by K. C. Wells
How could I answer that? This was Mike talking, the man I’d loved. How could I admit to wanting someone else?
Mike let out a low growl. Okay. I can see I’m going to have to come at this from a different angle. I have to go.
Go? Go where? His abrupt mood change left me perplexed.
I need to see a man about a horse. Or, maybe a stubborn mule. I’ll be back. Then he was gone.
I came to a halt in the middle of the empty pavement. “Mike?” I whispered.
Nothing.
My head still spinning from his swift departure, I hurried home, my hands freezing. By the time I got through my front door, I was sure they’d turned to ice. I held them against the warm radiator, sighing with relief. I’d half-expected to find Mike already in the flat, but there was no sign of him.
Obviously still seeing about a stubborn mule. And wasn’t that intriguing? “He’d better not be talking about me,” I muttered.
After a hot shower, I felt human again. I was wrapped up in my thick robe, with my slipper socks warming my feet. As I was scanning the freezer’s contents for something tasty for dinner, the doorbell rang.
Frowning, I peered through the glass into the street beyond.
Ollie was standing there.
Chapter Thirteen
I opened the door and stood there, staring at him. “Hey. Did I miss a message or something?”
He gave me a sheepish smile. “Yeah, I probably should have told you I was coming round. But to be honest, I didn’t plan to. I was about to catch the train home, when for some reason I ended up on the wrong platform.” He chuckled. “I don’t know what was going on in my head. I just remember looking at the stations and thinking, ‘that’s where Andy is.’” Then he gave a shrug. “So I got on the next train.” Ollie flushed. “Yeah, I know it sounds nuts.”
I had an idea that the reason for Ollie’s change of plan might have had something to do with a certain naked ghost. Then I glanced down to where he carried a plastic bag.
He followed my gaze and smiled. “Yeah, I… I brought dinner. Nothing much. When I got off the train at Clapham South, there was this little supermarket and I just popped in there. I was looking at the ready meals, when this one leaped out at me.” He grinned. “Well, not literally. Oh, and there happened to be a decent bottle of wine in their fridges as well.” He tilted his head to one side, giving me an inquiring look. “So… are you going to let me in?”
I kicked myself mentally. “Please excuse my bad manners. Get in here before you freeze your butt off.” I stood to one side to let him come in, and he let out a pleasurable moan when the heat from the radiator hit him.
“Oh God, that feels wonderful.” He held out the bag. “You might have to prise this from my fingers. I think it’s frozen to them.”
I laughed. “Take off your coat, hang it up, go into the living room, and warm up a little. By the way, it’s a functioning fireplace, and those are real logs beside it. So if you fancy a fire…?”
Ollie’s eyes widened. “Seriously? That sounds wonderful.”
I took the bag from him and went into the kitchen. He’d brought macaroni cheese with bits of bacon in it, garlic bread, and a really good bottle of white wine. “This looks amazing,” I called out. “Plus, you’ve brought one of my favourite meals.”
“Really?” he called back. “What a coincidence.”
Coincidence my foot. I glanced around, but Mike was nowhere to be seen. This is your doing, isn’t it?
For once, the world’s most talkative ghost was silent.
I switched on the oven, before taking two glasses from the cabinet and opening the bottle of wine. I filled them, and then carried them into the living room.
Ollie had switched on the tree lights. “I hope you don’t mind. I always think it’s the best part of Christmas, the way the tree lights up the room.” He took a glass from me, then sat back on the couch, his gaze still focused on the tree.
I busied myself with starting a fire. “I’m glad you came.” The simple words didn’t begin to convey how pleased—and relieved—I was to see him.
“Hey, if I’d realized you had a real fire, I’d have been here sooner,” he joked.
I couldn’t keep the words in any longer. “Look, about last Saturday—”
“I’m sorry,” he blurted out. “I should’ve said something when we got up off the ice. It’s just that I was so… taken aback.”
That explained his reaction, but not the ensuing silence. I didn’t look at him, but continued screwing up newspaper and laying kindling in layers.
