Beautiful Temptation (So This is Christmas Book 2)

by Christina Lee

  “Had you planned on getting a tree or anything?” Blair asked absently, staring at the decorations on a couple of houses. “I mean, if you stay until Christmas?”

  “Hell no. I’d rather not think about any of that and let it all pass right on by me,” I replied, not mincing words.

  “Cool.” He blew out a breath. “Same.”

  So we were still of one mind, and why that surprised me so much, I had yet to unpack. Guess he wasn’t planning on leaving either, and somehow the idea of that settled contentedly in my stomach. My, had things changed in only a matter of days. Initially, I thought I needed to be completely alone out here, but maybe I simply needed to be away from all the other noise in my life.

  We parked and walked across the pier to the restaurant, which was only half-full. We sat at a table against the window, and once we placed our orders, I took in the view, which featured plenty of elegant egrets with their long legs and black beaks. We were quiet while we waited for our food, but it was a comfortable silence, and one I appreciated, given our copious confessions the day before.

  Once our food was served, I dived in with gusto, realizing how famished I was. “Their burgers are good,” I said, wiping my mouth after a large bite.

  Blair was picking at his fries, having only taken one bite of his fish-and-chips meal. But I wasn’t about to say anything. He’d admitted he’d had eating issues in the past and that even now some stuff affected him. But as a whole, I’d seen him eat, so he was getting some amount of sustenance. He was also getting more than his fair share of sleep. Despite that, he still looked beat. A snarky comment hung off my lips, but I refrained.

  “What?” he asked in a grouchy tone. It was unusual for him, unless it was accompanied by humorous banter, and I wondered if he was feeling off from sleeping his day away.

  “Nothing. I just noticed… Never mind.” Right then the server came around to clear our table. I lifted my bottle, took a swig of my beer, and stared out at the water. It really was pretty here.

  “It definitely doesn’t feel like Christmas without the snow, but it’s festive enough, not that I care. That was the whole point,” Blair said, and crunched on some ice from his soda. “Last year I met my friend Finn at a ski resort, and that was just cold and miserable, except inside by the fire, of course.”

  I smirked. “Of course. But skiing is cool. I could be doing that for Christmas,” I said, thinking about what my family would be up to soon enough.

  “Instead, you’re alone in a beach house, pretending the holiday isn’t happening.”

  “With some blabbermouth from my childhood,” I added. “But I’m gonna catch that hockey game tomorrow night, remember? So I’ll be doing something, at least.”

  “Oh yeah, I almost forgot you needed your sports fix,” he said, staring down at his phone, maybe noting the date. Five days before Christmas Eve.

  “Wanna tag along?” I offered, knowing I’d be turned down flat. “Just to get out and do something? You don’t even have to know what’s going on in the game.”

  “Hell no,” he replied, and then suddenly it was like a light bulb went off over his head. “Actually, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll go to the game with you if you go to a club with me afterward.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “What kind of club?”

  “A gay club,” he said, lifting his phone. “I heard about this one in Longboat Key and thought it might be fun.”

  “Crawling out of your skin already, Mr. Party Animal?”

  “Are you admitting you’re opposed to a gay bar, Mr. Vanilla?” he countered, and that fueled something inside me. Damn. That easily, he was back to pushing my buttons.

  “What the hell? You think I’ve never gone to a gay bar or hooked up in one?” His eyebrows shot up at that revelation. Gotcha, you fucker. “I’ll prove you wrong. I know how to party just fine.”

  “Well, then, I guess we’re all set? I’ll suffer through some kind of sporting event—”

  “Hockey. It’s hockey. With a puck and sticks.”

  “Big sticks?”

  “Ugh, you’re insufferable.”

  “Oh, I’ll show you insufferable,” he quipped. “And then I’ll show you what real sticks look like…at the club, dirty bird.”

  I lifted my hands. “You’re the one who turned it dirty.”

