what?"
"With the wedding."

As much as I hated to hear that he was having

problems with Rebecca, I couldn’t deny that I was glad for a
subject change. At least we weren’t discussing Liam.

Shifting my weight, I cocked my head. "So, are you

thinking of postponing it, then? Or what?"

He set his jaw and looked me in the eye. "I’m thinking

of calling it off."

I blinked. "Wow, that’s…" I shook my head. "What

happened? I mean, are you—"

"What happened," he paused, swallowing hard. "Is

that I never should have left you, Jon."

Just like when he’d asked me to be his best man, the

words knocked the air out of my lungs. "What?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "I don’t even know

why I did, but it was a huge mistake. And I—" He shook his

195

head, grimacing as if it hurt to speak. "It took seeing you
with someone else to realize that the only place I want to be
is here. With you."

I finally managed to exhale. "Are you—" I shook my

head as if it would clear away the confusion. "Are you asking
me to take you back?"

He didn’t hesitate. "Yes."

"Craig, this is insane," I said. "You’re engaged. You

said yourself you knew she was the right one for you. What
do—"

"I was wrong," he said sharply. He dropped his gaze.

"I realized it a while ago, but by that point, you were with…"
He scowled. "With him."

"He has a name, you know."

He wetted his lips and said, "You were with Liam."

"So if you knew you didn’t want to be with Rebecca,

why didn’t you call it off before? Were you just going to keep
leading her on, fucking marry her knowing—"

"It’s not that I don’t want to be with her," he said.

"It’s the fact that I do want to be with you. I love her and I
always will, but Jon…" His voice dropped to almost a whisper.
"I’m not in love with her like I am with you."

My heart fell into my feet. "You would leave her," I

said. "Call off your wedding, leave Rebecca, and come back
to me?"

He nodded. "Absolutely. In a heartbeat." He touched

my arm. "Jon, walking out on you was the biggest mistake
I’ve ever made. I’ll do whatever I have to do to make it up to
you. Please, just give me another chance."

"But, what about her?"

He chewed his lip. "Like I said, I love her. But, I can’t

go through with it. It’s going to hurt her, I know, but in the
long run…"

I swallowed hard, looking at his hand on my arm, at

his pleading eyes, at the floor. A lifetime ago, I would have
taken him back without hesitation. But things were different
now, weren’t they?

For reasons I couldn't comprehend, there was a very

good possibility that I was losing Liam. As much as it hurt, I
couldn’t allow myself to cling to the hope that he’d come
back. That wasn’t reason enough to take Craig back, though.

196

In fact, the glimmer of hope that Liam would come back had
nothing to do with my hesitation with Craig.

I realized that, at some point, my need to be with

Craig  was  simply  to  avoid  my  fear  of  not  being  with  Craig.
My  fear  of  being  alone.  Now  I  was  alone  again,  with  the
opportunity to have what I thought I wanted, but I couldn’t.
I couldn't be with Craig now that I knew what it was  like to
love someone after him. To love someone more than him.

He deserved more than second place. He deserved to

be more than the man I was with because the man I wanted
was  gone.  And  I  deserved  a  man  who  realized  he  loved  me
because  of  me,  not  because  he  saw  me  with  another  man
and got jealous.

A long time ago, this was what I’d wanted more than

anything. Now I realized that Craig and I both deserved
better than each other.

I took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. "No."
He blinked. "What?"
"No. I can’t do it."
His shoulders dropped. "So you really think he’s

coming back, then?"

I rolled my eyes. Of course. Clearly, if I’m rejecting

you, it’s because I know I have a fighting chance with
someone else. "Whether or not Liam is coming back has
nothing to do with this. I can’t be with you. I can’t do it."

"But, I thought you wanted—"
"That was before I did what you told me to do and

moved on," I said. "And, Christ, what about Rebecca? You
really want me to say, ‘yeah, go home and break her heart,
then come on back’?"

"It’s over with her either way," he said. "This is about

you and me."

"And there isn’t a you and me anymore."
"There can be."
"Craig, you left—"
"I told you, it was a mistake, I never should—"
"But you did. You left, you begged me to move on and

get over you, and now that I have, you want me to come
back."

"So you’re just going to hold it against me forever?"
"No." I took a breath. "I forgave you for it a long time

197

ago. I’m not holding anything against you."

"Then—"
"But that doesn’t mean I can be with you, Craig. I’m

sorry." I shrugged apologetically. "I still love you, but you
wanted me to move on, and I did. There’s no going back
now."

"Jon—"

"Craig, you’re about to marry Rebecca. You asked me

to be your best man. You’re—"

"And you are the best man, Jon," he said. "I should

have known from the beginning that you’re the best man for
me."

"And I thought from the beginning that you were the

best man for me," I said. "But that was only because I hadn’t
met him yet."

He flinched and tightened his lips.
"Craig, I’m sorry," I said, my voice gentler now. It

killed me to hurt him like this, but it had to be done. "I just,
I can’t. I’m sorry."

"So am I," he said. "Christ, I can’t believe I ever let

you go."

I wetted my lips. "It’s done, though."
"I know," he whispered. After a long pause, he went

on. "I have to confess something."

"You already have, haven’t you?"
He swallowed. "There’s more. Do you remember that

night I came here, after Rebecca and I had a fight? When I
came on to you?"

"Yes, I do," I said, trying to keep my voice even.
He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled heavily.

"It wasn’t the alcohol that did it. The alcohol had nothing to
do with it."

I gritted my teeth. "What do you mean?"
"I wasn’t drinking to calm down after fighting with

Rebecca, I was drinking to forget you. The fight was about
you—"

"What about me?"
"She was suspicious of you. Of us. I guess she thought

you were trying to get me to come back."

I folded my arms across my chest. "I don’t suppose

you gave her any reason to think that you were cheating on

198

her, did you?"

He raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean? She knew

you weren’t over me—"

"Really? So her worries had nothing at all to do with

the  fact  that  you’re  awfully  familiar  with  the  staffing  at
Wilde’s?  How  long  have  you  been  going  there,  anyway,
Craig?  Since  you  started  seeing  her?"  I  narrowed  my  eyes.
"Or longer?"

He flinched. "I never cheated on you, Jon."
So you say. "What about her? Did you cheat on her?"
He avoided my eyes and quickly changed the subject.

"Look, the night she and I fought, she thought I wasn’t over
you, and damn it, she’s right."

"What?" I was suddenly furious. "You left me, Craig.

What was there for you to get—"

"And you thought it was easy?"
"It sure as shit looked easy from here."
"It wasn’t."
"But you did it anyway. You moved on, you found

someone else, and you asked her to marry you. Don’t give
me this bullshit that—"

"It’s not bullshit, Jon." His voice faltered. "She knew it

before I did, and she’s exactly right. I’m not over you, I’m—"

"Then might I suggest getting over me?" I said, my

tone icy. "And answer my fucking question."

"What question?"
"Don’t play stupid. You know which question. Have

you cheated on her or not?"

"It’s none of your fucking business," he snarled.
"It is if you think I’d even consider taking you back," I

threw back. "You can’t be honest with her, why should I
believe you’ll be—"

"Yes, I cheated on her." He put his hands up. "I

fucking cheated on her. Happy?"

I laughed bitterly. "Oh, isn’t that ironic? All along she’s

been worried about me, and I’m probably the only man in
town you haven’t fucked since you—"

"What do you want me to do? I like men, I like

women, I—"

"Don’t even feed me that bullshit," I said. "It has

nothing to do with being bisexual. I like men, yet I manage

199

to keep my cock out of every man except the one I’m
dating."

He rolled his eyes. "You don’t understand—"
"Yeah, I don’t understand how you can put on the face

of the devoted fiancé to her, the prodigal ex-boyfriend to
me, and still pretend you’re within your rights to cheat."

