by Liz Crowe
He pushed her up so she was sitting. “Let’s see how this feels. Shift your hips.” When she was about to do it, to have his amazing girth inside her, he stopped. “Wait, shit.” He reached across to his bedside table and grabbed a condom. She decided to ignore how many rubbers were in there in favor of continuing along their current, pleasant trajectory.
She moved back on his thighs, opened the foil with her teeth and rolled the latex down his cock. “What does this thing feel like anyway?” she asked, more than a little fascinated by how huge he was even sheathed in rubber.
“Like I’m wearing a girdle. It sucks. But it’s necessary. I mean, I’m clean and I’m sure you are but I’ve done the parenthood thing enough already.” She smiled and moved forward, going up on her knees and sighing when he pressed against her. “I’ll go slow,” he whispered. She was shocked to feel tears against the back of her eyes. “Lean down here. Let me kiss you some more.”
She did, dropping forward so her hair formed a red curtain around their faces. He cupped her chin, then her neck, pulling her down and laying one of those amazing kisses that she could get addicted to on her. His slow, easy personality combined with the edgy energy made for the most amazing of all kissing techniques. Ryan was firm, in control, yet gentle, probing, and she rolled her hips so he slid into her one delectable inch at a time. He grabbed on to her, swept into her mouth with his tongue and thrust his hips just enough, making her cry out and break away when a surprising pain shot through her.
“Lynette,” he whispered against her cheek. “Relax. Let me in. It’s okay. I won’t hurt you, I promise.”
She angled her hips down, arching her back so he could reach her nipples and suck her flesh until her skin flushed and the orgasm crept up on her and smacked her upside the head, making her grip his entire length so hard he grunted.
“My turn on top.”
She nodded, moving, already feeling him between her legs, as if he were meant to be there. But no, he wasn’t. He loved Cole. But he was here now, fucking her so hard she thought her head would fly off.
She gripped the headboard, lifted her hips high, biting her lip and watching his face as his hips rolled and he moved in and out of her, setting his own rhythm.
“Faster,” she said, putting her hand to his face and wrapping her legs around his waist. “I can tell you want to go faster.”
“I don’t want to hurt you…oh, Jesus.”
She slid her hands around his neck and tugged him down so she could kiss him while he came. His body contracted, and his left leg look shook, just once, like a little spasm. She sighed when he pulled out and dropped to his side. She stayed still, legs bent, arms out at her sides. Her every nerve ending sang with happiness even while her brain clouded over.
She must have slept, because the next thing she remembered was hauling her ass out of bed and stumbling to the bathroom, the twin urges to pee and drink a gallon of water making her head pound. She leaned on the marble countertop and stared into her own bloodshot eyes.
Oh hell, Lynette, what have you done now?
“Lynette!” She jumped and grabbed a towel when she heard Jamie’s delighted voice. “You had a sleepover? Can you make pancakes? I’m hungry!” He took off at a full run down the hall toward the kitchen. She peered into the bedroom. Ryan was sprawled on his belly, his muscled ass and legs bare. His snores made the windows rattle.
She sighed. Fuck buddies seemed logical, useful and even fun on the surface. But when she found a pair of his shorts and a T-shirt to put over her nudity—remembering a second too late that her clothes were still on the kitchen floor—a little pinging sound started up in her brain. She touched his broad shoulders and shivered, remembering the drunken intensity of the night before. He rolled, put his arm over his eyes. She avoided looking down at him for a half second then shivered at the sight of his impressive erection. “Shit,” she muttered and got up, headed for the door.
“Hey,” he said from behind her, his voice rough. “Thanks.” She refused to glance back, anger at herself making her teeth ache.
“No, thank you. You were the master of the highest orgasmic order, I’ll grant you that.” She tried to be flippant. But something in her resisted this next scene, told her to get her clothes and get out. Jamie and his dad could come up with their own breakfast. She walked down the hall, noticed the little boy curled up on the couch with a book, found her clothes and threw them on, tossing Ryan’s into the laundry room. By the time she walked out of there, Ryan stood dressed in nothing but boxer shorts that were nicely tented. He smiled at her, held out a hand and she slid into his arms. The kiss was gentle, but her lips were raw from the night before. She moved away.
