Lost in a Moment (Trials of Fear Book 4)

by Nicky James

  “When do you get your braces off?” I inquired.

  My random question injected into the middle of her story jarred her to a stop. Only after the words fell from my mouth did I register how inattentive I just made myself look. She sipped her wine and poked her salad, pushing her food around her plate but not really eating. Why did girls do that?

  “Another year yet.” That was disappointing. “I heard about your friend. He’s the guy who lost his leg in that storm a while ago, isn’t he? House collapsed or something.”

  For no reason at all, her question rose my defenses, and I frowned. “Yeah. He was. Why?”

  She looked startled by my abrupt response and ducked her head to her plate, finally shoving a small bit of fish into her mouth. “I just feel awful for him. What a horrible accident.”

  This date was not going as planned.

  Considering my intention was to remind my body of what it enjoyed—which was not a firm chest, toned abs, broad shoulders, and a twelve o’clock shadow—I was having a hard time evicting Gray from my head. Nova asking about him wasn’t helping.

  “We saw his picture online. Larissa and me.” Her best friend, if I understood correctly. “We should double date sometime. Larissa thinks he’s sexy. She doesn’t care if he’s a cripple.”

  “Don’t call him that.” There was something about that term that really dug under my skin. Perhaps because it was the same degrading term Gray used on himself. “And he’s gay, so tell your friend it won’t be happening.”

  I refused to analyze why I took so much satisfaction in disappointing her. Or why I’d encountered a flash of irritation at hearing other people referring to Gray as sexy.

  “Oh. Sorry.” Another tiny nibble, this time of salad.

  I refilled my wine glass, sitting up straighter as I concentrated on sanding off my cantankerous edge so I could move this date in the right direction.

  My mind blanked, so when she spoke again, I was relieved.

  “So, Maria was telling me about a potential new exhibit you’re planning for the shop. Some erotic sex night thing?”

  Thank you, Maria! I can work with this.

  I smiled facetiously, quirking a brow. “Was thinking of making it a formal evening. You know, insist people come in costumes.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Women in period lingerie, men in tails and top hats.”

  She giggled, exactly what I was hoping for. “You’re kidding, right?”

  Of course, I was kidding. “I never kid. Would you participate?”

  “Would you be my date?”

  “Mmm…” A non-answer as I clinked our wine glasses before drinking deep. “I could see you in an early 1900s French corset with one of those lacy skirts that barely reach mid-thigh.”

  “Well,” she breathed. “I don’t have anything like that at home, but I do have something you might like I could model for you… later.”

  And that was why I’d asked Maria to get in touch with Nova. She didn’t require a whole lot of effort. A bottle of wine and dinner was the ticket.

  Was I proud of myself? No. But with the way I’d been questioning my sexuality lately, I felt compelled to prove just how perfectly arrow straight I was.

  I paid our bill and maintained my gentlemanly status by helping her put on her light jacket and opening the car door for her before she directed me across town to her apartment.

  The last time we’d hooked up, it was on my turf. Her apartment was far bigger and more extravagant than I expected for a woman living off a hairdresser’s salary. The couch was Italian leather, the entertainment unit was solid oak, and the art covering the walls were not cheap knock-off prints.

  “Can I get you a drink?” she asked, aiming for the open kitchen, visible from the front hall.

  “Sure.”

  I wandered the open living space, looking through the dozens of pictures gathered on a bookcase. I assumed many of the people photographed were friends, some family. There were a number with the same guy. He had Nova’s same blond hair and green eyes. Same nose and tiny stature. He looked slightly younger. I assume it was a brother. Funny, I hadn’t once in two dates bothered asking about her family.

  I peered over my shoulder, but Nova was still occupied opening a bottle of wine. I continued to wander, scanning the room, noting the expensive décor and wondering how she came about owning such things.

  An ornate grandfather clock in the corner caught my eye, and I wandered over to stand in front of it. Knowing my antiques, I pegged it as being an early 1940s piece, maybe 1950s at the latest. Admiring the fine brass hands and intricately gilded edging around its face, my mind drifted to Gray and the issues he’d taken with my personal clock.

