by Saxon James
But then I think of Taryn, and how good it would feel to speed up my plan and be done with this place. To be able to be with him without all the other shit hanging over our heads.
“Thirty thousand,” I confirm, feeling like I’m going to throw up. “I’ll make it happen.”
***
By the time I leave work that night, I’m only slightly less stressed. It’s late. Way late. And for the first time, I’m glad I didn’t tell Taryn to come. My phone has rung hot all day because as soon as you take a bet as big as the one I did, everyone wants to know why. The odds on the Hawks have crashed, so there’s next to no money to be made on the game now. If people didn’t have their bets in before today, they’re out. It also means there won’t be any last-minute calls to help even out my lines.
The look Gary gave me on the way out the door was not one I ever want to see directed at me again.
I have to keep praying the Hawks win.
If they do, Gary will be kissing my feet.
Rainer is already at the sports bar where we agreed to meet, holed up in a corner booth. Normally he’d be sitting at the bar, flirting with the bartender, and it’s a bit of a relief to see this new side of him.
“So you are still alive,” he says as soon as I sit down opposite him.
“For now,” I moan.
Rainer lifts an eyebrow and I fill him in on my whole story.
“I don’t know,” I finish. “It’s a mess. I shouldn’t have taken the bet, but when I thought about turning him away, I couldn’t do it.”
“If you wanted ten grand, you could have just asked for it.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t want your money. Believe it or not, I like making my own.”
“And if you end up bankrupting yourself instead?”
I swallow. “Yeah. That’ll suck.”
“Mmhmm. So tell me, how did it go with that guy you were thinking of seeing? Hottie from your phone, I’m guessing.”
I laugh a little. How could I forget that conversation? “We’ve been hooking up.”
He wrinkles his cute nose. “Like… regularly?”
“Yes.” I stifle my laugh. “Casual, but exclusive.”
Rainer chokes on his drink. “For fuck’s sake, why?”
Because in order to sleep with Taryn, I’d agree to anything. “Don’t have him out of my system yet.”
“Riiight.” Rainer looks suspicious as hell. “At least that explains why our regular nights out have disappeared.”
“Yeah, sorry.” I bite my lip as I debate finishing this beer and buying another.
“There’s more. What is it?”
“I’m going away with him for a few days.”
Rainer’s head jerks back. “Not so casual then. Do you actually like this guy?”
If Taryn had been the one asking, my immediate reaction would have been to make a joke and change the subject. “It’s possible. But nothing can happen.”
“Because he’s closeted?”
“Among other things.”
“Oh, holy crap on a cracker, Elliot.” Rainer runs a hand over his face. “What the hell are you thinking?”
“That he’s possibly the hottest guy I’ve ever met?” I grin, making Rainer laugh.
“You’re fucked. As long as you know that.”
“Don’t worry, I’m well aware.” I shake my head. “The problem is, I keep overthinking this trip. If I go, I’m pretty much telling him that maybe I want more.”
“More? Aren’t you putting out already?”
“You know what I mean. All those relationship next steps. And I don’t even know if he’s completely over his ex, let alone thinking about that kind of thing.”
“Let me guess, you’re too scared to ask.”
“Yes. And with this big bet, I’m not going to be able to concentrate tomorrow. We’re both supposed to be switching off, but there’s literally no way I’ll be able to now. I feel sick.”
“You’re overthinking it. Go away, watch the game because you want to watch the game. Fuck a hot guy. Repeatedly. Relax a little and then come home. If he’s still hung up on that ex, lock your feelings up tight. You’ve never failed to do that before.”
I haven’t. But immediately I’m hit with an image of Taryn doing his morning push-ups while I watch him from over the edge of the bed—the way his back and arm muscles strain, the way he looks up when he realizes I’m watching, the smile that stretches over his face, only for a second, before he keeps going.
“I know. But maybe this time I don’t want to,” I mumble.