“I thought for a moment I’d imagined it.” He spoke so quietly that I had to strain to hear him. “What made it so surprising was that… I’d been thinking about doing the same thing, only I didn’t have the nerve.” I turned to look at him, and his gaze met mine. “But when you didn’t say anything, or try again, I thought you’d reconsidered.” He sighed. “I got the idea that maybe you thought it was too soon after Mike.”
“And here was me thinking the same, that it had only been three years since you lost Jay.”
Ollie laughed. “What a pair we are.” He gave me a questioning glance. “Now what?”
I went with practical, because my head was in too much of a state to deal with the implications right then. “Now we have dinner, we choose a Christmas DVD, and we sit on the couch with a glass of wine and enjoy the evening.”
Ollie’s eyes sparkled. “I think that sounds wonderful.”
So did I. As I got on with preparing for dinner, one thought consumed me.
He wanted to kiss me too.
It’s a Wonderful Life had gotten to the part where George Bailey was running through the town, wishing everyone a Merry Christmas. Dinner had long since been devoured, and the wine was gone. Ollie and I had started at opposite ends of the couch to watch the film, and what amused me was during the course of it, he had somehow gravitated toward me, until he was leaning against me, my arm along the back of the couch.
That wasn’t where I wanted my arm to be, however. I wanted to drape it over his shoulder, to feel his warmth beneath my fingers. The feel of his warm body against mine was wonderful. I didn’t move, relishing the closeness, the intimacy….
I’ve missed this.
Ollie stirred, and I cleared my throat. “Comfy?” Then I couldn’t resist adding, “You can always move a little closer.” I chuckled.
Ollie slowly turned his head toward me, and my heartbeat sped up a little at the sight of him. He’s so beautiful.
Ollie looked me in the eye. “Any closer, I’m going to be in your lap.” His lips were right there, inches from mine, and all I had to do was lean in and kiss them. I could smell his aftershave, a warm, almost spicy scent that was driving me insane. His gaze was focused on mine, his breathing quickening.
My heart pounded, but I couldn’t move.
Oh for God’s sake, just kiss him.
I stiffened, and Ollie froze. “We’re… we’re not alone, are we?”
I glared at Mike, who was sitting in the rocking chair by the bookcase. “No, we’re not.”
Ollie sighed. “Then this might be a good point for me to go to the bathroom.” He got up and walked toward the door, where he paused, smiling. “In case you boys want to talk.” Then he left the room, closing the door behind him.
I fixed Mike with a hard stare. Why are you here?
Mike folded his arms across his chest. Because you’re hesitating.
I wanted to protest, to tell him I wouldn’t have hesitated if he hadn’t suddenly appeared, but the words stuck in my throat. He’d nailed it of course. I took a deep breath. Kissing him seems so… final. I mean, once I do this… I’d never had a problem articulating my thoughts, but for some reason, I couldn’t think straight.
Mike smiled. Once you do this, I can rest. I told you why I came back. I couldn’t have you being sad and alone. You may not have thought you were in pain, but I could feel it, here. He placed his hand over his heart. You need to
be happy, and if I’m honest, I need to know that you’re happy because I can’t move on without it. He gave me a keen glance. If our roles were reversed, would you want me to sit here and not move on?
Of course, I joked. I mean how could you live your life without me in it? It was easier to retreat into humour.
Mike chuckled. I’m always going to be a part of your life, you arse. But I can’t hold you anymore. I can’t make love to you. And you need that, from someone who’s flesh and blood. Like Ollie. So kiss him.
I narrowed my gaze. You’re pushing awfully hard for me to kiss him. Why?
Mike’s eyes twinkled. Because we’re not big on sex where I am, and good gay porn is nearly impossible to find. I snorted. Then he sighed. I’m tired, Andy. We’re both locked in a cycle here. You won’t move on without me, and I can’t move on until I know you have. We can’t do that to each other. Let me go, let yourself live. Please. For me. If you like Ollie, then don’t let thoughts of me hold you back. I’m gone and you need this.