  The steady ticking of the grand beast of a machine in front of me brought back all those bizarre moments I’d been observing with Gray since he’d been discharged from the hospital. More than once, I’d wondered about his mental health. There was something happening with him, and I’d been too distracted to fully realize it.

  “Here you go.”

  A hand brushed the small of my back before Nova appeared at my side with a glass of wine, feeding it into my hand.

  “Thank you.” I smiled and nodded at the couch where I saw she’d placed her own drink on a side table.

  We sat, Nova placing her body sideways so she could face me as she played her fingers through my curls. Girls always loved my hair a bit longer. It got me endless compliments. Curls? Who knew?

  She dove immediately into some story involving her friend Larissa and a trip they’d taken to Florida the previous year. I tried to pay attention, but my head was stuck on Gray, and it didn’t take much to tune her out. I mumbled affirmations in all the right places and smiled when she smiled, giving the impression I was still listening. Nova was none the wiser. Perhaps she was just as self-absorbed as I was.

  Something niggled at me when I considered Gray’s ongoing quirky moments. What was with that watch? Why did I suddenly have a clock in my bedroom? Had he consciously known he was about to destroy my antique? He had some kind of increased obsession with the time, and I couldn’t figure it out. Whatever it was, it wasn’t normal.

  Unable to puzzle out that particular quandary, my mind slipped to other things Gray related. Namely, his apparent infatuation with me I’d known nothing about. Before I could stop it, I called to mind the conversation we’d had before I left earlier this evening. I saw the hurt in Gray’s eyes, heard the jealousy in his tone. Then, I was right back in that bed with him…

  Nova, putting down her wine glass, tugged me back to the present. Without warning, she climbed onto my lap, straddling my thighs. Her dainty fingers combed through my hair. Her breasts crushed up against my chest, and before I could take a breath, her lips crashed into mine. Instinctively, I grabbed her waist as she boldly took control of the direction of our evening.

  I kissed her back, glad we were done with the niceties of conversation. Her kiss was fierce and demanding. When our teeth clicked with the mounting desperation, and my tongue encountered the metal inside her mouth, I stiffened—and not in the right way.

  Caution was the key with Nova. Those things were a damn hazard. I worked to slow us down, soothe her eagerness. There was no rush. She didn’t complain. Unconsciously, I swept my hands under the back of her shirt, and she took that as an invitation to press closer, grinding herself on my lap.

  It should have pleased me. My blood should have eagerly raced south. I’d been itching for this since Gray and I had ended up tangled in an awkward situation. For weeks, I’d wanted—no needed—to prove I was not confused.

  Except, my mind rebelled.

  His face wouldn’t leave me. As my body tried to move in one direction—with Nova toward the bedroom—my mind dragged me elsewhere. Toward him. Into scenarios that looked far different than the one I was experiencing. This night with Nova hadn’t killed my curious mind at all, it had enhanced it.

  Opening the locked door to my subconscious, I env
isaged and wondered how it would feel to kiss Gray like this. Or feel his hands all over me. His rough stubbled cheeks grazing my own. How would that hard body of his feel against mine? What would it be like to be wrapped in his scent, lost under his spell?

  There I was with a beautiful, willing woman on my lap with her tongue halfway down my throat and all I could think was, Is this what I want?

  It was more than a little terrifying thinking about sex with Gray instead of Nova, but after weeks of pushing those thoughts out of my head and denying my feelings, maybe it was time to actually consider that I was bisexual… or at least significantly curious.

  All I knew for certain was I needed to stop this and go home.

  Peeling Nova off of me was a challenge. Letting her down gently was less so—since I had a fair bit of experience in that department. Escaping to my car and driving home while considering the reality of what I’d done and why I’d done it terrified me.

  Was I really prepared to act on my feelings?

  It was after ten when I let myself into the apartment. On the short trip across town, I’d mulled over what I was going to do and didn’t honestly know. How the hell did I explain my confusion to Gray? “Oh, hey, remember that time I rutted your ass while I slept? Yeah, so, that was kinda hot, and I can’t stop thinking about it. Wanna do that again?”

