I heard someone clap and yell out, “Yeah, boy! Get it.” Probably Brad.
Lindsey took me behind the barn, away from everyone, and shoved me against the wall.
“We shouldn’t—”
Her mouth crushed mine again. Wet and sloppy. She smelled like beer and something fruity.
I felt sick to my stomach, both from nerves and fear. I jacked off like crazy to porn, but when it came down to actually having sex with a girl, I made up excuses and bailed. I felt broken. Confused.
So, I kissed her back. It was empty and derived from my need to prove myself. I hated the way her lips felt against mine.
Lindsey then dropped to her knees in front of me, brushing her blonde hair from her face before unzipping my pants. My heart hammered against my ribs, and my throat felt so tight it was hard to breathe. She tugged down my jeans a little, taking my boxers with them. Even though I felt sick with nerves, my body reacted to her. My dick hardened as she gripped my base, and I squeezed my eyes shut.
“Cas?”
I opened my eyes to see her holding a hand over her mouth. As she hunched forward, I jumped out of the way. Lindsey puked on the grass, violently, and I grabbed her hair to hold it back. With my other hand, I tucked my dick back into my pants. I shouldn’t have felt so relieved, but I did. Which only added to my confusion.
I was the only guy I knew who’d be so happy to have a blowjob interrupted.
“Please don’t tell anyone about this,” Lindsey said, her hand shaking as she wiped at her mouth.
“I won’t.”
Truth be told, I probably would’ve embarrassed myself if she hadn’t puked. Either by running away or by coming way too quick because no one else had ever touched me before.
I made sure Lindsey found her friends before finding a spot near the fire and sitting. Faith shyly approached and asked if she could sit beside me.
“Of course. Pretty sure you’re the only other sober one here.”
“True,” she laughed and messed with her braid. “Was that your girlfriend?”
“No. Just a girl I know from school.”
As we talked, I found out Faith had also graduated recently and planned to go to college for graphic design. Her artsy interests explained the paint-splotched Converse. Never once did she make me feel uncomfortable like Lindsey did. She was definitely crushing on me, but she seemed interested in actually getting to know me instead of just making out and fucking in the barn or something.
“Is that your friend?” Faith asked, nodding to something behind me.
I turned to see Ryan stumbling around, and I sighed. “Yep. It was nice meeting you, Faith. I should go check on him.”
“It was nice meeting you too.”
I stood and approached Ryan. He had a red cup in his hand, and when he moved, the contents sloshed over the rim. I’d seen him drunk enough times to know he was fucking wasted.
“You okay?” I asked after he tripped over his own two feet and landed in the grass.
With his cheeks flushed and his eyes glassy, he grinned up at me and grabbed my shirt to pull me down with him. “I love you, Cas,” he mumbled, rubbing his cheek to mine. “You’re the best friend ever.”
“Love you too, buddy,” I said, gently pushing him away. “Come on, I think I need to take you home.”
“No!” Ryan flipped over and got on his knees before pushing himself to his feet. “Having too much fun.”
I followed him as he approached a group of girls. Ryan was a good-looking guy, and so the girls didn’t let his dumbass behavior while drunk stop them from returning his flirtation. I suspected many of them were drunk or close to it too.
Ryan set his sights on the hottest girl in the group and went in for the kill. They spoke softly in each other’s ears before Ryan draped his arm across her shoulders and winked at me. I shook my head as they left the vicinity of the fire and disappeared into the barn not far from us.
With how drunk he was, I doubted he’d be able to do much else than lie there. Not that I wanted to think about my best friend having sex.
A while later, Ryan returned with a goofy grin on his face and his pants unzipped. The girl didn’t look that satisfied, and I coughed to cover my laugh.
“Okay. Can we go now?” I asked.
“Cas,” Ryan said, gripping my shoulder. “You should let loose. Drink and fuck like the rest of us. There are so many hotties here.”
