“No, of course not.” Mark frowned. Unfortunately, the bartender chose that moment to approach them and it was another minute before Mark could continue. “Why would you think that?” he asked once he’d placed his order.
“I’m not sure, love. This isn’t territory I ever expected to cross with you.” Alistair’s expression appeared uncertain, something Mark had never seen before, and he gave Mark a very gentle smile. “I want to be certain the overtures I make are still welcome, obviously. Because if you’ve moved on, well... Perhaps you and I need to change the nature of our friendship. Because we are friends, Mark, whether we’re fucking around or not. Or at least I hope you feel that way, too.”
A real sense of apprehension went through Mark. He’d known Alistair for years. Relied on Alistair, if he were honest, to ground him in ways other people didn’t, because Alistair got Mark. He’d been there during Mark’s trouble with his parents and many times since, his arms and bed open, and wearing that easy, sexy smile. The last thing Mark wanted was to change their relationship when that change could mean loss.
He locked eyes with Alistair, aware he was almost glaring, though he kept his tone even. “Of course, we’re friends, Alistair. There’s no need to change anything. If there were, you’d be one of the first people I’d tell, not one of the last.”
“All right, then. I’ll set something up soon.” Alistair’s handsome features fell into a familiar winning smile. “But I suggest you stop ignoring my messages, Mark. I may act like I’m made of Teflon but you could hurt my feelings if you tried.”
“I’ll do better,” Mark promised, and he exchanged another kiss with his friend before Alistair slipped away to rejoin his companions. The bartender had set Mark’s order down in front of him when a tall, familiar figure filled the space Alistair had just vacated.
“Need any help?”
Mark shot a smile Owen’s way. “I do, thanks.” He picked up his own glass of red and Owen’s white Merlot, then nodded toward the two remaining glasses of white wine. “Would you grab those so I don’t make a mess?”
“Sure. Who was that you were talking to?”
“That was Alistair.” Mark wanted to laugh at the way Owen’s eyes went cartoon wide.
“Holy shit, really?”
“Mmhmm.” Mark led the way to the table, but continued speaking over his shoulder. “He and some friends stopped in for dinner before the theater tonight and he came over to say hello. We said we’d hook up later this week so we can catch up properly.”
The next two hours were filled with talk of dates and color swatches and some of the best Northern Italian food Mark had eaten in some time. However, as the dinner wore on, he couldn't help noticing Owen seemed slightly off, his smiles less sunny and his shoulders tense. His expression appeared relaxed when he met Mark’s gaze, but there was something unreadable in his eyes.
“Everything okay?” Mark asked him after they’d ordered dessert and coffee.
Owen’s mouth tilted in his crooked smile. “Sure. I’ll be right back,” he said.
He patted his trouser pocket, a silent signal he wanted a smoke, and made a face at Mark’s slight scowl. Mark took the opportunity to check his messages after Owen had loped off, however, and smiled to see Alistair had already taken the initiative to set something up.
I have tix for A Doll’s House Sunday night—come with me?
Mark liked the prospect of a night of Ibsen and Alistair very much and said so in his reply. They went back and forth exchanging flirty promises, but Mark pocketed the phone again when Owen slid back into his seat.
Owen cocked his head. “Got a date?”
“For Sunday,” Mark replied. “Alistair’s got theater tickets.”
“Mmm, sounds nice.”
Mark sensed Lauren and Keith watching their exchange, but he was more struck by the reserve he read on Owen’s face than any kind of ire his sister might be holding back. The arrival of their dessert prevented him from asking Owen about it, and by the time the plates were set, Owen’s expression had cleared.
Owen fell quiet again as they walked from the restaurant to Mark’s place after dinner, but Mark didn’t take that to mean anything, especially after Owen took his hand. They stayed close as they rode the elevator upstairs and walked down the hall to Mark’s apartment, and once inside, Owen’s board was on the floor and Owen was on Mark, hot mouth and hands so distracting Mark nearly forgot to close the door behind them. They stumbled to the bedroom, pulling at each other's clothes, and Mark pushed Owen against the tall windows and worked at unraveling his control.
“Oh, God.” Owen gasped at Mark’s tongue on his Adam's apple.