  What the hell had I just agreed to? Although I wouldn’t mind hanging out away from the beach house for one night. Plus, wasn’t that exactly what I wanted? To explore my sexuality? Spending more time at a gay club might help.

  Blair sighed. “I’m just looking for a night of fun where nobody knows my name and I don’t have to pretend with anyone.”

  “Pretend? I thought you—”

  “It’s hard to explain. Just trust me.”

  “Why don’t you try?” I said.

  He reached for his wallet to pay for the check, claiming I paid for groceries—guess he had a point—then replied, “It’s just…my image. I get tired of keeping up appearances, is all.”

  We stood and walked outside to a clear sky and chilly night air. He pulled out his phone and snapped a selfie on the wooden deck, probably with the intention of putting it up on Instagram.

  I raised an eyebrow, and he said he was going to text it to Finn to prove he was okay. Sure sounded like people were worried about him, or more than likely thought it was odd for him to want time alone.

  When we got back to the house, Blair requested we watch the rest of the German show we’d started a couple of evenings ago. But once we got cozy on the couch, sharing the same blanket, he zonked out, his head bobbing until it found purchase on my shoulder. And just like the night before, I didn’t move him and couldn’t explain why. Maybe because he looked so sweet, felt warm, and I didn’t feel quite so alone.

  9

  Blair

  As the game moved into the third quarter or inning or whatever the hell it was—period, that was what Caden called it—I wondered why I thought this was a good idea. I was bored out of my fucking skull, with the exception of checking out all the testosterone-fueled dudes slamming into each other with their sticks. Now that was something I could definitely get in front of—pun intended. Caden was more than gracious, trying to point out stuff about goals and the penalty box, so at least I could pretend I knew something.

  “What do you enjoy about sports?” I asked while I sipped on a warm beer. I was absolutely not a fan, but I figured it was better to have alcohol in my system if I had to put up with this dull shit.

  “The camaraderie,” Caden replied almost instantly. “The thrill of the game. Especially when it comes down to last-minute plays where everything banks on one shot, one basket, or one Hail Mary bomb into the end zone. Everything can flip and change in the blink of an eye. It’s exhilarating.”

  I tried to think of what might compare in my world but had trouble coming up with anything. Maybe walking the runway might be somewhat of a parallel. Like if everything lined up right, it could be a kickass show and the crowd would be buzzing with excitement afterward. But if the order got screwed up, or someone tripped, or went out late, then the energy could change. Maybe that was what he meant.

  I must’ve zoned out because suddenly everyone was standing up and collectively holding their breath. I pushed to my feet and saw a player standing alone with a singular shot at the goal. The only thing between him and the net was the guy with all the padding—the goalie, I assumed. And as I watched intently, I actually got a little thrill when he made it in and the stands erupted with cheers. I felt momentarily bummed for the other guy, but I thought I understood better now what Caden was trying to explain about sports. Sort of.

  When the buzzer went off, there was an intermission, and I noted it was the second one in a couple of hours. Strange. Honestly, I’d rather get the damned game over with already and not prolong the torture.

  “Do we want to get anything?” Caden asked, standing up and stretching. “Another beer?”

  “Beer makes me feel bloated
.” I set my cup down. “So no, thanks.”

  “I hear you,” he replied, then turned toward the aisle. “I’m gonna use the restroom.”

  “Cool.” I checked social media on my phone and almost took a photo to send to Finn and Harry in London, because no way would they believe me otherwise. But then I’d have to explain about Caden, and though I already told Finn about the mix-up, that was all I was willing to disclose—which was so not like me. Go figure. I supposed in a way, I was respecting Caden’s privacy.

  When he returned, I pointed out some goofy kid with his face painted, and that got us talking about a memory from childhood when we were bored and his mom encouraged us to make T-shirts with puffy paint. I’d decided to add glitter—because of course—and they’d found the shiny shit in their house for weeks after. His mom was too polite to say anything, but after I left, his dad apparently grumbled that it was everywhere.