“I need to go home,” she said, wanting him to ask her to stay.
He turned to fiddle with the coffeemaker. She waited, willing him to say more. But when he didn’t, she grabbed her purse, gave Jamie a quick hug and empty promises to see him soon over his protests and ran to her car before she talked herself out of escaping.
She dropped her keys, cursed then climbed behind the wheel. Sitting for a minute trying to catch her breath, she let the slow reality of what she’d done seep into her bones. Her skin tingled. She was pleasantly sore between her legs. And her heart ached for the potential of a ruined relationship in advance.
Her mom was sitting in her usual spot on the couch, staring at reruns, when Lynette came in. “Where have you been, young lady?”
Lynette tossed her keys and purse on the small dining room table. “None of your business, Mom.” Her head and heart pounded from alcohol and stress. The last thing on the planet she needed was her mother nagging at her.
“I had no idea if you were alive or dead.”
Lynette turned slowly, crossing her arms over her chest. She wanted nothing more than an hour-long shower, a gallon of water and a three-hour nap. But she had a ton of work to do, assigning values to her new marketing graph system and squaring it with the point-of-sale computer they’d just set up in the pub. “Mom, I am twenty-seven years old. I don’t have to report in to you.”
“Don’t you take that tone with me, young lady. I’m your mother and I deserve respect.”
“Yeah, Mom. Sure. Fine. So here is what happened. I picked up Jamie Shannon, the five-year-old son of Ryan, who is part owner and head brewer where I work—remember? The brewery? Because I knew he was running late and we had a beer school session that night. So, we ate dinner together. I learned about beer. We drank too much. Then he fucked my brains out until we passed out. And now I need a shower. Okay?” She stomped away, leaving her mother open-mouthed with shock.
“Honey! You had a date! Congratulations!”
Lynette bit back a retort and slammed her bedroom door and leaned on it, useless, girlie tears slipping from her eyes before she willed them to stop. Resolute, she pulled her phone from her pocket and sent Ryan a text.
Thanks for the fun time, but we shouldn’t do that again. Okay?
She hit send before she lost her nerve.
* * * *
Ryan stood at the kitchen window and watched Lynette make a mad dash for the car. He groaned and looked down at the sink. Goddamn it, Shannon, you’ve scared her off. You and your fucking horny self went too far too fast and now what? No more friend. Jesus.
He swallowed hard, watching her struggle and curse and drop her keys. His gaze took in the pleasant curve of her jeans-covered ass. Now that he’d had a taste of that, he wanted more. He watched until her car had screeched down the quiet morning street, figuring out how he’d get back between her legs again when his phone rang.
It was Cole.
He ignored it and went to find Jamie. “Let’s go, pal. I’m taking us out to breakfast!”
“McDonald’s!” Jamie squealed.
“No, IHOP!” Ryan matched his tone.
“Yay! I love you, Daddy!” The boy bounced up and down on the couch. Ryan caught him in midjump and ran down the hallway with him, wondering just how much he’d screwed e
verything up with one, amazing, unforgettable night.
Chapter Sixteen
By the time he’d wrestled Jamie into clothes, Cole had called again so Ryan gave up ignoring him and hit redial.
“Hey, uh, sorry to bother you. I need to talk to you about something.” The other man’s voice was low, and it set off a cacophony of memory in Ryan’s slightly hungover brain.
Trying to shove the vision of Cole’s incredible physical presence out of his head, he grabbed his keys and opened the kitchen door so Jamie could run out to the car and climb up in his car seat. The whole thing with Lynette had him tied up in knots, even after the monster orgasm, which usually set him on an even keel for a day or two. “Sure. You okay? I mean…”
“Yeah, but Audrey isn’t.”
“The baby?” Ryan slid behind the wheel and started the car.
“Daddy! No talk and drive! Dangerous!” His son’s voice made the rapidly developing headache worse. The silence on the other end of the phone drifted on a while. Ryan sat, keeping the car in park.
“Sorry, I’m interrupting,” Cole finally said. “And the baby is fine, as far as I know.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re going out for breakfast, anyway.” His gut turned over at the thought of seeing Cole right now but knowing he had to do it. “Give me a few minutes.”