"That’s enough," he snapped.
"Yeah, it is," I said. "Get out."
He blinked. "What? You’re going to throw me out

because I told you what I know you’ve wanted to hear all
along?"

"You told me a hell of a lot more than I ever wanted to

hear,"  I  said.  "I  wanted  you  back,  I  wanted  to  get  back
together,  but  that’s  in  the  past.  Before  I  met  Liam,  and
before  I  knew  that  you  cheated  on  Rebecca."  I  nodded
towards the door. "I’d rather not hear anymore."

"Jon—"
"You know what?" I put my hands up. "You were

absolutely right when you said I needed to get over you, and
I’m glad I did. Pity you didn’t give me this little speech that
night instead of tonight. You probably would have had a
shot, and I’d probably have no clue what a self-centered,
self-righteous bastard you are."

"Jon—"
"Get. Out. Of. My. House."
He glared at me, then stormed out of the kitchen. I

followed, and for the first time, felt absolutely nothing at the
sight  of  his  back.  I  could  barely  believe  there  was  ever  a
time  I  had  to  keep  myself  from  begging  him  to  stay.  That
there was ever a time I did beg him to stay.

This was the man I couldn’t live without?
He paused partway through the door, taking a breath

as if he was about to give some dramatic parting words as
he always did. I folded my arms across my chest and waited.

"I don’t think I’ll need you as my best man." He looked

at me, his expression pitifully pained, waiting for me to
respond somehow.

Leaning casually against the doorframe, I simply said,

"Likewise."

200

Thirty Seven

A knock at the door startled me. I lowered my book

and glanced at the clock. It was almost ten on a Wednesday
night and I certainly wasn’t expecting anyone.

"Who is it?" I called, eyeing the door warily, double-

checking from a distance that the deadbolt and chain were in
place.

"It’s Liam."

Before he’d even finished saying his name, I was off

the  couch  and  halfway  to  the  door.  I  wondered  how  I’d
missed  the  sound  of  his  motorcycle  pulling  into  the  parking
lot;  I  could  usually  hear  that  thing  from  a  block  away.  My
heart  pounding,  I  turned  the  deadbolt  and  unhooked  the
chain.

When I opened the door, he met my eyes, then

quickly dropped his gaze.

"Hey," I said.

His eyes darted to one side, looking down the hall in

the direction he’d just come, then he cleared his throat. "Can
I come in?"

I nodded and stepped aside, my stomach doing flips

as I took in his appearance, which was even more surprising
than his arrival: He was pale. No, not pale. White. Blanched.
His pallor contrasted sharply with the fading bruise beside his
mouth, each dramatic color emphasizing the other.

He still wore his tux shirt from work, the cuffs hanging

loose  around  his  wrists  and  the  lower  halves  of  the  sleeves
rippled  as  if  they’d  been  rolled  up  most  of  the  day.  The
familiar  bowtie  and  cummerbund  were  gone,  his  collar
unbuttoned and his shirt untucked.

201

Just above the back of his collar, his hair looked damp

with sweat, and the low light in the room caught a few beads
of perspiration that dotted his forehead.

I sat on the armrest of the sofa and watched him, as

baffled by his appearance as his very presence. He wrung his
hands and walked across the living room. Probably pacing as
he always did when he was nervous. He paused to glance out
the window, something seeming to catch his eye in the
parking lot below before he turned and faced me. And
stopped. Didn’t pace. Just stood, still wringing his hands, but
otherwise unmoving.

I raised my eyebrows. "Liam, what’s wrong?"

My voice seemed to startle him, as if he’d either

forgotten  I  was  there  or  just  hadn’t  expected  me  to  say
anything.  He  glanced  over  his  shoulder,  out  the  window
again, then looked at me.

"Sorry I didn’t call first," he said quietly.

I waved it away. "It’s okay. You’re here. What’s up?"
He took a couple of long breaths, hesitating like he

was trying to find the right words. When the words came,
they came fast. "Look, I’m just gonna cut right to the chase.
No point in beating around the bush." The more he said, the
faster he spoke and the more his hands shook. "I really had
a great time being with you, we had a lot of fun, everything
about it—"

"But you’re calling it off." Something sank deep in the

pit of my stomach. When he avoided my eyes and nodded, it
sank deeper.

"Travis and I…" He trailed off, closing his eyes and

tightening his jaw.

And deeper still, it sank. "You’re back together with

him?"

He nodded and exhaled heavily. "I’m sorry, Jon, I—"
"I’m sure you are," I snapped, hoping the ice in my

voice masked how much this hurt. Go ahead and leave, but I
won’t give you the satisfaction of seeing me hurt if that’s
what you want.

He flinched, but said nothing.
My anger grew as the silence lingered. He’d said his

piece, so was he waiting for me to say something? Was I
supposed to wish him well on his way, tell him we’ll always

202

be friends, and give my regards to Travis?

Through clenched teeth, I said, "So is this the part

where you tell me we’ll still be friends and all of that
bullshit?" The shakiness in my voice killed the effect of the
sarcasm.

"No," he said simply, staring at the floor and shaking

his head.

I blinked. "Then what else is there?"
"Nothing." He sniffed sharply and ran an unsteady

hand through his hair. "Nothing. There’s nothing else." Then
he shrugged, the gesture not coming across nearly as
flippantly as I think he intended.

I rose. "Then why are you still here?"
His lips tightened. At first I thought it was an angry

scowl,  but  then  I  realized  that  he  was  trying  to  keep  from
trembling. I swallowed hard. He was leaving me, why was he
getting  emotional?  I’m  the  one  who’s  supposed  to  be
hurting. You’ve got a man. You’re choosing this, not me.

He opened his mouth as if to speak, then wetted his

lips, released a breath, and headed for the door. I followed,
unsure if I wanted to beg him to stay or tell him not to let
the door hit him.

On his way out, he paused in the doorway. I instantly

had  a  sense  of  déjà  vu  from  the  day  Craig  asked  me  to  be
his best man, when he’d paused the same way before telling
me  to  promise  him  that  I  would  make  myself  happy.  A
promise  I  tried  to  fulfill  by  way  of  my  relationship  with
Liam—Oh, irony, you are such a bitch.

I watched him, waiting for him to either say what was

on his mind or leave. Tell me to make myself happy, Liam, I
fucking dare you.

Finally, he looked at me, and it was then that I noticed

the hint of red around his pale green eyes. Barely
whispering, he said, "Trust me, it’s better this way."

And he was gone.
I listened until I could no longer hear his footsteps

down the hall, then closed the door and convinced my numb
legs carry me back to the couch. I sank onto the cushions,
absently picking up my book as if my body somehow thought
that returning to what I was doing earlier could negate
everything that had just happened.

203

In the parking lot below, a car door slammed and an

engine purred to life. I thought the roar of his motorcycle
would hurt, but the nearly inaudible sound of the car was like
a knife in the gut. Had your man bring you to dump me. How
classy.

The engine faded into the night and the cold silence of

life uninterrupted returned.

The clock on the DVD player said that less than ten

minutes had passed since Liam first knocked.

Over and over I replayed that brief encounter, trying

to  make  heads  or  tails  of  it.  I  knew  he’d  needed  time  to
think,  that  he’d  acted  strangely  the  night  my  car  was
vandalized,  but  going  back  to  Travis?  That  came  out  of  left
field.

He’d been known to act strangely, but I’d never seen

him so agitated. Shaking, sweating, pale. He was nervous,
but didn’t pace like he sometimes did. Aside from walking to
the window to look outside, he’d stayed in the same place
the entire time. It was as if he could barely move.

Try as I might, I couldn’t make any of it add up. But it

didn’t have to make sense. Logical or not, rational or not, it
was. That was all that mattered.

I was here, Liam was gone, and it didn’t matter why.

