by May Archer
Cam shook off thoughts of Cain Shaw and gave Cort a winning smile. “Okay, forget that shit. Moving on. Never have I ever had sex in a public place.”
Cam sized Cort up, watching him reach for his glass, waiting to see if he would drink, but he didn’t lift his hand off the bar. They both burst out laughing.
“You’re lying! I’ve only known you for a couple of hours and I can already tell you’ve got to be lying,” Cam said, shaking his head sadly at the glint in Cort’s eyes.
“No!” he said, nodding his head.
“Oh my God!” Cam said, pointing at him. “You just did the thing where you nodded and said no! Total indicator you’re lying!”
“What?” Cort’s expression was startled and maybe a little embarrassed. “I did not!”
“Did too,” Cam teased. God, he liked this guy way too much already. He cast around for a safer topic to return to. “So, uh, public sex?”
“I haven’t, really! I mean, unless… Wait, how are we defining sex?” Cort demanded. His green eyes danced and his mouth twisted up in a lopsided smile, which made Cam’s cock twitch. “And for that matter, how are we defining public?”
Cam raised a brow. “Public, like if someone could catch you. Sex, as in anything beyond petting.”
“Petting,” Cort echoed, giggling. “Who the fuck says petting?”
“Me, clearly,” Cam defended himself. “And I mean, isn’t that what you do with girls? You, like, pet them?”
Cort dissolved into laughter and slumped on the bar, clutching his stomach. “Oh, holy shit. Oh, God.”
Cam felt his face flame. “Dude, like I’d have the first clue what to do with a girl…woman… whatever.”
Cort laughed softly. “Not even the first clue, huh?”
“Well, I took AP Biology, but ah, no. No practical knowledge,” Cam confirmed. He put his hand over his mouth. “I cannot believe I just said that.”
Not that Cam had a problem outing himself - he’d never really been in the closet, not from the first time his nanny had shown him an ancient episode of The Brady Bunch and he’d realized Peter did it for him way more than Marsha. Still, he wondered about the man in front of him, and the alcohol made him bolder than he otherwise would have been.
He licked his lips. “You do, though, right?” he asked Cort, who was still chuckling. Cam felt his face flush red. “I mean, beyond Cindy and Becky?”
Cort frowned, apparently trying to follow this inarticulate question, then he smiled again, and Cam forgot to be uncomfortable because the way Cort’s mouth hitched up at one corner made Cam’s stomach swoop.
“Beth. Claire and Beth. You have the cutest freckles,” Cort said softly, then he blinked as if he hadn’t meant to say that. He cleared his throat. “But yeah. I mean, yeah, I like women.”
Cam nodded and looked down at his whiskey. Well, of course. Hadn’t Cam seen Cort’s fascination with Misty Sturmacher earlier in the evening, when he’d first walked into the ballroom? It was alright. It was fine. They were just two new friends having a drink at a party, and it was absolutely not disappointment making it hard for him to breathe.
Cort put his hand over Cam’s where it rested against the bar, and leaned toward him slightly. “I am also attracted to men.”
Cam’s head shot up and he sucked in a breath, but Cort’s eyes were focused behind Cam’s head. “Speaking of which, the man you were talking to earlier is watching us right now.”
Cam shifted in his seat, but Cort’s hand trapped his. “Don’t turn to look,” he said softly, his breath hot on Cam’s ear. “Unless you want him to come over here. He’s staring at you like he wants to know what color your boxer briefs are.”
A bolt of acute lust shot straight to Cam’s groin - a one-two punch of Cort’s warm hand on his, and the words he spoke. He loved the way Cort touched him, and had seemed to find excuses to touch him all night. “How do you know I wear boxer briefs?” Cam whispered.
Cam wondered if he imagined the hitch in Cort’s breathing.
But before Cort could speak - and Cam was dying to know what he would have said at that juncture - a hand fell on Cam’s shoulder.
“Cammy.”
Drew’s voice held long-suffering disapproval, like Cam was a dog who simply refused to heel. Cort’s eyes met Cam’s, and he raised an eyebrow which spoke volumes. It reminded him of the wordless communication his parents had sometimes shared. Who is this guy? Why is he claiming you? What are we going to do about it? But he didn’t pull back from Cam’s space. He looked ready to fight.