  I groaned internally and swiped a hand down my face.

  The apartment was dark and quiet, except for a soft glow of light spilling out from the bedroom door. I poked my head in and found Gray curled up on my side of the bed, on my pillow, fast asleep on top of the covers wearing only a pair of sleep pants.

  The clock on the end table had been pulled right to the edge and was directly in front of his face. In his hand, he clutched that damn watch he’d bought.

  I stood over him for a minute, analyzing the oddness of the situation while ignoring the curves of his muscles and the detailed ink covering a good deal of his arms and chest. Carefully, I squatted down, removed the watch from his tight grasp, and laid it on the table before shoving the clock back so it wasn’t sitting right at the edge.

  Even in sleep, there was tension in Gray’s face. He wasn’t relaxed. His muscles were strained throughout his entire body. The fingers that had been holding the watch twitched, as though looking for the missing item, but he didn’t wake. I watched him for a few more minutes, quietly contemplating not only his troubled spirit but also the shocking realization that I’d just turned down sex with a beautiful woman to come home to Gray.

  Deciding on a shower before bed—since a lingering scent of Nova still clung to my skin and clothes—I stood and clicked off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into moonlit darkness. I was sure if Gray had his way, he’d keep the lights on all night.

  Yet another issue he seemed to be struggling with.

  Grabbing a clean pair of underwear from the dresser, I exited to take a long hot shower—and to think about what I was going to do about my own fucked up head.

  Only when I shut off the water did I hear the cries of distress coming from the bedroom. They were faint at first. A muttering of words I couldn’t make out. But they escalated immediately.

  Drying as fast as possible, I then tugged on my underwear before I shot down the hallway toward my room. All the while, Gray’s cries morphed into something more distinct. Words. Terrified words of a helpless victim enduring the aftereffects of a horrific accident.

  “Help me!” Gray sobbed. Over and over, followed by whimpers. “Anybody! Please help me!”

  When I burst into the room, I found him thrashing, still fast asleep, clawing at nothing as his shrill screams turned more and more desperate and agonizing. Even in the moonlight, I could see the terror on his face and the sweat coating his skin. This wasn’t the first time he’d had nightmares of being trapped under his house, but it was the most intense I’d seen it.

  He was crying, even in sleep. Large tears streamed down his face as he grasped his leg, begging whatever had captured him to let go. Calling for help that would never come.

  My heart shattered seeing the all-encompassing pain and fear destroying my best friend. A man who I’d known all my life as being a pillar of strength. His accident had broken him in ways I couldn’t fathom.

  Without thinking, I crawled across the bed, hushing him as I approached, calling out to him. His arms flung about, fingers grasping the air, desperate pleas blubbering from deep within his soul. And the tears fell. I wrapped him in a tight embrace, held his arms safely folded against his chest so they wouldn’t smack me as I whispered in his ear.

  “Gray. Shh… You’re safe. I’ve got you. Gray, wake up. It’s a dream, Gray.”

  It didn’t go unobserved that I was holding him in the exact same position as that night I’d advanced on him. His back cradled against my front.

  His whimpers continued, but his thrashing stilled. Under my hand, his heart jackhammered.

  “Shh… wake up. You’re safe, Gray. You aren’t there anymore.”

  It was a short time later when he came awake on a gasp. I squeezed him tighter, reassuring him.

  “You’re safe. You’re not there anymore. Breathe.”

  Had I triggered this by turning off the light? Did his subconscious mind somehow know?

  His breaths came in short, uneven gulps, but otherwise, he lay perfectly still. His skin was hot, vibrating and sweaty against my own. With my face close to his ear, close to his skin, and the events behind us, I became hyper-aware of his scent and our proximity. Hyper aware of our connection.

  My heart rate instantly mirrored his, and I tipped my chin down so my nose brushed just under his ear. I inhaled. Sweat, body wash, and that mind-tingling essence I now recognized as Gray. A rush of endorphins flooded my body. Mindlessly, I ghosted my lips along his flesh, an aching need arising within me that I’d never felt before.

