by L. A. Witt
“It’s not your fault.” His voice was soft, but just unsteady enough to make my heart hurt. “I don’t blame you. I’m just kind of, uh, overwhelmed.”
“Yeah, I get that. And my assistant and publicist are figuring out how to respond. They wanted me to talk to you first.”
“Respond? We… we have to respond?”
“Well, you don’t. Even if people start contacting you.” I paused. “Have they?”
“Don’t know yet. I’m still sifting through all the texts and emails from everyone I know.” He laughed dryly. “And I’m kind of scared to read the hundreds of tweets I’ve already gotten.”
I grimaced. “Shit.”
“It’s okay.” He sounded exhausted. “I knew this was a possibility. And… it doesn’t change anything, does it? With us?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing.”
“Not on my end. I still want to see you again.” He paused, then added with a nervous laugh, “Sooner than later, still.”
That brought a smile to my lips. “Me too. And I’m good at staying below the radar.” I glanced around me, and so far no one had noticed me. Or at least if they did, they weren’t making a big deal out of it. “I’ll work something out so no one gets another lucky shot like that. If we want to go public later, we can, but we’ll have privacy next time. I promise.”
“Okay.” He exhaled. “That sounds great.”
Relief was making my knees shake. I wasn’t sure exactly what I’d expected when I’d called him, but knowing he still wanted to see me was a huge relief. “For the record, if my publicist denies we’re seeing each other—or if I do—it doesn’t mean I’m embarrassed of you. Or that I don’t—”
“I know. I’d rather deny it for right now too. I mean, I’d love to shout it from the rooftops that we’re… that the rumors aren’t exactly untrue, but… maybe not quite yet?”
“Agreed,” I whispered. “For now, let’s keep it on the DL, and work on getting together again.”
“Sounds perfect. Okay, I have to go. I’ve got patients waiting.”
“Okay. I’ll see you soon.”
“As soon as possible.” The smile in his voice sent a tingle through me. The first truly pleasant feeling I’d had since the initial text from Vanessa.
“Definitely,” I whispered.
After he’d hung up, I stayed against the wall for a moment to collect myself. We were still all right. He was probably rattled and no doubt feeling violated as fuck by the article, but at least for the time being, he still wanted to see me. I still needed to see him.
I took and released a deep breath.
Vanessa, Rachael, and I would handle the press. I’d work out a plan so Brian could come to LA without anyone noticing. I’d see him again, and no one but us would know.
We’ve got this. We can do this.
Still uneasy but way less panicked, I gathered my luggage and headed for the check-in line.
~*~
In the cell phone lot outside the San Diego airport, I tapped my fingers on the center console. Whenever someone walked by, I surreptitiously lowered my gaze, letting the brim of my baseball cap shade my face. That was usually way too conspicuous, all but announcing to everyone that I was trying not to be seen, but right now, anything was better than nothing.
At least it was dark out; Brian’s flight didn’t come in until 9:30, so we wouldn’t be meeting up in broad daylight. Plus no one would really expect us to be meeting here. We’d never get in or out of LAX without someone noticing. Even the smaller airports in the area had the occasional paparazzo lurking outside, not to mention tourists on the lookout for celebrities. San Diego gave us better odds of slipping away unseen.
I checked the clock on the dash again. Two minutes since the last time I’d checked. He’d be on the ground in the next fifteen minutes, and if that plane was two seconds late, I would probably lose my mind. I was more nervous than when I’d gone to see him. When that weekend had been a giant question mark, and I’d had no idea we’d wind up connecting the way we had.
By all rights, I should have been way more chill this time, but the stupid articles—because of course there’d been more than one—had me on edge. Even after we’d talked almost daily, after we’d Skyped and Facetimed and texted and chatted, I was worried. He’d insisted he still wanted to do this, and he’d get used to the media attention. If anyone caught wind of us again, and saw past the statement my publicist had released, he’d be ready. He could handle it.
But what if you can’t?
What if I’m not worth having to tolerate that shit?