Cam very nearly laughed, and shifted himself closer to Cort.
“My name is Cam. Or Camden. Now go away, Drew,” he said without turning around.
Drew sucked in a pissed off breath. “We need to talk.”
“Again? We talked earlier, and I heard enough. If and when I want to talk to you again, I’ll call you.”
Cort smelled delicious - like a weird combination of pine and oranges. Trees and citrus had never made Cam hard before, but somehow right now, they were everything. He leaned into Cort and inhaled deeply, and watched in fascination as Cort bit his lip and shifted in his seat.
Oh, fuck yes. This was happening.
“Cam!” Drew pulled at Cam’s shoulder and tried to spin him around on his stool, but at the same moment, Cort splayed his hand on Cam’s waist beneath his open jacket, keeping him locked in place. Cort’s entire body tensed, and his head went back just slightly so he could meet Cam’s eyes again. Am I beating this asshole up? How do you want me to play this? The questions were as clear as if they’d been spoken out loud.
Though he’d never aspired to be the prize in a tug of war, Cam loved the feeling of Cort’s broad palm against his flank, the heat of him seeping through Cam’s thin shirt. Though Cam knew Drew was nothing more than an annoyance, he liked that Cort seemed ready to step up if Cam wanted him to. But what he fucking loved was that the guy hadn’t moved his ass from his seat without checking whether Cam did want him to. Almost like he expected Cam could handle himself. Almost like he trusted Cam’s judgment.
Imagine that.
Cam smiled wide, euphoric in a way that had fuck-all to do with his whiskey.
Cort looked confused - and no wonder, because Drew’s hand was still on Cam’s shoulder, pulling like a freaking tractor beam - but his lips tipped up too, like he couldn’t help it.
Cam shook his head and, still smiling, turned to face Drew. “What. Do. You. Want?”
Drew’s nostrils flared and he darted a glance at Cort before looking back at Cam. He looked tired and pissed because Cam wasn’t falling in line with his plans. The fragile peace they’d achieved an hour ago was definitely over. “I want to discuss that stunt you pulled with Lydia.”
Cam calmly sipped his Jameson. His eyes were on Drew, but he was one hundred percent aware of the warm body at his back, supporting him. “There is nothing to discuss. You completely overstepped by accepting Lydia’s invitation when you knew I wouldn’t fly to St. Brigitte. I corrected your error.”
He tried to turn away, but Drew stopped him and rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry I made plans for us without consulting you, Cammy,” he drawled, making it sound like their argument had been a lover’s spat. “But get over it and talk about it like a grown-up! It’s not about you and me, it’s about what’s best for Seaver Tech, and you’re the president.”
Cam jerked his shoulder out of Drew’s grip and glared. “Don’t fucking tell me how to do my job or how to be a Seaver. I’m not a child, and I have a perfectly valid reason for not wanting to go.”
Behind him, Cort tensed, likely bracing himself for a fight, and from the corner of his eye, he saw Cort’s knuckles whiten on his glass.
Drew frowned, and then as he looked at Cam, the light seemed to dawn. He closed his eyes tightly for half a second in realization. “What, still?”
“Yes, still,” Cam said, hating Drew for always making him feel so fucking weak.
“But what about, you know,
your doctor? Doesn’t she help?” He gave Cort a cautious glance, like he didn’t want to give too much away.
Cam snorted. Because now Drew cared about embarrassing him? Yeah, right. “You mean my therapist. And what about her? She says not to allow anyone to push me past my comfort level, or to take risks unless I can completely trust myself and the people around me.”
Drew ground his teeth together then glanced away. His eyes landed on Cort again. “And who are you?” he demanded.
Cam could still sense Cort’s tension from behind him. Cort’s chest was pressed against his back, and he could feel Cort’s indrawn breath down to his toes.
Cort didn’t say a word, allowing Cam to decide if and how to answer. But Cam had nothing to hide. “This is my friend Cort.”
“Cort,” he drawled. “And how do you know Cam, Cort?”
Cam felt Cort shrug, then his hands fitted to the sides of Cam’s torso. “We have lots of interests in common.”
