by Cara Dee
I swore it would only be tonight, and it was innocent. He was sitting in his bed, scribbling or drawing in a notebook, or so it appeared. Probably working. I didn’t know the creative process of an architect.
Every now and then, he reached for his phone to check it.
It reminded me of what he was going through with his daughter.
There had to be some way I could help him. He’d sure as shit helped me a lot the past several days. He’d watched Bella twice, he’d signed me up for the Italian cooking class without mentioning it to me first—and he’d paid for it—and he texted a lot to see how I was doing.
Getting to know Ev while he was in the middle of a personal rebirth could be fucking hell. He was slowly finding his way, relaxing more, and…
“Shit. That’s it.” I left my bedroom and ran down the hall. I’d left my phone in the kitchen. Once I was there, I sent him a message.
You told me you and Grace used to be very close. Who were you back then? Maybe she misses that guy.
Five
Everett
Today could fuck off.
My chest felt tight after I got off the phone with Melinda, and I could tell she enjoyed it.
Staring unseeingly at my computer screen, I had her words on a loop in my head.
“Grace didn’t feel like coming home for Thanksgiving, so I thought I’d treat the two of us to a cruise.”
Two women, two credit cards, and this schmuck right here footed the bill, all while I got to spend absolutely zero time with my daughter.
Shawn and I met up for beers after work, and I ended up word-vomiting on him about everything.
He thought I should involve our lawyers. He also thought I should put a limit on Grace’s credit card or temporarily freeze it.
The thought made my stomach churn.
“I’ll only push her further away,” I muttered into my glass.
“Is that possible?” he asked pointedly. “Seriously, man. I know you love the fuck outta that girl, but you can’t let her think this is okay.”
Adam’s text from the other night rattled around in my head too, and I’d spent all day yesterday ransacking my brain as well as the past ten years of my life.
As much as I hated to admit it, Melinda was right. I’d checked out. Or faded away, rather. It hadn’t happened abruptly. Instead, slowly but surely, over the course of a couple of years after we came back to Chicago, I’d become a shell of my former self.
It sickened me to know that Grace might’ve suffered for it. She hadn’t been the driving force that made us leave the West Coast and move back to Chicago. She hadn’t given up her career to stay at home and expect me to cover everything. She hadn’t done shit to deserve what’d happened to me.
I’d…lost sight of myself.
What I needed was to make amends with Grace before our relationship got further infected. I also needed to part ways with Melinda for good already. Thankfully, my lawyers were making progress there. My darling ex-wife could kiss the possibility of alimony goodbye. She was going to have to put on her work pants soon.
“You gotta be able to make some demands, Everett,” Shawn told me. “You’re not a fucking ATM.”
That was true. In order to set things right, I would have to tread carefully. But that didn’t mean letting Grace run over me. On the contrary, she needed me to be resolute again. As I’d been before.
“I’ll call her this week,” I said and held up two fingers for the bartender. “Her rent is due. She’ll need me then.”
“Shit,” I muttered, stumbling into the kitchen counter.
I dropped my keys there and rubbed the heels of my hands into my eyes.
Perhaps the four shots of vodka hadn’t been the best idea after five beers.
I loosened my tie and removed it when I reached my living room. The couch looked inviting in the dark, but I wouldn’t get off it if I sat down now.
I could still smell the garlic from the kebabs Shawn and I had bought before parting ways.
“Goin’ on a fuckin’ cruise,” I groused. “We’ll see about that.”
As I brushed my teeth, I wrestled off my clothes and searched my medicine cabinet for painkillers. Tomorrow was going to be rough. But not as rough as it would be for Melinda when she couldn’t spend my money anymore. Soon—it was going to happen soon. My lawyers were confident.
I spat some toothpaste into the sink, then rinsed and washed my face. Last but not least, I threw back two painkillers and left my bathroom.
I blinked in the dark, waiting for my eyes to adjust, and the first thing that became visible was the sketchbook on my nightstand.