I’d somehow convinced myself that I’d feel better once I saw him in person. Once we’d touched again, and everything was still the way it was two weeks ago, I’d be able to breathe.
Now if that goddamned plane would just land already…
I closed my eyes and wiped a hand over my face. The press had mostly backed off. Rachael had released a bland statement to the effect of Mr. Stewart and Mr. Jacobsen have recently become friends, but rumors of them being romantically involved are false. She’d written off the incriminating photo with the God’s honest truth—that Brian hadn’t been kissing me at all, and it was just a lucky camera angle. Whether or not people had actually bought it was anyone’s guess, but things had been quiet. I’d done a handful of phone interviews this past week about my last movie, and only two had mentioned the rumors about Brian. When I’d laughed them off as people seeing what they wanted to see and reminded them that men—even gay men—could just be friends, they’d let it drop.
Still, we couldn’t be too careful.
My phone chirped with a text, and I snatched it off the dash.
Wheels down. Be there soon.
My heart went crazy, and if not for autocorrect, my shaky thumbs would’ve botched the hell out of LMK when you’re off the plane.
About five nerve-racking minutes later, he messaged me again. I waited a couple more to give him some time to get across the airport, then started the car and headed for Arrivals.
And as I slowed to a stop between a couple of cabs on the curb… there he was.
Brian smiled when he saw me, and it was like all that worry from the last two weeks just vanished. In an instant, we were back to the way we’d been in his kitchen before we’d left and before we’d known about the article. He wasn’t even in the car yet and I already felt better.
He’d only brought a small carry-on suitcase and a backpack, so he put them in the backseat before getting in the passenger seat. “Hey. It’s good to see you.”
“You too.” I met his gaze, and wished like hell we could get away with a kiss out here. Since I didn’t dare—I was too high-profile and we were both men—I settled for giving his hand a squeeze.
Brian flashed me a grin, and as he put on his seatbelt, I pulled away from the curb.
“Traffic’s pretty light right now,” I said. “By California standards, anyway. We should be at my place in a couple of hours.”
“Fine by me. I’m just glad I’m finally here.”
“Me too.” I glanced at him as I drove us out of the airport. “I’ve, uh, been a little worried the last couple of weeks.”
“How so?”
“The articles, mostly.” I swallowed. “I was afraid they’d be too much for you.”
Brian was quiet for a moment. “They’re a lot to process, but not enough to keep me from wanting to see you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” He reached across the console and put his hand on my thigh. “That weekend we spent together was amazing. Every day since then, I’ve looked forward to this. Hell, I look forward to getting texts from you and chatting with you. It’ll take more than some gossipy tabloids to chase me off.”
Something settled in my chest, and as I exhaled, my hands loosened their death grip on the wheel. I put one on top of his hand and rubbed my thumb along his. “Okay. Good. I was just worried, I guess.”
“I know.” He turned his han
d over to clasp our fingers together. “And… you really think we’ll be able to stay off the radar?”
That made me grin. “Trust me. The only time anyone ever notices me out on the road is when I take out the sports car. This thing?” I nodded at the wheel. “No one gives a beat-up Camry a second look in LA.”
“Yeah, they probably don’t.”
“Anyway, I made sure my kitchen is completely stocked so we don’t have to leave at all unless we want to. And if we do, I know a few places that pretty much live and die by their reputations for letting people in discreetly.”
“Yeah?”
“Mm-hmm. There’s a steakhouse out in Sherman Oaks that looks like a shithole from the outside, but is absolutely amazing. I guess the owner’s daughter is some A-list musician—no one actually knows who she is—and he’ll let people in through the back. Doesn’t allow any kind of photography.”
“Nice,” Brian said with a nod. “That could be worth it one night. I’m happy to stay in, too.”
“Good. I’ll make sure you don’t get bored.”
Brian’s fingers twitched subtly in mine. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”
“No. Probably not.” I grinned at him again. “You like hot tubs?”