He made the trip from his house over to the southeast corner of Ann Arbor then sat in front of the house where he’d had his world rocked so hard, on so many levels. He tried to get up his nerve to get out, gripping the steering wheel. “Daddy. This isn’t IHOP” Jamie piped up helpfully after waking from a car ride–induced catnap.
“Yeah, I know, buddy. It’s a friend’s house. Can we go in a minute? I just need to talk to him about Uncle Quinn.”
“Okey-dokey,” the boy agreed.
Ryan hauled him out of the safety seat and set him on the sidewalk. Cole was on the porch, Brutus by his side. The sun slanted across the front of the house, catching the gold in the man’s hair. Ryan sucked in a breath at the sight of him, barefoot, dressed in dark jeans and a Marine Corps T-shirt that hugged his newly recovering muscles.
“Dog!” Jamie screeched after getting one look at the huge creature and racing up the sidewalk to the steps.
“Jamie! Stop!” Ryan ran after him, terror in his throat at the thought of Brutus’ potential reaction to the boy-shaped torpedo headed right for him.
But the dog sat, calm and still, letting Jamie practically climb up on his head, while he talked a mile a minute. Ryan stood a few steps down and watched. Cole seemed more nervous than the dog, flinching at one point when Jamie touched his hand.
“Hey, mister, can I walk your dog? I’m a good dog walker!”
Alarmed when the kid started climbing up Cole’s arm like the man were a jungle gym, Ryan started to speak. But Cole merely bent his elbow so Jamie could swing from it still patting Brutus’ head. “No, son. Brutus has to stay with Cole. That’s his job.”
“Why?”
Ryan recognized the stubborn edge that crept into his son’s voice and braced for a scene. Cole smiled then, and Ryan relaxed. Cole kept his arm bent, making Jamie giggle when he raised it and brought the kid to eye level with his own sightless ones. “He’s my eyes. I need him to help me see.”
To Ryan’s utter horror, Jamie reached out and snatched Cole’s Ray-Bans off. “No, don’t!” He grabbed the sunglasses and tried to hand them back to Cole. But the other man kept his smile fixed in place, and Ryan suddenly realized how flawless his face was even with the fading burn marks. It seemed odd that such a pair of striking, beautiful eyes would simply no longer do the work they were designed to do.
“It’s okay,” Cole said, palming the glasses. He hunkered down next to the dog, and Jamie dropped down beside him. He put a large hand on Brutus’ head, and Jamie mimicked him. “Hi, I’m Cole.”
Jamie grinned, making Ryan’s heart leap into his throat like it usually did at the sight of his son’s eager smile.
“You’re Jamie, I’m guessing.” The boy nodded, seemingly mesmerized by Cole’s face. “So, Jamie, the deal is, I’m blind. I got hurt in the war. Brutus is with me all the time, no matter what. And he helps me do what I need to do so I can—”
“What’s a war? Does he take baths with you?” Jamie interrupted, reaching out to put his small hand on the fading pink scars that streaked across Cole’s forehead. “Do you need some Band-Aids? We have some am-biotic cream in the car, don’t we, Daddy?”
Cole laughed. The sound was music to Ryan’s ears. In all their intense time together, he didn’t think he’d ever seen Cole smile or laugh without it being seductive or bitter. “No, I take showers. But he stands right outside the door, waiting until I get out. And I had a lot of Band-Aids once, but I don’t anymore. Thanks for offering, though. And I’ll let your dad explain about war another time.”
“Wow. He’s a really smart dog.” Jamie looked at the animal with renewed interest, crouching down and staring right into the Brutus’ eyes. “Can I walk him?” Brutus made a funny chuffing sound.
Ryan sighed and reached down to pull Jamie away. “Sorry. He’s a little single-minded sometimes.”
“Like his dad, I guess.” Cole got slowly to his feet, making Ryan swallow hard when the recent memory of his last night with Lynette filled his brain. “Tell you what, let me sit over here in the chair, your dad and I will talk and you can walk him down to the corner and back.”
“Really?” Jamie jumped around, until Ryan put a calming hand on his shoulder.