It made me look toward Adam’s bedroom, and fuck me, he hadn’t fallen asleep yet.
I scrubbed a hand over my mouth and walked over to my window.
I’d had the image of him in my head while trying to draw anything but him lately.
No wonder I’d thrown away most of my sketches in aversion.
Adam was begging to be drawn.
Or…I was begging to draw him.
He was in the same position as last time. Comfortable in bed, propped up by a few pillows, one hand behind his head, one leg drawn up, duvet kicked aside, completely naked, with the blue flashes from his TV providing the only light.
There was something boyish about him sometimes, or unspoiled. He was already one of the most genuine souls I knew, and he liked the simple things in life. But right there, in his bed, he was all man.
He adjusted himself and kept his hand on his cock.
I found myself wishing I had a pair of binoculars so I could see more details. I wanted to trace every line, every dip and curve, every shadow.
After a while, he reached for something on his nightstand.
“Oh fuck.” It hit me when I saw the bottle, and I flinched back a couple paces.
He was going to get off.
I… That wasn’t where my mind had been.
Now was the time to back away and go sleep.
Right about now.
Adam poured lotion or whatever it was into his hand and started rubbing it in with slow, almost lazy strokes. He was in no rush. Then he picked up the remote control next to him and changed channels.
Whatever he settled on gave an unmoving glow to his room, and he closed his eyes. The light was whiter.
I supposed that ruled out porn.
A breath left me, and I could practically sense one leaving him too. I knew that sigh. I knew the relief of letting a long day fade away, of just sinking into your mattress and relaxing. Adam removed his hand from behind his head and scratched his chest absently. The unhurried strokes continued, and I stepped forward again.
I’d stop soon.
I hadn’t paid attention to his fingers before, and even as close as I was now, I couldn’t see the details I wanted to. But they were long and graceful. Fuck. I became frustrated. Did he bite his nails? His cuticles? Did he have any scars? Did his cock glisten with the lotion?
I shuddered, and my mouth went dry.
What the hell was I doing? What was I thinking? I’d once signed up for an art class, only to walk out when we were going to paint a nude couple. Why? I’d been too uncomfortable the moment the man had lost his robe.
Utterly fucking captivated by the scene, I planted a hand on the edge of the wall and watched Adam roll his hips seductively, and he pushed his hard cock into his fist. His lips parted some, and the sight stole my focus for a bit. I’d never paid attention to his mouth before either. Why would I?
I palmed my crotch carefully, the light touch sending a sharp zap of need through me. No—no, too much. I wouldn’t go there. It was too much. I let my hand fall to my side again, and I erased the past two seconds from my mind.
Was he fantasizing about other men? I hadn’t exactly asked him about what Bella had mentioned. It wasn’t any of my business. Maybe he was gay. Maybe he was thinking about an ex or someone he wanted to date.
The thought of another set of male hands on Ad
am fucked with my brain. There was excitement and a bizarre curiosity.
Adam moved with his hand, shifting his hips and arching his back, and I couldn’t look away to save my life.
The minutes ticked by.
Holy fuck, he was incredible. He was beautiful. And I was trespassing more than I’d ever done before.
He parted his legs farther and started going faster, and his free hand slid down to cup his balls.
I swallowed thickly, and a shiver ripped down my spine.
“Come on,” I whispered, planting my hands on the cold window. “You’re almost there.” My sick thoughts raced ahead, and I began visualizing close-ups of his body when he climaxed. But all those thoughts came to a screeching halt when Adam tensed up and dug his head back into his pillow. I held my breath, anticipation swirling with something I couldn’t identify, and then he was coming. “Fuck!” I growled. I couldn’t see it properly from here. I didn’t know if the release shot over his chest or if it trickled down his cock. I only saw his rigid body jerking once, twice, three times. Next, he shuddered and threw one arm over his face, leaving his other hand to glide up his shaft and cup the head of his cock.