204

Thirty Eight

I barely slept that night. The next day, the only thing I

could  think  about  at  work  was  Liam.  As  the  hours  passed,
though, I thought less about the fact that he’d left and more
about  how  he’d  left.  It  hurt  to  know  that  he  was  gone,  but
the confusion was even worse.

I’d never seen him that nervous before. Or that pale.

In my mind, I relived the conversation again, this time

with the sound turned off.

Glancing out the window. Sweat darkening the ends of

his hair and beading on his forehead. Wringing his hands.
Not pacing. The flippant shrug that was anything but.

The way he looked at me when he said it was better

this way.

I shivered. He didn’t just look nervous. Just like he did

that night my tires were slashed, just before he turned off
the light to go to sleep, he looked downright terrified.

Of what? Of me?

Something wasn’t adding up.

"Travis and I…"

My blood ran cold.

~ * ~

Liam’s bike was parked outside of Wilde’s that night. I

chewed my lip as I got out of my car, wondering if this was
such a good idea. He’d made it clear that whatever we’d had
was over, that he was with Travis now and it was better this
way, but I needed to know.

When I walked into the club, I didn’t see him at first,

but as I took a seat at the bar, he came out from the back.
His eyes were down, his shoulders bunched with tension.

205

One of the other bartenders said something to him and he
responded with little more than a half-nod and maybe one or
two words.

Liam knelt and reached under the bar, rifling around

for  something.  When  he  found  what  he  was  looking  for  and
stood, he glanced in my direction and did a double take, eyes
widening  and  spine  straightening.  The  stunned  expression
immediately darkened to one of anger. He said something to
the  other  bartender,  who  cast  a  glance  in  my  direction  and
nodded.

Without stopping to tend to any of the customers

along the way, Liam came straight to me. He rested his
hands on the bar and said in a low growl, "What the fuck are
you doing here?"

This icy reception immediately set my teeth on edge.

You come into my house and give me the boot, then get
pissed when I show up here? "Wilde’s is open to the public,
isn’t it?"

He glanced past me, then looked at me and shifted his

weight. "Cut the crap, Jon. Why are you here?"

I let out a breath, trying to keep my tone even.

"Because I think we need to talk. About last night."

"No, we don’t. There’s nothing left to talk about."

"I think there is."

"Jon, it’s over," he snapped. "Do us both a favor and

accept it."

"I can accept it if it’s over, but what I can’t accept is

why you were in my apartment looking like you were scared
out of your—"

"Oh for fuck’s sake, that’s bullshit."

"Is it? Hell, you didn’t even pace—"

"I pace when I’m nervous."

"Exactly my point."

"Maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t nervous."

"Bullshit you weren’t. Liam, you were shaking."

He avoided my eyes and shifted his weight, glancing

past me again before his eyes darted to the bar. "Look, I
wasn’t nervous, but I didn’t exactly want to be there, either.
I just wanted to get it done and over with and get the fuck
out of there. It needed to be done, but that doesn’t mean I
enjoyed it."

206

"Yeah, I could tell. But the way you were acting was

completely out of character—"

"Why? Because I’d never walked out on you before?"

He laughed. "Get over yourself, Jon. Just because you’d
never seen me leave—"

"I have seen you leave," I snapped. "That wasn’t the

first time you’ve walked out."

He leaned across the bar, narrowing his eyes and

tightening his jaw. "No, but it is the last time. I’m sorry if
you can’t accept it, but it’s over. I’m back with Travis, and—"

"Are you happy with him?"

His lips thinned. "Of course I am. Why would I stay

with him if I wasn’t?"

"You tell me."

"I did. I told you it was over and that I’m with Travis."

"Yeah, pity your body language didn’t back it up."

He rolled his eyes. "You were seeing what you wanted

to see, Jon." He looked me in the eye, the intensity of his
glare nearly sending me backwards. "It’s over. I’m with
Travis. Get over it, and get the fuck out of here before I have
you thrown out."

If I was confused the night before, I was even more so

now. Last night, he was shaking like a leaf. Tonight, he was
as angry as I should have been with him. "Liam—"

"Jesus, Jon, how much clearer can I make it?" He

pushed himself back from the bar. "Do us both a favor and
don’t come back here again." With that, he looked past me
and beckoned sharply to someone, then nodded towards me
and walked away without giving me a second look.

A second later, a hand grabbed my arm. I looked up to

see Casey.

"Looks like you’re out of here," he said. I couldn’t be

sure, but I swore he sounded apologetic.

I nodded. "You don’t have to throw me out. I’ll go."

He glanced away—probably at Liam—then released my

arm. His looming presence stayed behind me as I headed
through the crowd towards the door.

On the way out, another patron in a dimly lit booth

looked  at  me  over  his  drink.  He  ran  a  hand  through  his
unruly  blond  hair  and  kept  his  narrowed  eyes  on  me  as  I
walked past.

207

A memory flickered through my mind of watching the

bouncers throw someone out, and I realized it was the same
guy.

I do not want to see your fucking face in this place

again,  I  remembered  Liam’s  boss  shouting  after  him.
Apparently  such  a  banning  wasn’t  permanent,  even  in  a
place like Wilde’s.

Great, maybe in a few months I can come back and

see what else this meat market has to offer.

As I stepped out into the cool evening air, Casey

followed. When the door banged shut behind us, he said,
"Jon, I don’t want to, but I have to tell you this. If you come
back—"

I put my hand up and nodded. "You’ll call the cops. I

get it."

"Sorry, man," he said. "The bartenders get a lot of

harassment as it is. We have to be strict about it."

"I’m not here to harass him. I just wanted to talk, we

talked, and I’m leaving. You won’t see me here again."

He sighed and reached for the door. Shaking his head,

he said, "That’s really too bad." And he was gone.

I stared at the door for a moment, not sure how to

take that. Then I went to my car and left.

Gripping the steering wheel with whitening knuckles, I

ground my teeth and tried to make sense of it all.

I was more confused than ever, just as I had been

when  Craig  left.  Though  I  couldn’t  make    sense  of  Liam’s
bizarre attitude last night and tonight, it was what it was. It
was  over.  As  I  pulled  into  my  apartment  parking  lot,  I
realized  that  no  amount  of  trying  to  rationalize  or  read
between the lines would change that bottom line, so I might
as well not even bother trying to figure it out.

And I would be damned if I spent six months trying to

get over Liam like I did Craig.

208

Thirty Nine

Saturday

afternoon,

dropped

the

box

unceremoniously  in  the  passenger  seat  of  my  car  and
nudged the door shut with my hip. Liam had left a jacket and
a few other things in my apartment, and I couldn’t deal with
their  presence  anymore.  I’d  held  onto  some  of  Craig’s  stuff
for months, hoping it would give him an excuse to come by.

Not this time. I’d wasted enough time getting over

Craig, I was going to do everything in my power to expedite
the process this time around. In fact, the last of Craig’s crap
was in the backseat, too. If this was a day for exorcising
demons, then I was going to get all of them.

On the way to Wilde’s, I debated going out to another

club  after  I  was  finished  with  my  deliveries  to  Liam  and
Craig. Maybe I could actually pull off the "one night" part of a
one  night  stand.  Have  some  fun,  then  move  on  without
getting  so  involved.  I  was  more  than  content  to  stay  single
for  a  while,  but  a  night  of  hot,  sweaty,  meaningless  sex
sounded like heaven.

I parked and walked into the club with the box.

Casey saw me and stepped in front of the door. "Jon,

you know I can’t—"

"I’m not going in," I said.

He blinked. "Then what—" He looked at the box in my

hand.

"I’m just dropping something off," I said. "Would you

mind giving this to Liam?"

He eyed the box, then shrugged. "Sure, no problem." I

handed it to him and walked away, relieved of the weight of
Liam’s presence in my life.

209

With my hands in my pockets, I headed back to the

car, counting my regrets and silently wishing Liam a nice life.
On to Craig’s.

"Jon, wait!"