“Mmm.”
Mark kissed Owen’s neck some more, just to hear him groan, and his skin prickled at the urgency in Owen’s touch. Owen peeled Mark’s shirt from his shoulders even as Mark tugged him toward the bed.
Mark pushed him down on the mattress and ran a palm over Owen’s soft hair. Owen grasped Mark’s hips, gaze fixed on Mark’s, the earlier coolness in his face replaced with need. Desire unfurled in Mark, mixed with something hotter and more weighty that he couldn’t name. Owen’s dark eyes were liquid with trust and arousal, and something intense Mark had never seen before.
Mark could lose himself in those eyes. Something he really wanted to do.
Fuck.
He cupped Owen’s face and bent, watching Owen’s eyelids slide closed as Mark kissed him deep and slow. Owen lay back, pulling Mark with him, and Mark settled between his legs. Lust shot through him as their cocks brushed together, and Mark arched into Owen with a groan.
“Fuck, baby.”
Owen opened his eyes and his wanton expression made Mark’s dick throb.
“Want to feel you,” Owen said, his voice sandpaper rough.
Moving quickly, Mark leaned over Owen for the condoms and lube. But when he pushed up onto his knees, Owen took the opportunity to take himself in hand and Mark paused simply to watch. Owen was so gorgeous, his lids at half-mast and his lips wet and swollen from kissing, and he pushed his head back into the pillow with a huff.
Mark tore the foil wrapper open. He made a show of slicking and sheathing himself, and he shot Owen a wicked grin. He pumped himself so slowly he ached, just to hear Owen grumble.
“Jesus, Mark, get over here.”
“So impatient.” Mark chuckled at Owen’s narrowed eyes. “So eager for me, too.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Owen managed, though the sass in his tone faded and turned into a soft plea as Mark slid a finger inside him. “Oh, fu-u-uck.” His voice wavered.
Mark teased and worked him until he writhed. Owen raised his hands over his head and fisted the sheets, and he bucked hard when Mark took him in his mouth. Mark held him down and took his time, intent on reducing Owen to pieces.
Owen gasped, his voice strung tight as a bowstring about to snap. “I—Mark, fuck. Please.”
Only then did Mark sit back. He pulled his fingers clear and his gut pulled tight at Owen’s low, desperate groan.
“So greedy,” he murmured, almost to himself.
He lined up and pushed inside Owen, and Owen held his breath, only letting it go when Mark paused. Their panting breaths filled the silence around them. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of Mark’s face, and his head spun with lust.
He fell forward and caged Owen between his arms. “Okay?”
“Yeah,” Owen whispered. His hands were in constant motion, as if he wanted to touch every part of Mark he could reach. He smoothed the sweat-damp skin over Mark’s ribs and rubbed circles into the tense muscles of his shoulders. “M’okay.”
Reaching down, Mark hooked one of Owen’s legs up, tucking the knee under his arm and moving even deeper. Owen cried out and clenched his eyes closed, his head pressed back hard against the pillow. His cock jutted between them, thick and hard.
“Touch yourself, baby,” he murmured. “I want to see you come.”
Owen moaned. He took himself in hand and fire
coiled inside Mark at the way his face went slack. He’d never seen Owen so worked up. Owen was panting, his shallow breaths almost too fast, and a deep flush stained his neck and chest. He shook and mumbled, his words a mashup of nonsense and endearments, his free hand clutching Mark’s in an iron grip.
“Need it, Mark,” he murmured, his voice forlorn. “I need—ah, fuck!”
“God.”
Mark drove into him faster, his own control hanging by a thread. A familiar tingling started low in his groin, but he gritted his teeth, struggling to stay in control. He wanted Owen to come first, to feel him fall apart and watch his face as he soared. Owen’s eyes flicked open and the raw emotion in them made Mark’s throat tighten.
He pressed his mouth to Owen’s ear. “So good. Love this,” he murmured. “Love this with you, Owen, every fucking time.”
Owen swore. He threw his free arm over his eyes and his cock pulsed, marking their skin with his cum. His ass tightened around Mark, pushing him over the edge, and the world tilted around Mark in a white roar of pleasure that almost swallowed him whole.