“Like what?” Drew demanded.
Like we both like Jameson and we both like to fuck men. It was on the tip of Cam’s tongue, but he refrained from commenting. He deserved a medal.
“Like none of your business, and Cam asked you to please move along,” Cort said.
Drew hesitated, glaring back and forth between them, but Cam had endured enough.
“Move along, Drew. For God’s sake, for my sake, for the sake of our friendship… hell, for the sake of karma and peace on earth and whatever the fuck you want, please, just go.”
Drew ground his teeth together. “We will be discussing this tomorrow.”
Cam rolled his eyes and made a mental note to shut his ringer off. Tomorrow was Saturday, anyway. They watched as Drew stalked off towards the exit, and then Cam turned to face Cort.
Cort’s gaze was still on Drew, and Cam was once again reminded of a predator. But unlike the way he looked at Cam, Cort’s eyes now were cold and calculating. A predator on the hunt with no trace of playfulness in his gaze. Cort glanced down at Cam and smiled. “Do you know CPR?”
“Pardon?”
“CPR. Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Could you save my life if I suddenly dropped dead?”
Cam shook his head. “Uh. Sort of? I was a lifeguard back in college. Is that, uh, likely to happen?”
Cort grinned and looked over towards the elevators again. “Only if looks can kill.”
Cam groaned at the joke, but the happy bubble which seemed to surround him, surround them, was safely back in place.
“Wanna tell me who that jerk was?” Cort asked easily, relaxing deeper into his stool as the elevator dinged. “The introduction only went one-way.”
Cam got the idea that if he said no, if he said he didn’t want to talk about it at all, maybe Cort wouldn’t press him for answers. But he also didn’t want to start anything with Cort tonight - oh, please God, let them be starting something tonight! - without explaining exactly who Drew was and was not.
“Sorry. That was Drew McMann. Ex-boyfriend. And current head of the legal department at Seaver Tech. He’s also my older brother’s best friend, and was mine too, for a while. His dad is my godfather. My mom was his sister’s godmother.”
Cort winced. “Ouch.”
The guy didn’t know the half of it. Hardly anybody knew anything beyond the stupid tabloid stories, because Cam sure as hell didn’t talk about it, not to the media and not even to his friends. But for the first time maybe ever, Cam kinda did want to talk about it. Maybe it was the whole strangers-on-a-bus thing, the freedom that comes from not knowing anything about a person, not even their last name. Or maybe it was the way Cort looked at him, like Cam’s name didn’t impress him at all. He wanted Cort - hell, he’d been half-hard for the guy since the moment he’d spied him across the room earlier. But he found he wanted Cort to know about him, too. He liked that Cort listened.
Cam drank the last few drops in his glass and met Cort’s eyes. “Another?”
Cort blinked for a second and hesitated. “Think it’s a good idea?”
Cam shrugged. “Define good.” Cort raised an eyebrow, but Cam propped his elbow on the bar, and set his chin in his palm, returning his skeptical look with a smile. “Seriously! I mean, if you mean good as in wise, then maybe it’s not a good idea. But if you mean good as in what would be most fun, then it definitely is a good idea. And if you mean what’s the easiest and rightest thing…”
“The rightest thing?” Cort snickered, leaning into Cam’s space.
“It’s a word, Kendrick,” Cam said primly. “The rightest thing, like what your instincts tell you is the right thing to do. And that would definitely be to have another drink. With me. Now. Don’t you think?”
Cam held his breath, watching Cort’s reaction. Then Cort nodded slowly, and that funny euphoria hit Cam again.
He gestured to the woman behind the bar, who hurried over to refill their glasses.
Cam took a slow sip of the liquid, figuring out where to begin. Sharing had never come easily to him, partly because of who his family was and partly because of his own nature. It didn’t help that he could still hear Drew’s voice shouting warnings in his head. What if he’s a tabloid reporter looking to sell your story? What if he’s a business competitor looking to steal company information? Don’t share too much, or you’ll look weak.