“You sure, Cole? He doesn’t have to. I know it’s important that he stay with you.”
“Nah, it’s okay. We have an understanding now. Hang on.” Cole turned and Brutus led him to a wicker chair. He sat, pulled the animal to him and seemed to have a whispered conversation while the dog looked at him with intense concentration. “Okay, Jamie. He’s all yours for a while.” Jamie squealed with delight and grabbed Brutus’ lead. The dog’s tail whipped back and forth, but he looked back at Cole as if asking, “You sure about this, boss?”
Seeming to sense the animal’s hesitation, Cole pointed, kept his voice firm. “Go. I’m fine.”
Then without another sound, Brutus let the small boy walk him down the steps and the sidewalk. “Amazing,” Ryan said, watching the animal that had fifty pounds on his son walk alongside him while Jamie chattered the poor animal’s ear off. He looked back at Cole and bit back the urge to touch him. “So, what’s this about Audrey?”
“It’s all this wedding stress. She’s drained and, when she was over here yesterday, crying for an hour over a fucking florist. My sister does not cry over flowers, Ryan. Are you getting any of this crap from Quinn?”
Ryan ran a hand down his face. “Uh. No. I mean, I assumed the woman did all the fretting and details. I don’t think Quinn’s mentioned anything about the wedding other than asking me for a couple of bartenders for the reception.”
“I figured.” Cole leaned forward, putting their knees within touching distance. “Can you tell him that he needs to step in and either take over some of it or tell her to stop stressing over stupid crap like what color ribbons to put on the bouquets? Seriously. I’m worried about her.”
Without thinking about it, Ryan reached over and put his hand over Cole’s clenched fingers. He heard the other man’s sudden intake of breath and his own heartbeat sped up at the contact. The sudden impact of what was about to happen to their odd relationship configuration hit him between the eyes. “Sure,” he said quietly. “I’ll talk to him. You look good. Feeling better?”
“Some, yeah. Working out again. Jake, my work partner, helps me with that.” He sat back, taking his hands out from under Ryan’s.
“Oh. Well, that’s good.” Ryan had a sudden vision of a giant, well-formed ‘partner’, doing what he wanted to do to Cole right now. He shoved it away. “I mean. You know.”
“He’s not fucking me, though. I know you want to ask.” Cole’s voice had taken on the fam
iliar hard edge Ryan remembered.
“None of my business,” Ryan insisted, clutching his knees.
“I’m afraid I might beat up another guy in my sleep, I guess.” Cole’s voice got softer.
“Lucky for him,” Ryan said, suddenly angry. “Okay, well, if that’s all, we should get going.” He stood, but Cole reached for his hand, stopping him.
“Sorry. I’m working on not being such a bitter asshole. Or so I’m told. I don’t know why I said that about Jake. It just sort of popped out.” He sighed, making Ryan’s head pound harder.
Cole leaned forward, resting his head against Ryan’s shoulder. The movement was not sexual in the slightest, totally unlike their previous encounters, but spoke of a connection Ryan wanted more than anything. Ryan allowed himself a split second of joy, touching Cole’s soft blond hair. It was a sublime moment of comfortable dependence, because Ryan wanted nothing more than to comfort.
He looked out and saw Jamie still man-handling the huge dog up and down the sidewalk. He kept stroking Cole’s hair while the other man leaned into him for a few quiet minutes more. A bright, crystal clear vision of the gorgeous redheaded woman who’d rocked his world the night before shot through his memory, making him shiver.
Cole moved away from him. Ryan grabbed both of his hands and turned so he was facing the other man. “Don’t cut me out of your life, okay? I know we had some intense moments but—”
“Well, we are going to be uncles to the same kid in a few months.” Cole smiled that sweet, somewhat innocent smile again, and Ryan’s heart leaped into his throat at the sight. “So I guess we—”
Ryan leaned in and touched his lips to Cole’s rough cheek, startling them both. “I want to be your friend, Cole, if you will let me. But that means not being flippant and bitter all the time. Let me in some. Let me know how you’re really feeling.”
Cole’s smile turned more ironic than Ryan cared to see. “Friends, eh?” Ryan held on to him when he tried to move out of reach.