Tears stung my eyes and I wiped them away. There was such love in his voice. But there was one thing I was sure he hadn’t considered. What happens when I die? I mean…
He smiled. Like I said, we don’t do a lot of those things up here. There’s no jealousy or hurt. You getting together with Ollie is not gonna make anyone angry. When we’re finally all together again, we’re going to be friends who shared love. He winked. Now, would you please kiss him? Do this, and I will leave you alone for now.
For now?
He smiled. You get to see me one more time before Christmas. Then I’ll be gone. He cocked his head. And now I hear Ollie coming back, so that’s me done for tonight. He grinned. I mean it. I’m not gonna be here. And with that, he faded from view.
Ollie poked his head cautiously around the door. “Is it safe to come in? Because it’s very quiet in here.” Then he nodded knowingly. “You don’t have to speak out loud to him. I remember.” He came over to the couch and sat down. The film was finishing, and he reached over, picked up the remote, and switched off the TV. He locked gazes with me. “He is gone, right?”
I nodded. “And he’s not coming back. At least not tonight.”
Ollie’s smile lit up his face. “Good. Because I didn’t want an audience for when I did this.” And before I could catch my breath, he leaned in and kissed me, slowly at first, almost as if he was remembering how to.
I knew how he felt. The touch of his lips on mine was like waking in the morning after a wonderful dream, trying desperately to hold onto it, because it already had an illusory quality to it.
I didn’t want it to be an illusion. I wanted it to be real.
I tugged him closer until he was in my lap, his arms around my neck, my hands on his back. “God, I’ve missed this,” I murmured against his lips.
“Stop talking and kiss me,” he whispered, before exploring my mouth with his tongue. I couldn’t stop touching him. And I trembled to feel his hands on my body. I couldn’t get enough of it. The sensations were almost overwhelming. Only now, there was real heat in our kisses, our hands stroking and caressing, seeking flesh and warmth. He was moving in my lap, shifting, hips rolling, and it felt so good.
When he grasped my hand by the wrist and pulled it down to press it against his obvious erection, I groaned into the kiss.
“Do you want me to stop?”
I gaped at him. “Don’t you dare.” Waves of desire and urgent need crashed into me, and I gasped as nimble fingers unzipped my fly, dipped inside, and made contact with the head of my cock. I mimicked his actions, almost clumsily because neither of us was looking at what we were doing, we were so engrossed, so lost in our kiss. “Don’t stop,” I pleaded as he worked my shaft. I pushed up, letting it slide through his fingers.
“Ditto,” he gasped out, before throwing his head back when I did as instructed, the silken skin of his dick warm to the touch. “Oh, fuck. Just like that.” Then he leaned forward, and our foreheads met with a dull thud, not that he seemed to notice. My breathing was erratic and harsh as he brought me closer and closer, and I did my best to bring him with me. We stayed like that, our hands almost a blur, until we both passed the point of no return. I cried out as I shot my load, Ollie’s soft cries echoing mine. We clung to each other, trembling, shaking.
When my heartbeat had resumed its normal rhythm, I shuddered out a long breath. “Wow. When you want something, you just go for it, don’t you?” Except I hadn’t exactly pushed him away, had I? It had definitely been a joint effort. I reached for some tissues from a nearby box, and handed him a wad of them.
Ollie stilled, and for a moment I had the distinct feeling I’d said something wrong. Then he did a swift clean-up, before scrambling off me, hastily tucking himself back into his jeans, and fastening them.
I blinked. “What’s the rush?”
“Nothing. It’s just that… I just remembered I have an errand to run.” He looked around.
“Now?” Then I realized what he was searching for. “Your coat is hanging up in the hallway, remember?” My heart sank. He wants to leave?
“Oh yeah. Right.” He gave me a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Okay. I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you, all right?”
Okay, this was downright weird. “Okay,” I said slowly. What else could I say? I got up and adjusted my jeans, but he was already heading for the door. I followed him. Ollie squirmed into his boots, put on his coat, then turned to face me.
“Thanks for a lovely evening. Sorry I have to leave.” Then he leaned in and kissed me on the cheek, before opening the door and disappearing out into the night.