He looked at Cort, at the way the man’s broad shoulders were aligned perpendicular to his own, so fucking warm and solid; at the tiny white scar on the upper corner of his lip; at the scruff on his jaw; at the intensely curious look in his eyes, like Cam was a puzzle he was piecing together and he wanted to get it right. What had started as simple physical attraction to this man had morphed into something more. He felt strong and totally in charge, even though Cort was so much bigger and more assertive than him. He loved the way Cort laughed at his jokes, like his laugh was rusty and he was surprised to hear the sound coming from his own chest. It all combined to make his attraction ratchet higher and higher.
So, without formulating an agenda or carefully determining how much he wanted to say, Cam started to speak.
“You probably know my parents were killed in a plane crash a year or so ago.”
Cort nodded once. He didn’t interrupt to offer platitudes, which made Cam like him all the more, but his green eyes took on a vulnerable cast for a second which made Cam wonder whether he’d lost someone he loved, too.
Cam cleared his throat. “Drew’s sister Amy, who was also my brother’s fiancée, was killed too.” Cort’s head went back in surprise and Cam nodded. “Yeah, most people didn’t know they were engaged. It was a new thing. Happened only a couple of days before the, ah, crash. All of us - me, my parents, and Sebastian, plus Amy, Drew, and their parents, the McManns - were supposed to go and celebrate with Emmett Shaw’s family.”
“Wait, wait. The Mr. Shaw you were talking about before, the one who was best friends with your dad, is Emmett Shaw? The senator?” Cort interrupted.
Cam nodded. “Yep. Yeah, he was in business with my dad a while back. They founded Seaver Tech together, along with Jonathan McMann, Drew’s dad. Dad had bought Uncle Shaw out of the business a while before the crash - I’m guessing maybe so he could use the money to move out of state and fund his whole political thing? But they stayed really close friends.”
Cort nodded, but there was an appraising look on his face which Cam understood without explanation.
“Yeah. I know what you’re gonna say. He’s not quite as violently conservative in real life as he is on the campaign trail,” Cam said quietly, his finger tracing the rim of his glass. “
“Huh,” Cort said, tilting the liquid back and forth in his own glass. “I don’t know whether it makes it better or worse that Senator Shaw says all that shit on TV when he doesn’t really believe it.”
Cam nodded. He wondered whether his parents would have kept ties with the Shaws if they’d lived. He very much doubted it. Emmett Shaw was a different man these days, and even though Cam still called him
“Uncle,” he found it hard to talk to the man for more than a few minutes at a time.
“Anyway, he has this cabin in the mountains of Tennessee. I mean, it’s a cabin like Versailles was a summer house, you know?” He rolled his eyes and Cort snorted. “Huge contemporary monstrosity with lots of steel and glass, but it’s got a kick-ass hot tub.”
Cam liked the way Cort looked at him sideways and smiled at that, as if maybe Cort was picturing him in the hot tub. He felt himself flush and wondered for a second if he should be embarrassed, but he wasn’t.
“And then?” Cort prompted.
Cam took a deep breath and got to the part of the story that had his arousal fleeing. “We were all supposed to fly out together in the evening on my parents’ plane, but at the last minute, Emmett got tickets for some benefit show that night. Libraries for under-served communities in Tennessee.” He chuckled without humor. “Everybody knew Charlotte Seaver was all about benefits for every-damn-thing, so you know obviously she had to be there.” He swallowed.
Cort leaned into him, and Cam sucked in a breath. It was a matter of a couple of inches, but seemed to speak volumes. Control yourself, Seaver.
“It’s alright to cry, you know,” Cort said offhandedly.
Cam stared at him. “I don’t cry.”
Cort’s eyebrows shot up.
“Anyway,” Cam continued. “Emmett made arrangements for them to fly down earlier. Amy tagged along to do some shopping, and the rest of us were flying later. They crashed into the mountain. There were no survivors. Everyone already knows that part. An American Tragedy they called it on the news.” Cam cleared his throat, but it didn’t get rid of the lump there. “I should have been on that plane.”
“If you’d gone, you’d have died too.”
Cort’s words hit him like a slap and he looked up. The man’s eyes were hard, burning.
“Whatever happened that day, you couldn’t have prevented it. Maybe nobody could have prevented it. But if you were on that plane, you would have died too.”