“I do. Especially if there’s a no swimsuit policy.”
“Well.” I stroked his hand with my thumb. “I guess you’re in luck.”
Chapter 22
Brian
The long drive didn’t bother me in the slightest. Even after being on a plane for a couple of hours, I was more than happy to sit in the car if it meant being next to Adam. The last two weeks had felt more like two years, and I was finally here. I could wait until we were behind closed doors to kiss him and really touch him. This—just being in the same car and talking about whatever—was all I needed right now.
For some reason, I’d imagined Adam’s place being a condo in West Hollywood or some huge, fancy place in Beverly Hills. I’d seen bits and pieces of it in the background when we’d Skyped or Facetimed, but there’d been nothing to really show the size or style of it.
To my surprise, he drove us all the way out to Topanga and up into the hills, along roads that were dark and quiet, especially for something this close to Los Angeles. My ears popped a few times, so we must have been high up in the canyon. After a while, he slowed down and pulled into the narrow, curving driveway of a small, single-story house. He parked in the garage, sliding his modest Camry in beside the flashier yellow Maserati.
“Okay.” He shut off the engine and turned to me as the garage door came down behind us. “We’re here.”
Excitement fluttered in my chest, especially when the door stopped with an emphatic click. We were here. Behind closed doors. With no one around to give two shits about us.
“Yeah.” I unbuckled my seatbelt and leaned toward him. “We’re here.”
He grinned, and just like that we were kissing. The console bit into my side and we were still too far apart, but to hell with it—I had Adam’s lips against mine and his fingers in my hair. Those two weeks apart seemed even longer now. Like that weekend had happened clear back when we’d met at the diner, and I’d been waiting five years to touch him like this again.
Out of breath already, I broke the kiss and went for his neck. He gasped sharply, kneading my scalp, and slurred, “We should… we should go inside. I could give you a tour.”
“Don’t want a tour,” I panted. “I just want to get you naked.”
“Mmm. Bedroom is the first stop on the tour.”
I lifted my head. “Well, when you put it like that…”
Adam licked his lips. “Inside?”
“Definitely.”
I had the presence of mind to grab my luggage while Adam unlocked the door, and we hurried from the garage into the hallway. In the bedroom, I put my bag and suitcase down, wrapped my arms around Adam, and picked up where we’d left off in the car. This time, though, we didn’t have the stupid console in the way. Clothes, yes, but not a mile-wide chunk of plastic.
“I missed you,” he said between kisses. “God, Brian…”
“Missed you too.” I started on his neck again because I knew how much he loved that and because I loved feeling his beard against my lips and cheek. “Much as I keep thinking about you, I’m going to wear out my right arm.”
Adam laughed, dragging his fingers through my hair. “Same.”
The thought of him jerking off while imagining us together was hot. Maybe we’d have to heat up our Facetime sessions a bit.
I groaned softly, pressing against him as I let my teeth graze his neck and my head spun with arousal. I’d had plenty of sex before him, but damn if anyone had ever turned me on like he did. We hadn’t even taken our clothes off yet, and he had me higher than when I was about to come with someone else. How the hell did he do that? Who cared? I loved how I felt when I was tangled up with him. How his kiss drove me wild and his hungry, passionate touches made me shake with need. “God, I want you so bad.”
“I’m all yours.” He slid his hands down my sides and onto my ass. “And I want you to fuck me like you did last time.”
The words pushed all the air out of my lungs. I met his gaze, and the gleam in his eyes told me he was absolutely serious. “Do you?”
Adam nodded, licking his lips. “Toys just… aren’t getting the job done anymore.” As if that mental image of him masturbating needed to be any hotter.
I was out of words, so I did the next best thing—slid my hands under his shirt and pushed it off. Once that was out of the way, the rest of our clothes quickly followed, and when Adam pulled me down onto his bed, we were both completely naked. He parted his thighs to let my hips settle between them, snaked his arms around me, and we kissed hungrily. Breathlessly.
“Want it…” He gasped for breath. “Want it just like this.”