  Gray grew still in my arms, and the steady rise and fall of his chest stuttered.

  I didn’t know what I was doing, I was just flying on instinct and praying I didn’t fuck up our friendship in the process. What if I did this and regretted it tomorrow? What if once I started, I decided I didn’t like it?

  Tentatively, I darted my tongue out and glided it softly along the racing pulse in his neck before retracting it in fear. My dick swelled, and Gray shuddered.

  “Beck?” he whispered, his voice raspy and thick.

  “Shh… Just…”

  Just what? Let me explore this? Let me taste you? Let me feel what this is between us that I haven’t been able to ignore?

  Not knowing what to say, I mouthed along his neck to his ear, planting open-mouthed kisses as I slid my hand over his tight abdomen, memorizing the hard curves of muscles. I planted my hand just under his navel and urged him to shuffle back as I pressed my hips forward, seeking that same crevice I’d enjoyed weeks ago in my sleep.

  When my erection made contact, Gray groaned, “Fuuuuck…” and tilted his head, giving me access to his neck.

  I could barely catch my breath. Choking on nerves and fear and desire, I rutted against him in the same fashion as before, only this time, I was wide awake and savoring every sensation as they rippled over my body.

  I wasn’t sure how far I was prepared to take it. With a layer of clothing between our lower halves, it felt somehow safer, less terrifying than if we were naked. It was reminiscent of that first fumbling experience I’d had with sex when I was seventeen. Desperately wanting to remove Bethany Wright’s bra and panties yet too afraid to make a move. Who could have known I’d be right back in that moment but with Gray… thirteen years later.

  Gray rocked back against me, and I bit into his flesh at the powerful sensations overtaking me. If we kept this up, I was going to come. Did I want that? If I let go, there was no turning back.

  Before I could ask myself more questions, Gray’s hand came to rest over mine—the one still planted under his navel. He took a firm hold and guided it lower. It was my turn to hold my breath. My hips stut
tered, losing their rhythm, then I froze altogether when he placed my hand over his very hard dick.

  I’d never felt or dreamed of touching another man’s appendage before. It was staggering and scattered all my barely controlled thoughts into the wind. Even with his sleep pants as a barrier, I felt every ridge and every pulse of need flowing through him. And fuck, the asshole was generously endowed.

  He guided my hand in a gentle journey up and down, encouraging me to stroke him. When my fingers brushed his swollen head, Gray’s breathing hitched. Probably sensing I couldn’t take the initiative on my own, Gray didn’t remove his aiding hand.

  As I settled into the action, reveling in the pleasured noises filling the air, I resumed grinding against his backside, wedging my dick in the tight crack of his ass as shooting pleasure ripped through my body.

  “Fuck, Beck,” Gray panted.

  He squeezed my hand tighter around him. Encouraged a faster speed. When he tilted his face around, seeking my mouth, I hesitated. Part of me wanted to kiss him just as badly, but it was overload for my head, and I couldn’t.

  When I delayed, he didn’t press the issue and allowed me to continue exploring the crease of his neck and the sensitive spot right under his ear.

  My system went offline. It was all smell, taste, touch, and a hot rushing sensation swamping my bloodstream. Before I knew what was happening, Gray stiffened in my arms, his head pitched back, and a soundless cry filled the dark room as my hand grew wet with his cum as it spilled in his pants and soaked through the fabric.

  Holy. Fucking. Shit.

  Did that just happen?

  Instead of disgust or uncertainty, the sensation was so fucking erotic it tipped me over the edge as well. I bit hard into Gray’s shoulder and thrust once more into the warm crease of his ass, pulsing my release into my underwear and trembling with the mind-blowing, all-encompassing orgasm.

  It took time for the post-orgasm bliss to settle. Neither of us moved. I was aware of so many things at once, I was overwhelmed. Scared. With my hand still on Gray’s softening dick, I considered the dampness there along with the one I’d created in my own pants.