Liam’s voice stopped my feet on the pavement and my

breath  in  my  throat.  Gritting  my  teeth,  I  turned  around  to
see  him  sprinting  across  the  parking  lot  just  like  the  other
bartender he’d sent after me a lifetime ago. My heart wanted
to  skip  at  the  sight  of  him,  but  I  refused  to  allow  myself
anything but anger at his presence.

"Jon," he said, stopping a few feet short of me. "We

need to talk."

I tried to keep my expression neutral, but some of the

pent-up anger came through in my voice. "What else is there
to talk about?"

In a low voice, he said, "I need to explain a few

things."

"You said there was nothing else to say."

"I know," he paused, chewing his lip. "But there is.

There’s more."

I rolled my eyes. "Do I need to know exactly why

you’d rather be with him than me? Because quite honestly, I
don’t fucking care."

He dropped his gaze. "Look, I know you’re pissed, and

I don’t blame you at all, but—" He cast a sweeping glance
around the parking lot, then looked at me. "There are some
things I need you to know."

"For your benefit or mine?" I growled.

His gaze swept around the parking lot again, eyes

flicking  twice  towards  the  club’s  front  door  as  he  shifted  his
weight.  When  he  met  my  eyes  again,  the  look  on  his  face
was…  haunted.  Something  flipped  in  my  stomach  when  he
said, "Jon, please."

I chewed the inside of my cheek. "Fine."

Shifting his weight, he said, "Can we take it inside?"

"Oh why the fuck not?" I muttered. I followed him

around to the back of the club, biting back the temptation to
point  out  that  this  was  all  déjà  vu.  We  again  went  through
the  door  marked  Employees  Only,  and  were  again  in  that
tiny, silent hallway.

He went to close one door. I closed the other, silently

210

daring him to even try to touch me when I faced him again.

But he didn’t. He leaned against the door he’d just

closed. I folded my arms across my chest and leaned on the
opposite wall.

After a moment, he pushed himself off the door and

paced, staring at the floor between us. "I made a huge
mistake."

This conversation was already sounding entirely too

familiar. I gritted my teeth. "Let me guess," I said, bitterness
seeping into my tone. "He left you again? Going back to your
placeholder until he comes back?"

He flinched, but still didn’t look at me. "When you

came in last night, you were right. About how I was the night
I told you it was over."

That gave me pause. "What do you mean?"
He swallowed hard and hesitated, as if it hurt to think

about it, let alone say it. "Travis didn’t leave me, Jon. He
never did."

"So, what? You were cheat—"

"I kicked him out." He raised his eyes to meet mine.

"Before I met you. He didn’t leave me, I threw him out."

I cocked my head, shifting my weight slightly.

"Okay…"

He lowered his gaze again. "I threw him out after he

quite literally threw me out one night."

My jaw dropped. "He— what?"

"About six months ago. We had a fight that ended in

the stairwell. Four broken ribs and a concussion later, I
decided I’d had enough. It just took me a few months to
actually get the balls to follow through with it."

A memory of a passionate moment on that very

stairwell gave me chills. "Then," I said, my mouth suddenly
dry. "Why did you go back to him?"

Looking me straight in the eye, he said, "To protect

you."

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

"What? Protect me?"

"From Travis."

I suppressed a shiver. "Why would you need to protect

me from your ex?"

He ran a shaking hand through his hair. "Because he’s

211

been stalking me—both of us—ever since we started dating."

The wall behind me was the only thing that kept me

standing at that point. "What are you talking about?"

He took a deep breath. "The night you came here,

after  the  first  time  we  slept  together,  he  was  here."  He
swallowed  hard.  "That’s  why  I  gave  you  the  cold  shoulder
when  you  came  in.  I  was  thrilled  to  see  you,  but  I  didn’t
want  him  to…"  He  trailed  off,  then  took  another  breath.  "I
didn’t  want  him  to  know  that  I  knew  you,  let  alone  that  I
wanted you."

"That’s why you sent the other bartender after me," I

whispered.

He nodded. "I wasn’t about to leave the club until I

knew  he  was  gone,  so  I  waited  until  they  kicked  him  out.
He’s  not  stupid  enough  to  do  anything  in  a  place  like  this,
especially not with the bouncers right there. My boss wanted
to  call  the  cops,  but  I  told  him  not  to.  I  was  afraid  it  would
just get worse." He gestured dismissively. "So I waited until
they got him out of there, then came to find you."

That night replayed in my mind, several pieces falling

together and making me shudder. "The bandage on your
wrist—"

"Was from him," he said in a resigned tone. "And

this—" He pointed at the mostly-healed cut on the corner of
his mouth. "It wasn’t from a bar brawl. There hasn’t been a
fight in this place in months." He let out a ragged breath.
"Travis showed up here that night. We got into it in the
parking lot and…" He gestured at the cut again.

"And the other night?"
He swallowed hard. "He was here. He’s always here in

the evenings if I’m working." Shifting nervously, he glanced
at his watch. "Still another hour or so yet, but he’ll be here
tonight too."

I rubbed my eyes, trying to comprehend it all. "And all

of this was after you kicked him out?"

"Well, yeah, he didn’t have to stalk me when I was

with him." He laughed bitterly. "When I’m under his thumb,
he’s happy. He’s been trying to get me back under it ever
since I kicked him out."

"And so you got back under it?" I said.
He sighed heavily. "I thought I’d left him for good this

212

time.  I  thought  I  could  deal  with  the  stalking,  the
confrontations.  He  roughed  me  up  once  in  a  while,  followed
me all over the place, but I thought he’d eventually get tired
of it." His jaw tightened and he looked up at the ceiling, as if
the  floor’s  scrutiny  was  now  as  unbearable  as  mine.  "You
don’t  know  how  much  it  hurt  to  walk  away  from  you  the
other night."

"Then why did you? Why not—"
"I thought he was just fucking with me." He closed his

eyes.  "I  mean,  he’d  follow  me.  He’d  follow  us."  With  what
seemed a great deal of effort, he looked at me. "But when he
fucked  with  your  car  at  your  work,  and  then  you  told  me
about  the  accident…"  He  paused,  taking  a  deep  breath.  "I
was afraid he would hurt you."

"So you," I paused, shaking my head in disbelief. "So

you went back to him? After everything he’s done?"

He swallowed hard. "Yes. I confronted him about it—

the  accident,  the  slashed  tires—and…"  He  shivered  and
shook  his  head,  then  ran  a  hand  through  his  hair. "Jon,  if  I
had known it would come down to this, I would have told  ou
in the beginning. I guess I hoped he would get the message
and  move  on.  I  would  have  told  you  all  of  this  the  other
night,  but  he  was  here.  And  I  would  have  told  you  at  your
apartment the other night, but he was also there. With me."

My blood turned to ice as I remembered the car in the

parking lot. "You brought him to my apartment?"

"No," he said. "He brought me." He bit his lip, avoiding

my eyes again. "And the whole time I was in your
apartment, I didn’t know if he was waiting in the car or—" He
paused, taking a breath. "Or waiting right outside your door.
And he told me that either I went upstairs and told you it
was over or…"

My heart pounded. I couldn’t tell if I was angry,

terrified, devastated, or a mix of all three. I wetted my lips.
"So he told you to come up and tell me, or what?"

He tightened his arms across his chest, evidently

trying—unsuccessfully—to still the shaking in his hands. "Or
he was going to tell you for me."

A sick feeling twisted in my gut. "Why didn’t you say

something? Tell me, give —"

"And what?" he snapped. "Keep going like nothing

213

ever happened and just wait for him to hurt you?" He took a
breath. "I’ve put up with his shit for a long time, but I’ll be
damned if I was going to let him hurt you. He’s already made
it clear that that’s not beneath him, and I know what he’s
capable of."