Owen’s breaths were still loud when Mark came back to himself, and his body trembled with tension. Mark pulled out as gently as he could and shushed Owen when he hissed.
“Easy,” he murmured. Mark tossed the condom into the trash, then swiped at the cum and lube on their bodies with the sheet. Owen slowly rolled onto his side. Mark fitted himself against Owen’s back and held him while he panted. “Take it easy, Owen.”
Owen turned his face into the pillow. He lay tense in Mark’s arms, but brought his hands to rest over Mark’s and gripped him tight. Mark kept up a steady flow of words, pressing kisses on Owen’s shoulders and neck, until his breathing had evened out and his body relaxed.
“Sorry,” Owen mumbled. He sounded even more wrung out than Mark felt. “Not sure what happened. It was...there’s so much.”
“It’s fine,” Mark said. “You all right?” Owen’s yawn made him smile.
“M’okay.”
“I’ll get something to clean us up,” Mark said, but Owen’s reply got lost in another yawn.
He’d dozed off by the time Mark came back with a warm washcloth, and hardly stirred as Mark wiped him down. Owen turned toward Mark once he’d slid back into the bed, though, just as he always did, and Mark wrapped him up, soaking in the warmth of that tight embrace.
~ooOoo~
“Mark.”
“Mmm?”
“I have to go.”
Mark blinked. The gray light of early dawn leaked in past the corners of his window shades and the room lay mostly dark around him, shadows obscuring Owen’s face when Mark peered up at him.
“I just wanted to say goodnight.”
“Dunno if it’s nighttime anymore.” Sleep made Mark’s brain sluggish. He rolled from his stomach onto his back and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Lie back down and I’ll make you breakfast in a couple of hours.”
“Can’t,” Owen replied. He ran his hand over Mark’s hair. “I have too many deadlines and I need to go in to the office.”
“Before sunrise? On a Saturday?” Mark frowned. He settled a hand on Owen’s waist and realized then he was already dressed in his street clothes. “You know you can stay, Owen, right?” He could practically hear Owen’s smile.
“I know. I still need to leave. Go back to sleep, Mark, and I’ll talk to you soon.”
Mark tried to summon the energy to grumble, but Owen bent and kissed him, and the tender touch pulled a sleepy sigh from him instead. His kept hold of Owen’s waist and drifted off while Owen ran the tip of his nose along Mark’s cheek, his breath as soft as a whisper.
CHAPTER SEVEN
As planned, Mark spent Sunday evening with Alistair. They chatted over their cocktails and Cobb salads, and he thought again about how much he’d miss this camaraderie if things with Alistair were to go bad. Their years of friendship made their interactions a well-choreographed dance, sure and strong and lacking the missteps that could occur between less-familiar lovers. From their first cocktail of the evening to Mark’s name on Alistair’s lips as Mark made him come, Mark knew what to expect from the man at his side, and knew that he’d enjoy it.
But sleep eluded Mark as he lay beside a slumbering Alistair in Alistair’s big, expensive bed. Wired like he’d overindulged on coffee, he stared at the ceiling and his mind went in circles about why his otherwise perfect evening had left him feeling the slightest bit hollow. Something had been missing, something vital and vivid with a husky voice and an uneven smile that promised things Mark hadn’t found anywhere else.
Owen.
Mark’s stomach sank as the thought took hold. Owen had left a six-foot-two empty space in Mark’s evening and—not for the first time—Mark wondered what Owen had got up to since leaving in the predawn hours of Saturday morning.
He’d been on Mark’s mind often, even sneaking past his defenses during the date with Alistair. Mark had reached out to Owen a few times over the weekend, but his messages had gone unanswered. Though he knew Owen sometimes forgot to check his phone while working, Mark suspected something else was at play. Owen’s emotional outburst in bed had caught him off guard, as had the vulnerability Owen had shown in its aftermath. Mark still didn’t know what had set Owen off, but he felt something had changed between them. He just wasn’t sure what that something was.
Monday and then Tuesday passed without word from Owen, while Mark wondered what the fuck was going on. By Wednesday morning, he’d started to wonder if Owen hadn’t simply ghosted, a prospect that troubled Mark far more than he’d have expected.