“Mmm, yeah?”
“Yeah.” He squeezed my hips with his thighs. “Please.” The desperation in his voice made my skin prickle with goose bumps.
I kissed him quickly. “Let me get the condoms. They’re in my—”
“Got some right here.” He nodded toward the nightstand. When I turned, there was an unopened box of condoms and a mostly full bottle of lube.
I grinned down at him. “Totally prepared. I like it.”
He chuckled. “Uh-huh. So how about putting those on? Like now?”
“Hmm, someone’s getting demanding.” I kissed him again, harder this time, and he whimpered with what sounded like both pleasure and frustration. As if he liked the kiss, but was still impatient for me to fuck him. Perfect.
I dipped my head to kiss his neck again, and he arched under me with a throaty moan.
“I’m going to fuck you,” I breathed, and paused to nip his collarbone. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t tease you.”
He whimpered. “Brian. Please. God.” He raked his nails up my back, making me rear up with a gasp and a shiver. “I’ve been dying for you to do that again since the first time. Don’t make me wait.”
Well, damn. Who was I to say no to a man who wanted my cock this badly?
Wordlessly, I reached for the condoms and lube. It took some fumbling—when the hell had my hands started shaking?—but I got the condom on. With a little more clumsiness, I had some lube on my fingers, and I leaned down to kiss Adam as I teased his hole with slick fingertips.
And dear God, I was glad I was kissing him in that moment, or I might have missed that nearly soundless moan as my fingers slid into him. Or the ragged breath he released when I pushed them deeper.
He took my fingers easily. He was tight, but he didn’t resist like most inexperienced bottoms I’d been with. I had to remind myself he wasn’t completely inexperienced; sure, we’d only done this once before, but he’d done plenty on his own. He knew what he could handle, knew how to relax so it didn’t hurt, and he apparently trusted me enough that relaxing that much came easy.
“Please,” he whispered again. “I
want you.”
I kissed him as I fucked him with my fingers. “Just want to make sure you’re ready for me.”
He groaned, squirming under me. “Please…”
Holy fuck, the way he begged for it turned me on so much, I was half-tempted to keep teasing him all night just to watch him unravel. Only half-tempted, though—I couldn’t wait any longer myself.
I withdrew my fingers and sat up on my knees between his thighs. “Might be more comfortable with a pillow under you.”
He put one under his hips and gazed up at me, eyes heavy-lidded and full of lust. Fuck. What a sight. None of those magazine spreads he’d ever done—not even the ones in his underwear—could hold a candle to this. He was still obviously the same man who’d been in those mouthwatering images. The trademark beard, the gorgeous six-pack, the spiked hair, the full lips—yeah, this was definitely him. But no picture that I’d ever seen had captured all that want and need in his beautiful eyes. He never looked at a camera the way he was looking at me right then, and there was no way in hell I could tease him anymore because I had to have him right goddamned now.
I rested my weight on one hand, and with the other, guided myself in.
As I pressed the head of my cock against him, Adam arched, squeezing his eyes shut and swearing softly.
“This okay?” Jesus—I was out of breath already.
“Y-yeah.” He licked his lips. “More.”
In my mind, I was already balls deep inside him, riding him hard and watching him fall apart, but in reality, I stayed in control and moved slowly. He was so, so tight, and I didn’t want to hurt him, but judging by his moans and gasps, I wasn’t hurting him as, little by little, my cock sank deeper.
“Oh God…” I stared down at him. At his beautiful body, and at my cock sliding inside him. This couldn’t be real, could it? I’d imagined everything over the last couple of weeks, and there was no way in hell I was really working myself into this unbelievably hot man while he murmured little pleas for more.
When I’d finally bottomed out, when my hips were pressed flush against his ass, I stopped moving and leaned down to kiss him. Adam lifted his head to meet me halfway and suddenly it felt so real. I was buried in him, kissing him, and somehow I hadn’t fallen to pieces from the sheer intensity of it all.