"This is insane." I rubbed my eyes. Anger mingled with

the  unsettled,  vulnerable  feeling  of  paranoia,  my  heart
pounding  as  I  wondered  how  long  I’d  been  in  how  much
danger.

"It is. And I’m sorry I got you involved in it. If I had

known  he’d  even  think  of  laying  a  hand  on  you,  I  never
would  have  put  you  in  this  situation."  His  voice  shook  as
badly  as  his  hands. "I  couldn’t  sit  back  and  let  you  get  hurt
because  of  someone  I  dragged  into  your  life."  His  voice
dropped, as did his gaze. "Even if it meant I had to hurt you
myself."

I could barely breathe. Closing my eyes, I let my head

fall against the wall, just trying to comprehend everything
he’d said. I came to the club to exorcise him from my life, to
get started getting over him, and now this?

"Jon, I swear to God, this is all true," he said, barely

whispering.  "I  know  it  all  sounds  insane,  but,  it’s  true.  I
just…" His voice was unsteady. "I needed you to know why I
left.  And  that  I’m  sorry.  It  killed  me  to  walk  away  from  you
the  other  night,  knowing  I’d  hurt  you  like  that,  but  I  didn’t
have a choice."

"So what are you going to do now?" I asked. "Just

stay with him until the next time he throws you down a flight
of stairs?"

Liam shuddered, but said nothing. After a while, he let

out a breath, his shoulders sagging slightly. "That’s all I
wanted to tell you. I just wanted you to know the truth."

For a long time, we were both silent. If he was lying,

he was a damned good actor. But I didn’t think he was lying.
As  my  mind  replayed  everything  from  the  beginning,  it  all
made  perfect  sense:  The  bruises.  The  cut  on  his  lip.  The
slashed  tires.  The  way  he  shuddered  at  the  mention  of  his
ex.

It wasn’t a lie. He wasn’t weaving some elaborate tale

to manipulate me into forgiving him and taking him back.

More than that, I realized he wasn’t trying to win me

214

back at all. He’d made no effort to convince me to take him
back. He didn’t want a second chance. If anything, he simply
wanted me to know why. The only thing he wanted in return
was a moment to hear him out and, if I was willing to give it,
the cold comfort of absolution before we went our separate
ways.

Before I went back to my life alone and he went back

to Travis.

Swallowing a lump in my throat, I shivered at the

thought of what he was going home to after his shift ended.

"When you left the other night," I said quietly. "Did

you want to stay with me, or go with him?"

"That night…" He set his jaw. "That night, or any

night, I’ve never wanted to be with anyone more than I
wanted to be with you."

At that, I pushed myself off the wall and came towards

him. "Then be with me."

"It’s not that simple, Jon," he said. "I can’t put you in

danger like that."

I put my hands on his hips. He started to shy away,

glancing around the tiny room as if Travis might suddenly
walk in through one of the three closed doors.

"Liam, look at me."

Swallowing hard, he did.

"I know you want to protect me," I said. "But what

about you?"

"I’ll be fine." He smiled, but it was obviously forced.

"As long as I know you’re okay, I’ll be fine."

"And you think I can just walk away and live with the

fact that you’re with an asshole like him so that I don’t get
hurt?"

He lowered his gaze. "What do you want me to do?

He’s going to make my life hell either way. At least this way,
he’s not making yours hell."

I touched his face. "Yes, he is."

He looked me in the eye again. "Jon—"

"I can’t let you stay with him," I said. "Not if he’s

treating you that way. If you left because you’re happier with
him, then, fine, I wouldn’t stand in your way. I want you to
do whatever it takes to be happy. But you’re not."

"You make it sound easy to walk away from someone

215

like that," he said. "It’s not. If it was, I’d have done it a long
time ago. He’s unstable, he’s relentless, and he’s fucking
dangerous."

"Then press charges against him," I said. "Fucking do

something, but don’t stay under his thumb—"

He wrenched free and brushed past me, stopping with

his back to me. "You don’t get it, Jon," he growled. "I’m
under his thumb whether I like it or not. The cops haven’t
done shit to help. Believe me, I’ve tried."

"So what are you going to do?" I snarled, not sure if

my sudden anger was directed at him or at Travis. "Just let
him keep running your life like this?"

"There’s nothing I can do, Jon. Jesus Christ, if there

was, I’d have done it by now."

"So you’ll just keep taking whatever he gives you until

he cripples you or fucking kills you?"

"If that’s what I have to do, I will."
"That’s insane! You can’t live like—"
"I can, and I will. I hate the bastard and everything

he’s done to me, but I’ll live with it—"

"Why, Liam? He’s going to fucking—"
He turned around, his eyes wet with tears but narrow

with fury. "Because I love you too much to let him hurt you."

I forgot how to breathe. We stared at each other in

silence. Then his shoulders dropped slightly and he slumped
against the wall, letting out a breath as he closed his eyes.

"Liam," I whispered, touching his arm gently. "That’s

why I can’t let him hurt you either."

He opened his eyes. "Jon…"
Neither of us spoke. I let my hand slide down his arm,

stopping when my fingers were against the backs of his. And
I waited. Hoped.

After an eternity, his hand turned and he laced his

fingers  between  mine.  We  looked  at  each  other  in  silence,
the  air  in  the  tiny  room  coming  to  life  as  Liam’s  thumb
moved slowly back and forth across mine.

I stepped closer to him, halving the distance that

separated us, leaving the rest for him to cross. After only a
moment’s hesitation, he put his arm around my waist.

Just like the first time he kissed me a lifetime ago, we

came together slowly, breathing each other closer until his

216

lips  brushed  mine  so  lightly  I  could  have  been  imagining  it.
Then  he  put  his  hand  on  the  back  of  my  neck.  Whether  to
keep  me  there  or  to  draw  himself  closer,  I  don’t  know,  but
whatever  the  case,  he  pressed  his  lips  to  mine  and  melted
my balance. My knees turned to water as  his tongue parted
my lips.

Wrapping my arms around him, I savored the taste of

his kiss, not realizing until that moment just how much I’d
missed it. How much I’d missed him. I came here to get over
him, but in this moment, was more in love with him than
ever.

He broke the kiss and looked at me, his smile less

forced this time. "I love you," he whispered.

"I love you, too," I said, struggling to keep my

emotions in check.

His lips had just barely touched mine again before he

abruptly  broke  the  kiss,  but  he  didn’t  pull  away.  Resting  his
forehead  against  mine,  he  ran  his  thumb  over  my
cheekbone. "This is dangerous."

"I know." Without another word, I kissed him again.

After a while, he looked at me again. Running his

fingers through my hair, he took a breath. "So what do we
do now?"

"I don’t know," I said. "But this is a damned good

start."

"What about Travis?"

A shiver ran up my spine. "We’ll figure it out." I

touched his face. "I don’t know exactly how, but we’ll figure
it out."

217

Forty

Liam put the key in his door, but didn’t turn it.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked.
I kept my hands in my pockets so I wouldn’t wring

them nervously. "What’s the alternative?"

He shook his head. "There isn’t one. But you don’t

have to be here for it."

I put my hand on his shoulder. "Yes, I do."
Our eyes met, but his expression was blank. Finally he

shifted his attention back to the key in the door. Swallowing
hard, he turned it and we went into his silent, empty
apartment.

Even though Travis wasn’t there and hadn’t been for

hours, the air seemed icy with the echoes of his presence.
Liam shivered, so I didn’t think it was just my imagination. I
wondered what had gone on here in recent days.

Liam stopped, looking around the living room, chewing

his lip. Finally he said, "I need to get out of my work
clothes." He gestured for me to come with him as he started
down the hall.

I didn’t question him, just followed him into the

bedroom. He probably just needed something to occupy his
mind for a few minutes. Something to do besides wait.

"Did Casey and Jack say how long they’d be?" I asked,

leaning against the doorframe in the bedroom.