“Elliot…”
I look up to find Rainer staring at me, mouth parted. He doesn’t say anything at first. “What?”
“It’s… maybe you should give it a try? For real.”
“Give what a try?” I’ve got this weird feeling I know what he’s talking about, but he’s going to have to confirm it because Rainer suggesting anyone try a relationship is like spotting a freaking unicorn.
“You know… the boyfriend thing.”
Both of my eyebrows hit my hairline. “Even though he’s closeted?”
“Yes.”
“Wow. This Ibiza guy has really done a number on you.”
Rainer smiles sadly and mockingly shakes his head. “Fucking men.”
I lift my glass. “To fucking men.”
He clearly doesn’t want to talk about the Ibiza guy, so after we toast, I steer the conversation away. Away from his pain, and my emotions, and the shitload of money I have on the line.
Then, we do the adult thing.
We drink ourselves stupid.
Chapter Twenty-One
Even though Elliot is a rough shade of green when I pick him up, I’ve never been happier to see him. I drive almost the whole six hours to Chatham, only stopping once to refuel and grab Elliot an energy drink. He mumbles some kind of thanks before we’re back on the road, windows down, music up, broken only by Elliot’s occasional groans from the passenger seat.
“You doing okay?” I ask with a chuckle, checking that he isn’t going to hurl on the interior.
“Why did I drink so much?”
“Because you make terrible life decisions?” It sounds like I’m teasing, but actually, sometimes I wonder if that isn’t the case.
“Well, fuck you very much.”
“Seriously though, why did you drink so much?”
He finally lifts his head from his hands and rolls it across the headrest to face me. “Long answer or short?”
“We have time.”
He goes to open his mouth, then must be hit with a wave of nausea because he quickly says, “Short version.”
“When you’re ready.”
He lets out a self-pitying noise. “I really need the Hawks to win tonight or my boss is going to kill me.”
“Ah… it’s a work thing?” Thank god. Better that than an us thing.
I feel rather than see him cut a quick look at me and away again. “Yeah. Took on my largest bet yet. Problem is, I have barely enough in my holdings to cover it if he wins. It means I’ll clean up this week, but it’ll cost my boss the money I’ve made him this month.”
My mouth presses into a line. “I don’t actually know much about betting, so that doesn’t make a heap of sense to me.”
“Basically, as a bookie, I want to take bets on both teams. As close to even as possible. One side pays out the other, and I take my ten percent off the top. I hold anything left over for a month, and then after four weeks, whatever excess I have, goes back to the company. That’s how my boss runs it anyway. It’s not always like that. And some bookies work solo rather than for someone.”
“Hmm…” I’m not sure how much more I want to know. I want Elliot to keep talking, that much is clear, but when it comes to his job, I’m operating under a less is more philosophy. “So it’s money stress?”
“Yep.”
“Well, I have money.”
&n
bsp; He’s silent for a minute. “You do. Your money. Which has nothing to do with me.” Elliot turns and looks out the window, clearly signaling he’s done talking about it.
Whatever. I turn up the music and put my foot down.
The sooner we get there, the sooner I’ll be able to start distracting him.
***
Sometimes you can’t trust the internet to give you the right info, but when it comes to Chatham, it was spot on. The location is idyllic and the cottage we’ve booked is perfect. It’s slightly back and raised from the beach, nothing but sand dunes and blue water visible through every window. There’s a nice breeze coming in off the ocean, but I know once night hits, I’ll be putting the fireplace and hot tub to good use. Elliot will be lucky if I let him wear clothes between the hours of seven and seven.
I carry our bags in and dump them on the bed. Before Elliot can run off again, I grab his belt loop and tug him back, wrapping my arms around his waist. He’s wearing his glasses and his hair smells like a hint of smoke and beer, but I melt into him anyway.
“You smell like a dumpster fire,” I murmur against the back of his ear.
“Is that your way of calling me trash?”
“It’s my way of telling you to shower.”
“Well, thank fuck you weren’t harsh about it.”