“I’m driving you home, remember?” I brushed his hand away and pulled out my phone to check the time. “Oh, shit.”
“What?”
“It’s after midnight.”
That sobered him up a little. His eyes widened and he ran a hand through his black hair. “Ah, fuck.” But then he started to laugh. And kept laughing.
“We’re leaving,” I said, grabbing his hand to drag him away.
“People will think we’re gay,” he snapped, yanking his hand from mine before shoving me backward.
I stared at him, shocked. His anger had come out of nowhere. Not even an hour earlier, he’d been lying all over me in the grass saying he loved me. And now he was suddenly worried about what people would think?
It made the fear inside me twist even more. The incident with Lindsey made me wonder if I wasn’t as straight as I thought. Would Ryan still want to be my friend?
Faltering in his step, he walked through the field toward his car. I followed in silence, wondering what had riled him up so fast. Had I unintentionally pissed him off? He was drunk and irritated at having to leave—that had to be the reason.
Reaching the car, he fumbled with the passenger-side handle. I opened the door for him.
He plopped into the seat and peered up at me through heavy-lidded eyes. “Thanks for having my back tonight. Sorry for snapping earlier and pushing you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“No problem,” I said, relieved he wasn’t mad anymore.
I had taken the keys from him when we’d gotten to the party, so I pulled them from my pocket and walked around to the driver’s seat. Ryan fell asleep on the way home. The purr of the engine made my eyes heavy too, and by the time I pulled into his driveway, I had to force them to stay open.
The porch light turned on before the front door opened. Emery stepped outside wearing a T-shirt and lounge pants, and his scowl was clear even from my distance. A glance at the clock told me we were nearly two hours past curfew. He’d probably been waiting up for us this whole time.
Shit.
I shook Ryan’s shoulder and told him to wake up. He mumbled in his sleep and turned his head toward the window. I shook him with more force, causing him to jolt awake.
“What the hell?” he said, glaring at me.
“Your dad is about to kill us both.” I motioned toward the house where Emery stood with his arms crossed. “Just wanted you to be awake so I didn’t have to face him alone.”
“Thanks, man,” he muttered dryly before opening the car door. When he stood up, he stumbled and slapped a hand on the hood. There was no way he could make it to the house on his own, so I got out to help him.
“Do you know what time it is?” Emery snapped once we were in the house. He had waited until we were inside to grill us. “What part of ‘be home by midnight’ do you not understand, Ryan?”
“Sorry,” Ryan said, not sounding the least bit apologetic, using the wall for support as he headed down the hall toward his room. “Won’t happen again.”
Emery moved his cold blue eyes to me, and the intensity of his gaze made me weak in the knees. But not from fear. As it so often did when around him, my blood heated and that strange feeling returned.
“It’s my fault for not keeping an eye on the time,” I said with a slight tremble in my voice. “Sorry, Mr. Cross.”
He released a long exhale. That’s when I suspected he’d been more worried than mad. When his gaze shifted back to me, the coldness had fled. “Thank you for bringing him home.”
“You’re welcome.” I took a s
tep back as I realized how close we’d been standing. “Um, good night.”
“You’re leaving?” Emery asked.
I turned back to him. “Yeah, I should get home.”
“It’s late and you look like you’re about to pass out. Stay here tonight.”
“Okay. Thanks.” It didn’t sound like a request anyway.
Ryan’s room was too much like a pig sty for me to sleep in, so I stole a pillow from his bed and went to sleep on the couch. The house was so quiet. Much different than mine. My mom usually always had a boyfriend over, and if I wasn’t getting into arguments with them, I was kept awake by the rowdy neighbors.
But as I lay on the couch and closed my eyes, there was no arguing, no loud music shaking the thin apartment walls, and no crying babies from the floor above us. I heard nothing but the soft whooshing of the ceiling fan.