"Hopefully not long. Casey was clocking off when we

left,  and  Jack  wasn’t  far  behind."  He  reached  back  to
unbuckle  his  cummerbund  and  I  realized  his  hands  were
shaking.  "Fucking  thing,"  he  muttered  as  the  buckle
stubbornly held.

218

"Here, I’ll get it." I gently nudged his hands away and

unbuckled it. When my fingers grazed the back of his shirt, it
was cold with sweat.

"Thanks," he said quietly as I handed him the

cummerbund. He glanced at me, his Adam’s apple bobbing
as he untied his bowtie. "I’m sorry I didn’t tell you all of this
before."

"Liam, I told you, I understand."
He sighed. "I know, I just…" He shook his head. "I

can’t believe I got you involved in this."

"But I am involved." I touched his arm gently. "And

I’m here now because I want to be."

He avoided my eyes and unbuttoned his shirt. "If you

knew what you were getting into, you wouldn’t be."

"I know what I’m getting into," I said. "That’s why I’m

here. Because I don’t want you going into it alone."

Shrugging his shirt off, he tossed it onto the bed.

"He’ll be here in the next hour," he said quietly. "If you
change your mind—"

"I won’t."
He met my eyes briefly. "If you do, I won’t hold it

against you if you leave."

"I’m not leaving unless you want me to."
His lips thinned. He started to pull his T-shirt off, but

hesitated. His eyes shifted towards me, then back to the
floor, and he pulled it off. As he turned to throw it on the bed
with his tux shirt, my heart fell into my feet.

On the left side of his lower back, a dark, round bruise

about half the size of my fist glared back at me. It was still
an angry purple in spite of the yellowish haze around it, as if
it had been healing for a while, but wouldn’t be fading
anytime soon.

I met his eyes in the mirror. He was watching me.
I took a breath. "What happened?" In the mirror, his

eyes shifted to the right. I followed his gaze, swallowing the
nausea that rose in my throat when I saw the way the
bathroom door was splintered on its hinges. With a chill, I
took note of the height of the doorknob.

Liam turned around. "I’m serious, Jon," he whispered.

"If you want to leave…"

"I’m serious, too. And I should have known something

219

was up when you came by my place. If I had known…"

"But you didn’t know," he said. "And even if you had,

there was nothing you could have done."

"Either way, I’m here, and I’m not leaving."
For a moment, we were both quiet, just looking at

each  other.  In  a  way  it  reminded  me  of  the  first  night  he
came  to  my  apartment,  when  we’d  stood  like  this,  each
waiting for the other to make a move towards the inevitable.
The tension between us was different this time, though. The
desire  was  still  there,  smoldering  in  the  background  and
ready  to  be  awakened  when  this  storm  had  passed,  but  the
immediate need reflecting  in his eyes and in me went much
deeper.

Liam put his hand on my waist, pausing to take a

breath as if even this simple contact was too much for him.
After a moment, his hand slid around to the small of my back
and I put my arms around his neck. When he kissed me, he
held me closer and his body relaxed against mine.

His kiss was as passionate as it always was, but this

was anything but sexual. Just a chance to silently reconnect,
reassure,  and  have  a  minute  of  respite  from  everything  we
faced.  Though  the  rest  of  the  night  and  the  foreseeable
future  were  uncertain,  he  granted  himself  this  moment  to
exhale.

As much as he’d tried to encourage me to take my

leave and let him face Travis alone, everything about his kiss
said I’m glad you’re here. It was surreal to think that earlier
this evening, I’d come to sever what remaining ties I had
with him. Now, come what may when Travis arrived, I
couldn’t imagine being anywhere but there.

A knock at the door brought the moment to an end,

Liam’s body tensing against mine.

"That must be Jack or Casey," he said.
I shivered. They didn’t intimidate me, but their

presence reminded me of what I’d just spent a minute trying
to forget. "I’ll go let them in."

"Thanks," he whispered. He kissed me lightly and we

exchanged nervous smiles before I left the bedroom. I closed
the door behind me and went to the front door.

When I opened it, Casey’s eyes widened. "Jon? I didn’t

expect—"

220

"I know," I said. "But I’m here."
He shrugged and came in, looking around. "Where’s

Liam?"

"Bedroom," I said, nodding towards the closed door.

"Changing clothes."

Casey looked down at his shirt and cummerbund.

"Well, damn, if I’d known this was informal…"

I laughed. "I’m sure he wouldn’t have minded if you’d

dressed down."

He shrugged again. "No biggie. I’m used to fucking

people up when I wear this." He cracked his knuckles and I
swallowed nervously.

The bedroom door opened. "Hey, Casey," Liam said.

He came out in jeans and a sweatshirt. Tonight, even the
casual clothes couldn’t make him look relaxed.

"Hey, man," Casey said. "Jack’s on his way. Should be

here any minute."

Liam nodded, putting his hands in his pockets. "I

guess we’ll just wait, then."

I wasn’t sure if he was referring to the arrival of Jack

or Travis.

Casey eased himself onto the sofa, leaning back and

making himself at home, but his relaxed posture didn’t
negate the tightness of his jaw. I sat on one of the recliners,
trying not to wring my hands.

Liam, true to form, paced.
No one spoke.
About five minutes after Casey arrived, Jack showed

up,  taking  a  seat  on  the  other  end  of  the  sofa  as  we  all
waited. Liam and the bouncers talked a little about work, but
it  had  that  stilted,  scripted  sound  of  people  making
conversation just to fill a nervous void. For the most part, we
were  all  silent.  The  only  sounds  were  Liam’s  padding
footsteps  and  the  occasional  scuff  when  he  turned  on  his
heel  to  go  the  other  way.  Outside,  the  steady  mumble  of
passing  cars  emphasized  how  quiet  the  apartment  was.  The
only  thing  missing  was  a  loudly  ticking  clock  to  make  the
wait a little less bearable.

At about twenty minutes before nine, Liam stopped

pacing, his spine stiffening and his breath catching. The color
drained from his face and I swore I felt the hairs standing on

222

Forty One

The bouncers both leaned forward in their seats,

resting  elbows  on  knees,  brows  pinching  together  as  they
watched  the  door.  Ready  to  be  on  their  feet  at  a  moment’s
notice.

Footsteps thudded down the hall outside. Then a

shadow darkened the line of light below the front door.

The front door that—I realized just before it opened—

was closer to me than anyone in the room. Panic twisted in
my gut, but before I could put a little more distance between
myself and the door, it opened.

As soon as Travis came through the door, he stopped

in his tracks. Scowling, he flipped his unruly blond hair and
kicked the door shut behind him. His glare shifted from Liam
to Casey to Jack, then to me.

Stabbing a finger in my direction, he looked at Liam.

"What the fuck is he doing here?"

Liam took a deep breath, folding his arms across his

chest. "He’s staying. And you’re leaving."

Travis snorted. "Bullshit." He looked at me and

gestured towards the door. "Get out."

"He’s not going anywhere," Liam said with a tremor in

his voice that could have just as easily been from fear or
fury. "Travis, get your shit, and get out."

Travis looked at him. "I’m not leaving."
The bouncers tensed. Liam gestured for them to stay

where they were. They both shifted impatiently, but didn’t
get up.

"Get your shit," Liam said again. He spoke slowly, his

tone unsettlingly calm. "And get out of my house."

223

Travis’s shoulders dropped and he cocked his head.

When he spoke, his voice was gentle. Condescendingly so.
"Liam, come on, let’s talk about this, without—"

"No." Liam’s eyes narrowed. "There’s nothing to

discuss."

"There’s plenty to discuss," Travis said. "Come on,

let’s talk in private. Without them." He shot me a glare, then
looked back at Liam. Extending his hand, he stepped towards
Liam. The bouncers and I were instantly on our feet, but
Liam didn’t move.