A laugh bubbles up in my chest.
“How about you join me in the shower, and I’ll show you how filthy I am,” he suggests.
So I do. And Elliot is as good as his word. By the time we climb out again my muscles are loose and relaxed, and Elliot’s wet hair is damp and curling around his ears. Combined with his flushed cheeks, he looks exactly like he’s been thoroughly fucked. It suits him.
“Hey, question,” he says, stripping the towel from his hips to rub over his hair. “Are you ever going to give me a go at this?” His hand finds my ass cheek and gives it a solid squeeze.
My eyebrows shoot up. Elliot wants to fuck me? “Umm…” I glance up to meet his eyes in the mirror and notice a second too late how freaked out I look.
His lips curl up on one side. “I’ll take that as a solid no.”
He’s gone from the room before I can say anymore, which is probably good because I don’t know what I want to say. I do want to say something, though. Because while the idea of shoving anything up my ass makes my hole clamp closed tighter than a safe door, I’m also not completely opposed to at least thinking about it.
Sighing, I pull on some underwear and go in search of Elliot. He’s in the kitchen, towel back around his narrow hips as he pulls out a handful of the fruit we brought with us and drops it on a chopping board.
“Sorry,” he says before I get a chance to speak. “I didn’t mean to freak you out. Forget I said anything.”
“Yeah, I’m not going to do that.”
“What, forget? Or let me fuck you?”
This time I manage not to cringe. Elliot starts slicing an orange, and I reach out to snag a piece before replying. “The first one.”
His hand slows. “And the second?”
“I’m not saying yes, but it’s not a no yet either. I’ve never really given it a whole lot of thought. Liam was strictly a bottom. It worked for us.”
“Well, I’m not Liam.” His voice is strained, and I want to kick myself. Maybe I bring him up a bit too much? “Is it something you’ll think about? If you’re not comfortable with it, that’s fine. We’re not exactly having trouble in the bedroom department.”
“Yeah, I’ll definitely give it thought.”
Something about his expression softens. “Thanks. And I mean, it’s not like we need to go straight for it. We can always do a bit of ass play first.”
It’s wild how comfortable Elliot is talking about sex. My cheeks feel like they’re blazing hot, and I’m hoping he doesn’t notice because I love when he talks like this. It’s not driven by arousal, only facts. “I’ve umm… never tried it.”
Elliot scrapes the fruit into a jug, eying me. “Are you telling me you’ve never played with your own ass?”
I shrug. “My dick has always been the priority.”
Elliot starts to laugh and rounds the counter to take my hands. “Taryn, that’s why you have two of these.” He gives one palm a squeeze. “One for your cock.” He lifts the other hand, folding down all but two fingers. “And one for your ass.” Then he sucks them into his mouth.
I watch him hungrily as he hollows out his cheeks then releases my fingers, running his tongue all the way down and back up again. With a quick kiss to my fingertips, he lets go completely and goes back to filling the jug with water.
“I feel like an adventurer,” he finally says.
I tip my head to the side, signaling for him to continue.
“About to explore uncharted terrain.” He winks. “Wait until I rim you. It’s gonna blow your fucking mind.”
My ass clenches again, but this time it’s not entirely because I’m terrified. And the way my cock twitches at the thought of Elliot’s mouth on my ass… hmm, yeah I think I’m definitely on board for that. Him fucking me is going to take more thought, though.
We spend the whole first afternoon sitting on the deck overlooking the ocean, drinking the jug of water. I fish out the random pieces of fruit as we talk and it’s nice to be able to relax. We’re technically in public, doing something any other couple would do. If I wanna take his hand, I do it. If I wanna lean over and kiss him, I do.
That night, Elliot’s clearly distracted by the game, so I offer to turn it on.
“It’s fine. We said no work.”
“It’ll be okay. We’re playing the Hawks in the next few weeks, so I’ll be able to study their form while you watch.”
He thinks it over. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, it’s fine.”