I closed the door, my mind in a whirl.
What the hell just happened? Then it came to me. He regrets it. That’s it, isn’t it? He started it, and now he wishes he hadn’t. And now that my brain wasn’t scrambled by lust, I could see his point. We’d just gone at it like bunnies. Okay, so a mutual hand job wasn’t exactly going at it like bunnies, but… I hadn’t even told him how I felt about him. Whatever I’d intended to say had been submerged in the rush to get my rocks off.
So now he thinks all I’m interested in is sex. Not that I could blame him. So what if he’d been the one to get the ball rolling. I hadn’t beaten him off with a stick, had I? No, I’d gone right along with it. And looking back, I couldn’t believe I’d done that. God, was I really so clueless? Maybe all Ollie wanted was some closeness, had overstepped, and all I’d done was roll with it. I hadn’t been thinking. My libido took control and I’d let it, and maybe all I’d succeeded in doing was pushing him away.
I sighed heavily. I’ve messed this up. I half-expected Mike to appear, but he was conspicuous by his absence. Part of me was glad. I hoped he hadn’t seen any of what had transpired, especially Ollie’s speedy exit.
Then it hit me. When Mike was alive, he was always the one who sought me out when I was feeling out of sorts, and he’d talk me through it. He was definitely the more dominant of the two of us. But Ollie wasn’t Mike, which was fine, because I didn’t want a replacement Mike—I wanted an Ollie, someone who was on an equal footing. And that meant I needed to step up if I wanted him.
There was only one thing to do—work out how I could fix this.
Just then, my phone vibrated. I heaved a sigh of relief when I saw Ollie’s number. “Hey,” I said softly as the call connected. “I’m really glad you called.”
“I’m sorry,” he began, but I wasn’t going to stand for that.
“You have nothing to be sorry about, okay? There were definitely two of us on that couch.”
“Yeah, but I shouldn’t have acted so—”
“Stop right there.” I sighed. “Look, we need to talk about this, but not on the phone. Can you come back here?”
“Not tonight. I need to think.” He paused. “But I can come over tomorrow, if that’s okay.”
“Of course it is.” Thank God. At least we were discussing it. “Go home, get some sleep, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” I wanted t
o say more, to tell him how important he was to me, but that wasn’t a conversation for the phone either.
“Okay. Goodnight.” He disconnected.
I put down my phone and raked my fingers across my scalp. He wasn’t the only one who needed to think. I needed to get things straight in my mind before I talked to him. And that meant confronting my own feelings of guilt.
I want us to be more than sex. I hoped to God Ollie wanted that too.
Chapter Fourteen
Saturday. Four days to Christmas
The next morning, I busied myself with mundane tasks like the laundry, housework and shopping, but the whole time, I was thinking about Ollie. I remembered the coffee shop, the cafe, decorating the tree, the skating… I recalled his smile, his blue eyes, his unruly hair that would flop over his eyes on occasion, the way he laughed. God, even his laugh made me feel good.
“So can we talk about this now?” Mike stood by the fireplace, a duster in one hand. Then he casually dropped it, catching the soft cloth on his dick where it hung, draped over his stiff shaft, and twitching.
“Show-off.” I arched my eyebrows. “You’ve come to help with the cleaning?” I smirked. “Wow. I guess leopards can change their spots.”
He gave me a mock glare. “Just because I didn’t do much housework when I was alive, doesn’t—”
I snorted. “‘Much’? Try never.”
This time I got a full-on glare. “And now you’re being evasive.”
I sank onto the couch. “I got a little carried away last night.”
“You got carried away?” His eyes gleamed. That inflection told me we might have been observed. “And what’s wrong with that?”
“It was too soon.”
It was Mike’s turn to snort. “Says who? You wanted him, he wanted you… what’s the problem?”
I narrowed my gaze. “Then you did see what happened.”
Mike rolled his eyes. “Sweetheart, I’m dead, not blind. Or deaf, for that matter. But if it makes you feel better, I stopped watching when you started making out.” He grinned. “Or should I say when he took your hand and brought it to his—”