"Stay away from me, Travis," he said, his voice

shaking.  Though  he  kept  his  calm  exterior,  it  was  faltering.
"You  even  think  of  touching  me,  they’ll  put  you  on  the
ground." He nodded towards Casey and Jack.

Travis gave a sharp sniff of laughter and took another

step forward. Liam stood his ground, putting a hand up to
keep the bouncers at bay, but he shrank back just slightly.

"Liam, baby, can’t we talk—"
"Don’t fucking call me that," Liam snarled. "I’m not

going to tell you again. Get your shit and get the fuck out of
my house. Now."

"You’re making this into something it’s not." Travis’s

voice was so condescending it was almost sing-songy.
"Honestly, do we really need to hash this out in front of other
people? Do you see me bringing the cavalry in—"

"The only thing I’m making this is over." Liam squared

his shoulders. "I’m not interested in hearing anything out of
you except ‘I’m leaving’." His gaze flicked towards me and I
gave him a reassuring nod.

Travis looked over his shoulder at me and I was

silently thankful that looks couldn’t kill. With a cough of
sarcastic laughter, he turned back to Liam. "What the hell
does he have that I don’t?"

"Me," Liam snapped.
Travis balked, the muscles in the side of his face

rippling as he clenched his jaw. "Oh really? He has you?" He
turned and faced me with murder in his eyes. "You know, I
don’t like people stepping in and taking what’s mine."

Liam visibly tensed. "I’m not yours, Travis. I haven’t

been for a long time. Leave him out of this."

"No, I’m not leaving him out of his," Travis said over

224

his shoulder. He stepped towards me, obviously trying to get
me to back down, but I planted my feet. "You’re on thin ice,
Jon," he said, making my blood run cold. "I don’t tolerate
people taking what’s mine."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Liam nod towards

Casey, who pulled a cell phone out. Then Liam said, "Leave
him alone, Travis."

Travis gestured for him to shut up. "What kind of man

comes along and takes someone else’s man, anyway?" he
growled at me.

I ground my teeth, mostly trying to keep them from

chattering. I wasn’t about to let him see how much he
intimidated me. "The kind of man who prefers to take a lover
instead of a hostage," I said.

His eyebrows jumped and his lips thinned.
"Travis, leave him out of this," Liam said, his voice low

but unsteady. Facing his ex down, he’d looked and sounded
almost fearless. But now that I was in Travis’s sights, Liam’s
solid exterior cracked. He touched Travis’s arm and pleaded,
"Back off of him. Please. This is between you and me."

That seemed to give Travis pause. After a moment, he

nodded. "You’re right." His voice was suddenly calm. His
shoulders sagged and he started to turn back towards Liam.
"This is between you and me."

Liam and I both released the very beginnings of

relieved breaths, and in that split second, I let my guard
down.

"Which means he has no business here," Travis

snarled as he spun back towards me. Before I could react, he
seized  the  front  of  my  shirt  with  one  hand  and  a  heartbeat
later,  the  other  fist  came  out  of  nowhere  and  slammed  into
the  side  of  my  face.  My  vision  went  white,  then  red,  and  I
was vaguely aware of my center of gravity shifting before my
face hit something solid and sharp. I put an arm up to deflect
the  next  blow,  but  Travis  was  abruptly  off  me.  Something
crashed,  someone  grunted,  then  everything  went  eerily
silent. Thank God for bouncers.

Blinking my eyes into focus, I looked up. Travis was

pinned  against  the  wall,  eyes  wide  with  surprise.  That  was
when  I  realized  that  the  bouncers  hadn’t  attacked  him.  Just
like me, they both stared in stunned silence.

225

Liam’s forearm was across Travis’s throat, his other

hand pinning his wrist against the wall.

The room was completely silent except for Travis’s

labored breathing.

"Jon, are you okay?" Liam asked, never taking his

eyes off his ex.

I sat up slowly. "I’m fine." My head throbbed and my

mouth was metallic with the taste of blood, but all things
considered, I was okay.

To Travis, Liam growled, "It’s over. I’m done with your

bullshit, I’m done being under your thumb. I want you out of
my house and out of my life."

Travis’s eyes widened with panic as Liam pressed his

arm harder against his throat. In a tone so venomous it gave
me chills, Liam snarled, "And so help me God, if you ever
even think of laying a hand on him again, I will break your
fucking neck." He paused, then added, "Am I clear?"

Travis said nothing, staring at him in stunned silence.
Liam leaned into him. "Am I clear?"
With a great deal of effort, Travis nodded.
Liam released him and shoved himself away, as if

Travis’s very presence repulsed him. Travis stumbled
forward, coughing and holding his neck.

Casey grabbed him by the arm and sat him down on

the couch. "Jack, stay by the door so this asshole doesn’t
leave."

Jack nodded and went to the door.
"What? So now I can’t leave?" Travis sputtered. "Now

who’s holding who hostage?"

"It’s just until the cops get here," Liam snapped. He

looked at Casey. "Did they say how long?"

"Any minute," Casey said. Travis tried to stand, but

Casey put a hand on his shoulder and sat him right back
down. "Sit." Travis eyed him and—probably realizing Casey
was about twice his size—didn’t argue.

Liam knelt beside me, putting his hand on my

shoulder. "Are you sure you’re okay?"

I nodded. "I’m fine." I started to stand, but the room

shifted violently and I grabbed Liam’s arm for balance.

"Whoa, easy." He guided me into a chair.

226

The room spun and I leaned forward, resting my

elbows on my knees and letting my forehead fall into my
hands. He rubbed the back of my neck gently.

"Maybe we should take you to the emergency room,"

he said.

I shook my head, groaning as that simple motion

created explosions of pain behind my eyes. "I’m fine."

"It’s probably a good idea," one of the bouncers said. I

couldn’t tell who it was, nor which direction the voice came
from. May as well have been all directions with as badly as
my head spun.

"He’s right, Jon," Liam said, still rubbing my neck. "In

case it’s serious, and so it can be documented."

The last place I wanted to go was the damned

hospital, but I wasn’t about to argue. As I tongued the cut on
the inside of my cheek, I nodded silently.

Something warm on my hand caught my attention.

Slowly, blinking as the light stabbed the inside of my skull, I
raised my head and realized there was blood on my hand. A
lot of blood on my hand.

"That looks like it might need stitches," Casey said as I

gingerly touched my cheekbone.

Liam furrowed his brow and looked at my face. "Fuck,

that’s definitely going to need stitches." He grimaced, then
shot his ex a murderous glare. He opened his mouth to
speak, but activity outside the door turned everyone’s heads.
I turned too fast and groaned as pain shot through my head.

A moment later, the room was alive with activity. The

police  separated  all  of  us  to  take  statements  while  they
fussed  over  my  face  and  discussed  whether  they  would
arrest  Travis,  Liam,  or  both.  They  were  concerned  enough
about  me  that  one  of  the  officers  insisted  on  driving  me  to
the hospital sooner than later.

"I’ll take your statement while we’re there," he said.

"Let’s go."

Though I was unsteady on my feet, I managed to hold

myself  up  on  the  way  out.  I’d  had  concussions  before,  so  I
wasn’t  concerned.  The  cut  on  my  face  was  bleeding
profusely,  but  it  wasn’t  going  to  kill  me.  Stain  my  shirt,
maybe, but it wasn’t that bad.

228

Forty Two

The fluorescent lights of the emergency room didn’t

help  my  throbbing  head,  but  I  managed  to  give  a  coherent
statement,  echoing  everything  I’d  already  told  the  officer
three  or  four  times  since  we’d  left  the  apartment.  Squinting
through  the  pain,  I  read  the  statement  one  last  time,  then
signed the bottom and handed it to him.

"So what happens now?" I asked as he looked it over.

"They’ll be arraigned—"

"They?" I said, eyes widening.

He shrugged. "He, they. One or both of them is going

in tonight."