Chapter 2
Emery
Ryan lay with one arm thrown over his face and his body hanging halfway off the bed. I took off his shoes and positioned him back on the mattress before tucking him in. A heaviness lingered in my chest as I looked down at him.
I missed the days when he’d smiled up at me like I was his hero. Like I was someone he loved. Now, he only stared at me with contempt and acted as though it was a burden to visit me. He’d only agreed to stay the night that night because his mom had asked him to.
My foot hit a bowl on the floor, and I bent down to pick it up, curling my nose at the sour smell of old milk. I grabbed some of the trash off his desk and turned off his bedroom light before going to the kitchen to dispose of the bags of chips and to rinse out the bowl.
How was it that he trashed his room so horribly when he only stayed with me a few days a month?
After turning off the kitchen light, I walked through the living room on my way to bed and stopped when I saw Cason. His muscled body was almost too big for the couch, but he looked peaceful as he slept.
Ryan had a lot of friends, but Cason was the most levelheaded of them all. Sweet-natured, intelligent, and responsible—he complemented my son well. Ryan was impulsive; an “act first, think later” type of guy. He needed someone like Cason to balance him and keep him on track.
Cason mumbled in his sleep and tossed to his other side. His shirt rode up, drawing my eyes to his toned stomach. I tore my gaze away and went to the hall closet that held spare blankets. I grabbed one and returned to drape it over him. Once he was covered, I tried not to stare at the sharp line of his jaw or the poutiness of his lips.
Of course I failed, and I loathed myself because of it.
I continued to my room and closed the door before sliding into bed. Sleep was far from my reach, though.
My attraction to Cason had started earlier that year, maybe February or March. A snowstorm had hit, unexpected because everyone had thought we’d have an early spring, and Ryan’s car had slid off the road not far from my house. His mom had been out of town at the time for work, so he’d called me. I’d gone to pick him up, finding Cason in the car with him when I got there.
The two of them had stayed a few days with me, and during their stay, I’d found myself paying close attention to the sound of Cason’s voice and the way his Adam’s apple moved in his throat when he swallowed. I’d then caught Cason’s eyes lingering on me too. As if maybe he felt that strange spark as well.
“Stop,” I muttered to myself. But then a memory sparked and went through me like an electric current.
When I had walked into Ryan’s room earlier and saw Cason undressing, it had mortified me. Mainly because of how much I liked seeing him that way: bare-chested, his long torso rippling with muscles, and the mouthwatering lines disappearing into his boxers.
Groaning, I grabbed my pillow and placed it over my face.
If I suffocated in my sleep, at least I’d be put out of my misery. Cason was only eighteen. The same age as my son. I shouldn’t have had those kinds of thoughts about him.
The next morning, I woke to the sun peeking through the open blinds and checked the clock beside my bed. Seven thirty. Ryan would probably sleep until noon as he usually did on the weekend, so it gave me time to decide what to do.
He’d broken curfew last night, but I wasn’t sure how much good a punishment would do. He would be going off to college in a few months. Did I really want to push him away even faster by being so strict? It would only make him hate me even more.
After showering, I dressed for the day and went into the kitchen.
“Good morning.”
Startled, I flipped around to see Cason sitting on a barstool, a cup of coffee in his hand. His light brown hair was messy, and faint pink marks covered his chest, probably from him sleeping so hard.
“I hope you don’t mind that I made some coffee,” he said, his cheeks flushing.
“Not at all.” I grabbed a mug from the cabinet and poured a cup before joining him at the island. “I didn’t expect to see you awake already.”
Cason shrugged. “I’m used to getting up early. If I sleep too late, I feel like the day is wasted or something.”
I smiled as I lifted my cup to take a drink. We had that in common.
What else do we have in common?
No. Don’t go there.
“What are your plans now that you’re graduated?” I asked. “Are you going to college?”
Ryan had received a baseball scholarship and would be starting school in the fall, but I didn’t know if Cason planned to do the same. It wasn’t as though they came over to my house enough for me to know.