  I heard laughing, looked around the stands, and noticed everyone was buzzing about something. The person beside us pointed at the big screen, which featured a kiss cam. I’d seen those before on YouTube and nearly rolled my eyes. Whoever was running it, panned the audience, stopped on a supposed couple—or not—and the people would kiss. One pair didn’t even look like a couple, possibly just friends, but they played along anyway. Stupid. I bet they would never consider doing it without— And then suddenly my face was on the screen alongside Caden’s, and a hush fell over the audience in our section. No they didn’t!

  “For fuck’s sake,” Caden said under his breath.

  I shrugged, leaned over, and quickly kissed his cheek. “There. That should get the focus off us, Mr. Vanilla.”

  But it didn’t go as planned. The crowd started chanting something that sounded like kiss, kiss, kiss, and that was when I wished I could be swallowed up by a hole in the floor because what the fuck, sports people? If I had been there with anyone else, I wouldn’t have cared, but Caden wasn’t even out or up for this kind of bullshit.

  “Ah, fuck it,” Caden announced, and my brain had little chance to catch up as he threw his arm and leg over me in an exaggerated fashion and planted his lips on mine.

  And fuck if I didn’t freeze on the spot. I knew he was egging it on for the camera, and it probably looked funny to the audience. But his fucking lips were against mine, and they were warm and soft, and his breath smelled like mint and beer, and my brain felt like it was melting.

  It lasted a long moment, and then his warmth was gone as if I’d only imagined it.

  And everyone around us was cheering and laughing.

  “What the hell, dude?” I pretended to wipe off his saliva from my lips for the camera until kiss-cam dude finally moved on to somebody else.

  “Not so vanilla anymore, am I?” he countered, his cheeks so bright, it was as if someone had slapped him.

  “Is that why you played along?” I asked, looking around us, trying to figure out if there was going to be an angry mob or something because two guys just kissed. But nobody seemed to pay us any attention.

  “Dunno. Try not to make a big deal about it, okay, Mr. Free Spirit? Just move on.” He slunk down in his seat, his words not matching his actions. “Besides, I thought you could use a little something to spice up your evening, being stuck at a game with me like this.”

  “I’m the one who suggested it,” I replied. “And it’s not so bad being here.”

  A small smile lined his lips until he got lost in the game again, but my brain was stuck on that kiss. I couldn’t help thinking about how his lips felt against mine. And now he could barely make eye contact with me as the gravity of it settled in—unless it was my imagination.

  It was brave of him, definitely.

  “That was cute.” The lady in front of us twisted around with a knowing smile. “Are you guys together?”

  “No way,” we both replied at the same time, and all three of us cracked up.

  “Way to make the evening more interesting, Vanilla,” I muttered as the lady turned to watch the final minutes of the game.

  “Anytime, Diva. And don’t worry, these games rarely get televised. Not unless it’s a slow night for sports.”

  I wanted to point out it was a holiday week, so it probably was a slow night, but I held my tongue. He’d obviously considered the facts before pulling that stunt. Or maybe he threw caution to the wind and said to hell with it.

  I decided I liked this side of Caden—the guy who was up for anything. It reminded me of our dares when we were little. Damn, I had forgotten that. How he would do practically anything we dared him to, most likely because he had something to prove. That one time he jumped in the neighbor’s pool at night, I knew he had gumption. But he sure seemed to change later on when sports became his life. Or maybe it was me who changed. Or maybe we had both shut each other out for different reasons.

  “How come you ignored me in high school?” I asked out of the blue. I grabbed his beer and took a sip, as if it would taste better from his cup.

  He didn’t bat an eyelash. After all, we had just swapped spit. Well, sort of.

  “What do you mean?” And now I couldn’t stop looking at his mouth, imagining what it would be like to have a real kiss, tongue and all.

  No. Bad thoughts. Bad. This was my best friend’s brother. Don’t be stupid.

  Also, he was newly out, and someone like me would totally corrupt someone like him.