I drew a breath and realized my chest was heaving.
So was Adam’s.
Some way, somehow, I was going to put him in my sketchbook.
I couldn’t deny it any longer.
He did bite his fingernails. He’d bitten one of his cuticles to the point that it’d been bleeding too.
Less than twelve hours ago, those fingers had probably been coated in his orgasm. Now, the tips were glistening from the oil and salt of his fries.
“Yo! Earth to Ev?”
I snapped out of my staring with a quick shake of my head, and I picked up my burger. “Sorry, you were saying?”
He gave me a strange look, for which I couldn’t blame him. I’d been distracted ever since we sat down for lunch at Kell’s sports bar. Distracted by Adam’s fingers, the way he moved, his expressions, his goddamn eyes.
Something was very wrong with me.
Adam frowned. “What’s up wit’chu?”
I’m wondering that too.
“I didn’t sleep well.” An outright lie. I’d been dead to the world once I’d fallen asleep, and I’d missed my alarm going off, resulting in me missing my train this morning. “How’s Bella doing?” I took a bite of my burger.
His frown didn’t ease up. “That’s not the daughter we’re talking about. We were discussing your strategy to get Grace to Chicago.”
Right. Christ, I was useless today.
“I’m going to bring up that I’ve been trying to reach her every day, and that her obvious dodging of my calls and texts have forced my hand,” I said. “I won’t make it about money—”
“Why?” he demanded.
I sighed. “Because I know her. I know how stubborn she is. If I tell her to get her ass to Chicago or she can kiss my money goodbye, she will cut her credit card into pieces and go out and find a job.”
And I wanted her to focus on school. She hadn’t picked her major yet, and the clock was ticking.
“Sounds familiar.” Adam quirked a wry grin and shook his head. “I guess that’s admirable.”
“Speaking from experience?” I wanted to know. I wanted to know everything about Adam.
He half shrugged. “Kinda, but you’re not changing the topic. If you don’t make it about money, how’s she gonna be motivated to come up here?”
I had my ways. Once upon a time, she respected me, and Adam had inspired me to think back on the man I used to be. There were several aspects I missed and was working on bringing back.
“I have an excellent Dad Tone,” I admitted. “I use it so rarely that when I do, it terrifies her.”
Something changed in Adam’s eyes, and he sat forward a bit. “Can I hear it?”
I let out a laugh. “I don’t think I could force it unless it’s necessary.”
Disappointment dimmed the light in his eyes before challenge gave the light a swift return. Fuck, he was a hell-raiser. “I can work with that, Daddy Ev. I’mma hear this infamous tone one way or another.”
“Watch it,” I warned.
His brows went up, and he bit his lip. “Just like that. More.”
Oh, for chrissakes. “Finish your food. Your shift starts soon.” I was not going to let a man eighteen years my junior rile me up. “You’ll be working it off later.”
In a stroke of pure genius, I’d suggested we meet up at my gym after work. As a member, I was allowed to bring a friend who might be interested in signing up too. Adam had no such desire, according to him, but he said he wasn’t about to turn down the free opportunity to work out at a proper gym. When I’d asked him what he normally did to stay in shape, he’d said he went running or swimming sometimes, and he had a chin-up bar at home. And when it wasn’t so cold out, he went to one of the outdoor gyms in the park.
Either way, in a few hours, I would get to watch him up close. I didn’t care how perverted and sick it made me; I was on a mission, and I couldn’t see past it. I had to see him—all of him. For some reason. The gym was perfect. As were the showers afterward.
There was one thing I hadn’t anticipated about working out with Adam.
I hadn’t in a million years thought it was going to be fun.
While I was drowning in head-spinning material I was saving for later, Adam had an energy about him that made me want to do better. The gym was crowded and pumping out the worst kind of music, but it faded into the background when Adam and I spotted for each other.
“I can totally relate to this song,” Adam grunted and sat up. “I am a sexy lady.”