“Yes, sir,” he answered, polite as ever. “I think I’m gonna go for a criminal justice major.”
Cason impressed me. I’d never met another eighteen-year-old who had such a good head on his shoulders. We’d spoken in the past but never like this, one-on-one and so… casual.
I met his eyes, a beautiful shade of brown, and quickly looked away.
“Would you like some eggs?” I asked, standing from the stool and going over to the refrigerator.
“I’m all right. No need to go out of your way for me.”
“It’s the least I can do after you babysat Ryan last night,” I responded, grabbing the carton of eggs and butter before finding a skillet.
Cason laughed. “It wasn’t a problem. Wasn’t like I wanted to drink anyway.”
“Why not?” Having drank a lot while underage and partied hard in high school, I was no saint. I knew how kids were.
“Not much of a drinker,” Cason answered with a shrug.
As I made us breakfast, a silence passed between us. I knew a bit about Cason but not enough to hold a conversation for long. I could always get to know him, however, I was afraid it would seem strange to him.
Because it would be, I told myself as I scooped scrambled eggs onto a plate and handed it to him. Better to keep him at a distance.
Once the toast popped up, I put the slices on another plate and brought it over to the island, along with grape jelly.
“Thank you, Mr. Cross,” he said, staring at the food with what I could only describe as a sad expression. Then he smiled and lifted his gaze to mine. “It looks great.”
It was only eggs and toast. Nothing fancy. There wasn’t even bacon or sausage to make it a proper breakfast. Yet, he acted like it was a big deal. The genuine gratitude he conveyed hit me square in the chest.
“You’re welcome.” I refilled both of our cups with coffee before walking toward the archway that led out of the kitchen.
“You’re not eating?” Cason asked.
I stopped and glanced back at him. Even with his strong masculinity, he radiated innocence. It was the one word I felt described him better than any other: innocent. A vast difference from me.
“I’m not hungry,” I said, turning away from him. “Leave the dishes when you’re done. I’ll take care of them.”
Before I could change my mind, I went to my home office and shut the door. I opened the file on my desk and looked it over, but my attention was on
the brunet sitting in my kitchen. After a few minutes, I heard the sink running along with the clanking of dishes. He cleaned up even after I told him I would do it later. It said a lot about his character.
And my attraction toward him said a lot about mine.
I ran my hands over my face and deeply inhaled before releasing the breath. I couldn’t even use lack of sex as an excuse for my desire for Cason. I frequently met men for one-night stands, but something about Cason and his soft brown eyes drew me in like no other.
“Stop,” I told myself again.
Around nine, I heard the front door open and close, followed by the rumbling of an engine. Cason was leaving. I could breathe easier now. The temptation was out of my reach. I worked for another hour before leaving my office for food.
“Where’s Cas?” Ryan asked, shuffling into the kitchen with tousled dark hair and pink eyes. I knew a hangover when I saw one.
“He left about an hour ago. You want me to make you breakfast?”
“Nah,” Ryan said, curling his nose. “Can’t really handle food right now.”
I poured him a glass of water and handed him some Tylenol. “Take that for your head.”
“You don’t have to baby me,” he snapped before popping the pills into his mouth and downing half the glass.
No matter what I did, he stayed angry at me. If not angry, then irritated. It was a losing battle.
My phone vibrated on the counter, and I checked it. A text from my paralegal.
Becca: Remember, you have court at 9 Monday morning.
What was she doing texting me about work on a Saturday?
Me: Please tell me you aren’t working right now.
Becca: I’m not at the office. Don’t have a stroke. I just saw the date on my calendar and wanted to remind you.
Becca had been my paralegal for almost eight years, and though our relationship was professional while at the office, we had become friends over the years. She had a habit of going into the office on Saturdays when she felt behind on her work. I appreciated her dedication, but I wanted her to also have a life.
His Temptation Page 2