The idea Owen had moved on rankled. Mark didn’t have the first clue where to file his disappointment if it turned out to be true, either. And knowing Lauren would ask what had happened made his stomach twist as he bought his lunch from a food truck parked near the hospital.
Tucking the bag in the crook of his arm, Mark turned and almost dropped it when he caught sight of Owen standing on the sidewalk not far away, his eyes on Mark and his hands wrapped around the nose of his board, which was propped against his knees.
“Owen!” Mark’s grin faded slightly as he got closer, in part because Owen looked dead on his feet, but also because he was eyeing Mark in a wary kind of way, his brow puckered as if he was parsing out a problem.
After a beat, he gave Mark a small smile. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Mark stepped up and drew Owen into an easy, one-armed hug around the board between them and breathed in his spicy, woodsy smell. “What are you doing over in this part of town?” He pressed a kiss against Owen’s cheek and smiled when Owen returned it, his lips soft and warm for a fleeting moment before he stepped back.
“I had a client meeting down the street.” Owen shrugged. “I was headed back to the subway, but saw you there by the truck. Are you going on duty?”
“In about an hour, yeah.” Mark frowned at the dark smudges under Owen’s eyes. “Where have you been? And why do you look like stir-fried shit?”
“Um.” Owen ran a hand over his hair. “Lots of deadlines, like I told you, so I’ve been working a lot. A big round of changes came in on the work I did this weekend, so that’s kept me going pretty late.”
Mark didn't like that Owen’s averted his eyes, as if he were uncomfortable meeting Mark’s gaze. “Okay. Well, I’m glad you turned up. I’d started wondering where you were.”
“Oh.” Doubt colored Owen’s voice. “I didn’t think that you—shit. I’m sorry. I just didn’t think. I should have checked my messages.”
Mark knocked his shoulder gently against Owen’s. “It’s okay.”
And it was. More than okay, in fact. Seeing Owen brought home just how accustomed Mark had become to spending time with him.
“Can you stick around for a while?” Mark asked. “I was about to eat lunch and I’ve got enough for two, if you’d like to share.”
It was as if a wall came up between them. Owen licked his lips and glanced at the bag in Mark�
��s hand before he gave a tiny nod. “Sure, okay. That’d be nice.”
They walked to the main entrance of the hospital and sat in a corner of the atrium where the gentle splashing of the water feature at its center disguised the awkward stops and starts in their conversation, pauses that made Mark’s stomach sink. Things between them had always been so easy and the tense line of Owen’s shoulders now troubled him.
What on earth is going on here?
He was pleased when Owen’s somber expression fall away the moment Mark unloaded the contents of his bag.
“Damn.” A real grin spread over Owen’s face. He unbuttoned his black pea coat and stared at the box holding four plump hot dogs covered in toppings and condiments. Amusement and disbelief were clear on his face when he met Mark’s gaze. “Were you really going to eat all this by yourself?”
“I was tempted,” Mark replied. “I know better than to try, though. I figured I’d split it with the charge nurse on duty today. Charlotte shares my affinity for all things hot dog, and that’s just one reason we get along so well. Don’t worry,” he said when Owen’s eyebrows rose. “Charlotte had no idea I planned on bringing something back and she’s no doubt somewhere buying lunch as we speak.”
“M’kay,” Owen murmured. “If you’re sure.” The way he worried his lip between his teeth a moment pulled at something in Mark’s chest.
“I am.” Mark nudged the box Owen’s way with a smile. “Go on and grab one before I really do eat everything.”
The tension lessened after that and talked flowed more naturally as they ate. While curious about Owen’s radio silence, Mark didn’t press. Owen still seemed skittish and the last thing Mark wanted was to put him off. He stuck to neutral subjects instead, like the projects Owen had been toiling over and an article Mark had read about robot-assisted surgery.
Mark’s gaze moved over Owen while they chatted, drinking in his occasional smile and the sharp line of his jaw. The way Owen’s brown eyes flashed when he got excited about a topic and his full lips pursed as he sucked mustard from his finger. Warmth settled over Mark and filled him with a deep fondness.
Healing Hearts (Stealing Hearts Book 2) Page 6