But as soon as I turn on the game, it’s clear Elliot isn’t fine. He’s anxious in the lead up, and even before the game starts, every muscle in his body is pulled tight. I reach for his hand.
“Hey, you doing okay?”
He puffs out a long breath. “Not sure. I feel sick, and it’s not the hangover this time.”
As much as I still don’t want to talk about his job, he clearly needs this. “It is a lot of money. But like you said, you can cover it. Plus, I can’t see the Hawks losing.”
“Neither can I, but it’s the first time someone’s gone big against my recommendation. If he loses, is he going to blame me?”
I’m not sure what to say to make it better, so instead, I pull Elliot to sit in front of me and start working on his shoulders. He sighs lightly and leans into my touch. It’s enough to relax him… until the game starts.
The first thing that tips me off that the game isn’t going to be as straight forward as I thought, is the Cubs QB running out in the starting line-up. The Hawks main inside linebacker is also noticeably absent and without him, well, who knows how the defense will hold up?
Elliot pulls completely out of my hold, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, his hand wrapped so tightly around his phone his knuckles have gone white. Anxiety is radiating off him so palpably I can’t not feel it. The idea of studying the game is long gone; all I can focus on is Elliot—on the way his eyes are glued to the screen and his back is straight and stiff. He’s going to be sore by the time the game finally ends.
And hell, Davidson is on fire tonight. The Cubs controversial draft pick is making all the right plays, controlling the game like he already knows the script. He sets up play after play that plows through the defense and takes easy yardage. The game is close right up until the final quarter. The Cubs pull away scoring touchdown after touchdown and by the time they’re five points ahead, I know it’s all over. Apparently, Elliot does too because he can’t even watch the end.
“Shit!” he explodes, standing up and walking right out of the cottage.
I hesitate, not knowing where to go from here. With Liam, I knew all the right things to d
o, and it’s been so long since I’ve had to think through how to handle a situation rather than act intuitively. It’s both exciting and terrifying.
Slowly, I push up from the couch and move to the doorway. Thankfully, Elliot is sitting in one of the deck chairs and hasn’t taken off, but I’m still unsure how to approach him.
“Are… are you okay?”
His words are muffled but I still catch them. “I don’t know.”
The fact he hasn’t told me to fuck off is encouraging. I edge my way outside and take the seat next to him, trying not to compare now to how different it was out here earlier. “Need to talk about it?”
He lifts his head from where it’s resting in his hands. “I… I don’t even know what I’m feeling right now.”
“Didn’t you say if the Cubs won, you’d lose a whole heap of money?”
“Not me personally…”
I lift an eyebrow and Elliot pushes up from his chair. Moving toward me, he nods at my lap. “Can I?”
“Of course.” I reach for him, tugging him down to straddle me. It’s a tight fit, and I imagine his knees must be digging into the sides of the chair. But if he’s uncomfortable, he doesn’t say anything, just relaxes into me, face planted into my shoulder. “You don’t have to ask,” I say.
“I know.”
“So, if it wasn’t you losing money, why were you so worried?”
He sighs and sits up to face me, hands resting lightly around my neck. “My boss is a cool guy when he’s making money. Which is why I always make him money. I… I’ve never been on his bad side, but I hear it isn’t good.”
I stew over my words for a minute, not sure whether I’m pushing it by asking, but in the end, I can’t hold back. “Why do you stay? I know you have your goal, but the job sounds stressful. And I’m pretty sure it doesn’t make you happy.”
“Money makes me happy.”
“But why?”
His perfect lips pout a little while he thinks. He opens his mouth once, twice, then lets out a huge puff of air that ghosts over my skin. “I have no family. Other than Rainer, I have no one. It sucks, yes, but when you’re in and out of foster homes and homeless shelters it makes it hard to get close to anyone. I actually actively avoided it and instead worked my damn ass off in high school to get a scholarship, then took on two part time jobs to pay for my dorm.”