I laughed and took another swig of my water before we changed places. It was my turn on the bench press. “Is it still Katy Whatsherface?” Truth be told, I couldn’t tell the difference between this and that pop diva. I slid down on the bench and looked up at the bar above me.
Adam cocked his head, and I caught a bead of sweat trickling down his throat. “Not even close, even less now.”
The song had changed.
He bobbed his head to the beat and did a marvelous impression of a DJ with a turntable on his way to my side of the bench. “This guy can bring sexy back any fucking day of the week.” He smirked down at me. “Are you waiting for the seasons to change?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. I’d already flipped him off a couple times, so I skipped this one. Instead, I grabbed on to the handlebar and adjusted my grip. Then I took a couple deep breaths and started a new set.
One.
Two.
I’d seen Adam’s calves and thighs as he’d warmed up on the treadmill.
Three.
I’d watched the muscles in his back ripple on the rowing machine.
Four.
Five.
I’d witnessed his white T-shirt go from dry to soaked and clinging to his body.
Six.
Sweat got in my eye, and I gritted my teeth as I lifted the barbell a seventh time. I had nothing to brag about yet, but I’d gone from 125 pounds to 140 since I started working out. It had to count for something.
“Jesus Christ, you’re—I mean, that’s good.” Adam coughed and reached for his water bottle. “Three more.”
Refusing to do worse than him—I desperately needed the ego boost—I screwed my eyes shut and put all my strength into the last two.
Adam helped me get the barbell into place after the last one, and I dragged myself up into a seated position.
He tossed me my towel, flushed and sweaty, and I was equally drenched.
“We should probably wrap up soon,” he said. “I got the sitter till seven thirty.”
Oh, thank God. “I’m ready to hit the showers.” I wasn’t sure I could take any more. In my defense, I’d been doing my damnedest to keep up with a twenty-seven-year-old. “Are you sure I can’t trick you into letting me pay for a membership? I’ve had fun working out with you.”
His cheeks tinted
a darker shade of pink, something I found overwhelmingly attractive, and he smiled and shook his head. “You’ve already paid for that cooking class that starts after Thanksgiving. That’s more than enough, man.”
I would never be able to draw a blush in pencil. But maybe I could capture his rare moment of sweet modesty some other way. It was there in the quirk of his smile and how he’d lowered his gaze.
“Christmas isn’t far away,” I mentioned as we headed to the locker rooms. “An uncle is allowed to give his nephew gifts.”
An uncle probably wasn’t allowed to watch his nephew masturbate, but that was neither here nor there.
“Sure, let’s set a twenty-dollar limit.”
“That’s fine.” As if such a thing would deter me. I’d been married to Melinda, and I had a daughter. They’d taught me how to find loopholes in their own constant quest for them.
Once in the locker room, we got rid of our gym shoes and sweaty clothes, throwing them into our lockers before grabbing towels and body wash. I made a conscious effort not to look at him until he led the way into the showers.
I should’ve been ashamed of my behavior, I knew that. I should not have wished he hadn’t wrapped the towel around his hips on the way.
I was going to draw those two dimples in his lower back, though.
I’d draw every goddamn inch of his body so I could finally let go of this obsession.
In the shower room, there was one wall with stalls, one with open showers—no stall, no curtain—and one wall with changing stalls. I’d had a ridiculously small candle of hope burning that Adam would opt for the open showers. Alas, he hung his towel outside a stall and then stepped inside.
I snagged the stall next to his. At least the wall between us wasn’t too high. I was given a fantastic view of his chest and shoulders. More material to save for later.
“Fuck, that feels good.” I sighed as the warm water rushed down my body.
I’d had a string of aches since I’d begun going to the gym—if not in my neck and shoulders, then in my thighs or calves. Sometimes, my invisible abs too. But it wasn’t as bad as it had been. I was already feeling stronger, and mentally I felt like I was being woken from the longest sleep.
