“In a week and a half you’re getting the award of a lifetime, and I’m so proud of you I can barely see straight. But every time it comes up, you get a tortured look in your eyes. I don’t want to cause that conflict for you, so I don’t want you to worry about acting like you’re with me or not with me. I want you to relax and be proud of your accomplishment, because whether or not anyone else in the room knows you love me makes no difference. What matters is that you’re being honored for something you deserve, and I know you love me.”
“Tristan, the last thing I want to do is stand up and accept an award and act like you’re not the man I love. Saying you’ll support me no matter what is more than I ever hoped for, but it’s not what either of us wants. I hope you know that.”
“I do.”
“But we both know there’s a damn good chance I’ll become instasoldier again, and Lock down, shut up, and act straight, will roar through my head like it did for eight long years.”
“I know that, and I’m okay with it.” As I say this, I know it’s true. I really am okay with this concession. I’ve come a long way, and there’s a big difference between making a concession for someone I love and being disregarded out of disrespect.
He frames my face with his hands. His jaw is tight. My attempt at easing his anxiety obviously only made it worse. “But where does that leave me in the eyes of the only man I care about?”
“It leaves you exactly where you should be,” I tell him just as adamantly. “Accepting an award you deserve, being a proud soldier and a proud boyfriend, even if only in your heart.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Tristan
TUESDAY MORNING ALEX receives a phone call from Mr. Hinkley inviting him to speak at the Harborside Gallery Association meeting today at noon, the same time we’re supposed to meet Brody for lunch. He paces the living room, rubbing the back of his neck the way he does when he’s stressed, and arguing with me about going.
“I’m not going to miss meeting your brother after I’ve already committed,” he insists.
“Brody won’t mind. You’ll see him tonight at dinner with my parents. The association only meets every two months. This is the perfect time to go and get your name out there before the grand opening.”
“Tristan.” He glares at me. “It’s not about Brody minding; it’s about not letting you down.”
Alex has been trying so hard to do all the right things, but as much as I love him for it, I can’t let him miss this opportunity. After much convincing, my stubborn boyfriend finally agrees, and at noon my friends and I are sitting with Brody and his buddy Colby at a table in the back of the Taproom. Wyatt and Livi are working, which sucks, but at least Brody can still touch base with them. That’s the only hardship about working with friends. Someone’s always stuck waiting tables or bartending.
“Are you ever going to give your restaurant a name?” Brody asks Jesse. “I mean, come on. Brent and Jesse Steele. How about BJ’s? BJ Steele’s.”
“Sounds like a strip club,” Jesse says.
“What about just Steele’s?” Colby suggests.
“Steele Rod?” Brandon suggests.
Jesse shakes his head, and the rest of us laugh.
“What’s wrong with Steele Rod? It’s a surf and turf restaurant,” Brandon offers, though we all know what he was really thinking. “Hey, I could have said Cock and Balls.”
“Yeah,” Brody says. “I’m sure lots of people want to eat at a restaurant called Cock and Balls. Well, except my brother and you, the king of if they can stand up they can lie down. Mr. Indiscretion himself.”
“And proud of it,” Brandon quips.
Livi brings our lunch and sets a beer beside me.
“I didn’t order this.” I hand it back to her, and she pushes it away, lifting her eyes over my shoulder.
“I did.” Alex touches my shoulder, and my body ignites.
“What are you…?” I rise to my feet, equally confused and thrilled that he’s here.
He kisses my cheek. “This is what boyfriends do. We show up to meet your family. We care. We try. If you want me to leave, I w—”
“Stay, but what about the meeting?”
“I went over, introduced myself, and told them I had a prior commitment but that I’d be happy to meet with them another time. Mr. Hinkley’s going to try to schedule something in a week or two.”
“You didn’t have to do that.” But I’m so glad you did.
“I’m done doing what I have to do. I wanted to.” Alex takes control, as he does so well, and extends a hand to my brother.
“Alex Wells. You must be Brody. I can tell by the mass of dark hair and Brewer eyes.”
“Stop flirting with me. I’m straight,” Brody teases. “I’m glad you made it after all.” He nods to Colby. “This is my buddy Colby.”
Colby rises from his seat, and Alex’s eyes sweep over his tall, broad frame, taking in the tattoos running down his arm. Both men square their shoulders, and it’s like watching Alex at the clinic all over again. A curious flash of recognition passes between them.
Alex shakes Colby’s hand more stiffly than he did my brother’s. “Colby.”
Colby nods. “Alex.”
My friends’ faces mirror my confusion.
“You two know each other?” Brody asks.
“No,” Alex says sharply. “What branch?” he asks Colby.