  Fuck, what would that feel like?

  “I think you know what I’m asking.” I coughed from the bitter taste and handed him his cup back.

  “Some of the guys said…um, talked shit about you,” he said with heated cheeks.

  “Like what?” Though I already knew.

  “Said you would service them if they were desperate enough, and I…I didn’t know how to respond.” His cheeks flushed red again. “Sometimes I’d tell them to cut it out, but they ignored me. After a while, I felt ashamed that I stopped defending you.”

  I stared at him a moment, thinking back to our awkward teen selves. “They weren’t wrong.”

  He gasped, then covered his mouth with his hand. He stared intently at me, and I arched an eyebrow. He said, “Do I want to know? No, I don’t think I do. I… What the hell?”

  I shrugged. “It’s hard to come out in high school, and it’s frowned upon to experiment. Unfortunately. I think kids would figure themselves out a whole lot faster if we encouraged them to just be themselves.”

  “Might’ve helped me, huh?”

  “Dunno, maybe. But everyone has their own timeline. It’s all cool as long as you can work out how to embrace it.” We sat silent for a minute. “On that note, you still up for going to the club? It’s okay if you changed your mind.”

  The stands started clearing, which was my only indication that the game had ended. Caden stood up with his empty cup, and I reached for mine on the floor.

  “I’m not a quitter.”

  “I never said—”

  “Get your butt up, and let’s go,” he said with a wink over his shoulder.

  10

  Caden

  We were headed to some gay club in Longboat Key, which took us a good forty-five minutes with traffic, but that was okay; it was giving me time to think.

  What in the hell happened back there? I let myself roll with it, and it had actually been heady kissing a guy. I’d stunned Blair, which wasn’t easy to do, and found I liked surprising him. Nope, not unpacking that one yet. Sure, it was strange to put my mouth against his—my brother’s best friend—but it also felt exhilarating.

  It wasn’t a big deal. Blair had fucked men around the globe, so one kiss on a kiss cam wasn’t going to register for him, even if he did look a bit shell-shocked.

  Most likely, he was worried about corrupting me or some bullshit. Instead, I wished I’d had more opportunity—and guts—to experiment, thank you very much.

  We found a space to park on the street and only briefly stood in line to get past the bouncer. It seemed less crowded than it cou
ld’ve been, likely due to the holiday. Once inside, the thumping music and strobe lights were sensory overload, so a trip to the bar seemed a great idea. I’d never been into dance clubs, but when I noticed how Blair instantly perked up, I smirked and shook my head. This was certainly more his style.

  We ordered our drinks, and he tried to pull me toward the center disco ball, but I begged off with the excuse that I needed liquid courage. So he went out by himself, which made me feel momentarily guilty until I saw his moves. Damn, he was so graceful and fluid, much as he was on the runway—the little I saw on social media. But no doubt about it, he was beautiful. There. I admitted it. I always buried my attraction to him because he annoyed the shit out of me, or at least I told myself he did. But this week with him was proving me wrong.

  As I watched him bump and grind with different partners, it made me wonder what kind of show he’d put on during sex. Was he wild in bed or reserved? Damn, where had that come from?

  I groaned as the music changed to holiday rock shit. The lights twinkled on the walls, and for the first time I noticed a large Christmas tree in the corner of the room. Bah humbug.

  After a few more songs, Blair wiped his brow, already looking pretty spent. He was on his way back to the bar when I was approached by a gorgeous black guy with pronounced cheekbones and linebacker shoulders, who asked me to dance. Blair cocked an eyebrow as if daring me to go for it. But I also noticed trepidation in his eyes, like maybe he was unsure of pushing me too hard. It set my teeth on edge because this wasn’t my first rodeo. I’d met a couple of guys at bars over the last few months, even if I did hook up only once. Though I’d never allowed myself to linger for long, so I supposed this was sort of new for me.

  “Oh, sorry. Are you together?” the man asked, backing away.