I swallowed hard. "Liam didn’t attack—"

"Yes, I know." The officer nodded. "I’ve heard your

side of it. It’s not my decision to make. But even if he’s
arrested, it doesn’t necessarily mean he’ll go down for it." He
gestured at my statement. "If the other witnesses agree with
what you said, it sounds like he was acting in your defense
and did nothing more than restrain your attacker."

"But he might be arrested anyway?"

"It’s possible," he said. "Sometimes we’ll arrest

everyone involved in a physical altercation and then sort it
out at the precinct. That’s up to the other officers. I’m
running ambulance duty tonight, apparently."

I laughed. "Thanks for the ride, by the way."

"Don’t mention it." He stood. "You need a ride back?"

I shook my head slowly. "They haven’t discharged me

yet anyway, and I’ve got people I can call."

"All right then." He shook my hand. "Hope the rest of

your night is less eventful."

229

"Tell me about it."

With that, he was gone, leaving me alone in the cold,

sterile room. Lying back on the hard bed, I rubbed my eyes
as a knot coiled in my gut. I had no doubt that Casey, Jack,
and  Liam  would  tell  the  same  story,  but  whether  or  not  the
cops  arrested  Liam  was  at  their  discretion.  I  wanted  to  call
Liam  and  see  what  was  going  on,  but  my  cell  phone  had  to
be turned off in the emergency room.

There was nothing I could do at this point besides wait

to be discharged.

I let out a long breath and kept a hand over my eyes

to shield them from the light. Well, this evening didn’t go the
way I planned it.

Someone knocked, but I didn’t say anything. Raising

my voice hurt like hell, and all the doctors and nurses just
came in after they knocked anyway.

The door opened. Paper rustled and footsteps clicked.

"Mr. Beatty?" I recognized the doc’s voice from earlier.

"Listening."

"The CT scan looked fine, so it’s just a mild

concussion," he said. "How is the pain on a scale of one to
ten?"

"Five."

He grunted with, I assumed, approval. "I would

suggest taking it easy for a day or two."

"I’ve had them before," I said. "I know the drill."

Another grunt. "Well, I’ll just have another look at that

cut, then we’ll discharge you and let you be on your way."

I moved my hand away from my face and blinked,

flinching at the bright light.

"How does it feel?" He asked, eyeing the cut.

"Still numb."

He nodded. "Good. The stitches can come out in a few

days. It shouldn’t scar too badly, but if it does, a plastic
surgeon can take care of it."

"I’m sure I’ll be fine."

"How is your balance?"

I sat up slowly, groaning as the room shifted.

He scowled. "Can you stand?" He put his hand on my

arm, steadying me as I swung my legs over the side of the
bed and stood. I gripped the bed until I found my

230

equilibrium, then everything settled.

"I think I’ll be okay."

"You may want to have someone stay with you for the

next  twenty-four  hours,"  he  said.  "And  I  wouldn’t
recommend  driving  for  at  least  as  long."  He  turned  his
attention  to  my  chart  as  I  sat  back  on  the  bed.  "The
admissions desk can give you the number for a taxi service if
you need it."

"Thanks," I said dryly.

"Otherwise, everything looks fine, so I’ll be back in a

moment with your discharge paperwork, and you can be on
your way."

After he left, I was tempted to lie back, but the

thought of getting up again didn’t sound appealing.
Drumming my fingers on the side of the bed, I waited.

Not two minutes later, there was another knock. I

turned my head slowly as the door opened. One of the
nurses leaned in through the doorway. "Mr. Beatty? There’s
someone here to see you. A—" She paused, glancing out the
door, then back at me. "Liam Sable. Do you want me to send
him in?"

My heart jumped. "Yes, please."

She nodded and stepped out. A second later, Liam

appeared in the doorway.

"Jon," he said, his voice heavy with relief. He came

across the room and put his arms around me, kissing me
lightly.

"Jesus, I was afraid they were going to arrest you," I

said, returning his embrace.

"So was I." He pulled back and looked at the side of

my face. "How bad is it?"

"Minor concussion. Trust me, I’ve had worse." I gave

him a reassuring smile.

"I’m glad you’re okay." He touched the uninjured side

of my face.

"So, what happens now?" I asked, putting my hand

over his.

He let out a breath. "I’m not sure. They told me the

D.A. is probably going to push to hold him without bail, but I
doubt anyone would bail his sorry ass out anyway." He
laughed bitterly. "I was always the one who paid his bail

231

before."

"Any idea how long he’ll be in?"

He shrugged. "If they nail him for felony assault and

battery, a year at best. But, to be honest…" He trailed off.

Swallowing nervously, I squeezed his hand. "What?"

"You should have seen the look on his face when they

hauled him out." He laughed, shaking his head. "I think I
scared the hell out of him."

"Wouldn’t surprise me," I said. "I think you scared the

hell out of Jack and Casey."

He chuckled, then his smile fell as he wetted his lips.

"Honestly, that’s the first time I’ve ever stood up to him.
Physically, anyway. He always thought I was afraid of him."

"Were you?"

"Hell yeah," he said without hesitation. "But now? I

think he might be afraid of me. He practically started shaking
when I came back into the room after the cops questioned
me."

"I don’t blame him," I said. "I thought you were going

to snap his neck."

The pad of his thumb brushed over my cheekbone and

his  expression  turned  serious.  "It  never  even  crossed  my
mind," he said. "All I wanted to do was get him off of you."
He  avoided  my  eyes.  "Shit,  Jon,  when  I  saw  him  go  for
you…" He trailed off, shaking his head again.

"Liam." I put a hand on his waist. "It’s over."

"I know, but—"

"I’m fine, you’re fine, and he’s in jail." I pulled him

closer and whispered, "It’s over."

He started to protest, but stopped. He took a deep

breath, released it, then looked at me  and smiled. When he
did, my head spun, but it wasn’t the concussion this time. It
was  the  first  genuine,  heartfelt  smile  I’d  seen  on  his  face
since we left Wilde’s that night.

He kissed me lightly. "You’re right," he whispered.

"It’s over." He paused. "I hope, anyway."

I put my hand on his face and kissed him again.

"Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. He’s in jail tonight and with any
luck he’s going to stay there. With a little more luck, he’s
gotten the message."

"He’s persistent," Liam said.

232

"Then we’ll be careful," I said. "We’ll be vigilant."

He sighed. "I hate the thought of looking over our

shoulders forever."

"We’ll do what we have to do."

"I guess that’s all we can do." His fingers laced

between mine. "I’m glad you came back tonight."

"I’m glad you came after me," I said, laughing softly.

He smiled. "I almost didn’t. I didn’t think you’d want

to talk to me but…" He trailed off.

I squeezed his hand. "But?"

Looking me in the eye, he said, "Being turned away

was well worth that off chance that you’d listen to me." He
exhaled, glancing at the cut on my face. "I honestly had no
idea this would happen, though."

Shrugging, I said, "It did, and we can’t change it. But,

we’re both here." I squeezed his hand again. "And I’m not
going anywhere."

He smiled again. Then it turned into a devilish grin as

he glanced around the room. "Well, I’m not staying here,
but—"

"You know what I mean," I laughed and put my arm

around his waist, pulling him closer. "The doctor said I
should have someone with me for the next twenty-four hours
or so. You know, because of the concussion."

He rested his forearms on my shoulders and bent to

kiss me lightly. "I hope you don’t think you’ll be getting rid of
me once that twenty-four hours is up."

"Not a chance," I said, kissing him again. "In fact, I

was hoping you’d stay."

"For how long?"

"How long do you want to stay?"

Whispering against my lips, he said, "As long as you’ll

have me."

233

About L. A.

L. A. Witt is an erotica author currently living in Okinawa,

Japan, with her husband and two cats. She also writes

heterosexual erotica under the name Lauren Gallagher.

Visit our website for our growing catalogue of quality books.