“Navy,” Colby answers, his eyes moving between me and Alex. “You?”
Understanding comes with their rigid exchange, as silence falls around the table. How on earth did they recognize each other as military? It feels as though everyone is holding their breath, but I’m sure it’s just me. I’m waiting for Alex to disengage, readying myself for the sting of denial, and I wonder how he’s going to dismiss the kiss he just gave me and the comment from Brody.
Alex’s eyes remain trained on Colby as he drapes an arm over my shoulder, shocking the hell out of me, and says, “Army.”
“Loud and proud,” Brandon mumbles with a smirk.
Time stands still. The muscles in Alex’s jaw tighten. In my stunned silence, the magnitude of Alex’s actions hit me full force, and the walls of the Taproom feel like they’re closing in around us. I wanted this so desperately, and now that we’re here, standing in the midst of what I am sure is the most powerful moment of my life—and most excruciating for my lover—I realize how selfish I’ve been. It’s all I can do to remember to breathe in what feels like an agonizingly long pause as Colby, who has never had an issue with my sexuality, processes the sight before him combined with the knowledge of Alex’s military affiliation.
Alex’s hand tightens on my shoulder with an alarming amount of pressure. He’s not running, he’s not dismissing me, and he’s certainly not disengaging.
He’s not the one who ran away when things got tough. That was me.
He’s here and he’s not going anywhere, just like he promised.
“Cool,” Colby says casually, making me wonder if I’ve imagined his lengthy consideration. He pulls out the chair beside him and says, “Take a load off. I’ll buy you a beer.”
No matter how much I’d hoped for it, how much I believed in him, some part of me still worried he’d fail me.
As Alex guides me into the chair beside him, my mind begins to claw its way out of stunned silence, and I realize—I accept—that until this very second, I was incapable of truly believing he could give me what I needed. And at the expense of torturing himself, he’s given me more than I ever could have hoped for.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Alex
“I DON’T CARE what changed,” Tristan says as we stumble through my living room kissing. I push at his shirt, frantically tugging mine over my head, and work the buttons on our jeans.
“I care.” I press my hands to his face, holding his hungry stare. “I woke up, T. Fear has two faces.” God, he’s so beautiful, so trusting, I’m shaking. “I was an ass for taking so long to see the light and do the
right thing. Fear can paralyze or propel, and I’ve been standing on the wrong side for way too long.”
I kiss him hard as we both struggle to get out of our clothes. Our naked bodies slam together with the force of wrestlers battling for dominance as we fall against the bedroom door. Our teeth clank as we both take. I can’t get close enough. I feel like I’ve been lost at sea and finally found dry land. Like I need him to survive. Tristan claws at my back, rocking against me and bringing us both to near madness. His hands push into my hair, crashing his mouth to mine in another wild kiss. Words aren’t strong enough to express what I feel for him. When he moans into my mouth, I grab his ass, seeking his hole and teasing him as he grinds. We stumble to the bed, and I pin him down on his back and push his legs to his chest. He strokes his cock, watching me as I lower my mouth to his ass and slick my tongue from his hole to his sac and back again. He’s groaning and stroking and there is nothing hotter than this man giving himself over to me. I love him with my mouth, then lower his legs and lick the length of his eager, swollen cock.
“Alex, I need more.”
“So do I, baby. I need more of you.”
The words come straight from my heart, and as I roll us over, giving him the advantage, our eyes lock. As understanding dawns on him, his gaze turns to liquid fire. His hands travel down my sides and up my chest like streaks of lightning. He lowers his body to mine, aligning our swollen cocks. His outer thighs rub against the inside of mine, and he traps my hands beside my head. He slicks his tongue over my lips, and the air rushes from my lungs.
“There’s no going back from this,” he says in a fast, heated breath.
I feel his cock jerk against my stomach, and I want to feel it inside me. “I don’t ever want to go back, T. Not now, not ten years from now.”
A slow, secretive smile spreads across his face. “You have no idea how many times I’ve fantasized about fucking you.” He kisses my neck, laves his tongue along the ridge of my jaw, and I can’t suppress the needy noises slipping from my lungs.
“You’re shaking.”
“I have a hard cock against my stomach, and I want it in my ass,” I say sharply. “I’m shaking because you’re so fucking hot I can’t stand you torturing me.”
That grin spreads wider, and he rolls to the side. His eyes move lazily down my torso, over my cock, and he licks his lips. I feel every second of his piercing gaze like a stroke of heat. He grabs the lube from the nightstand with a wicked glint in his eyes, moving too damn slow.
“Fuck, T.” I reach for my cock and he grabs my wrist.
“Hands off.” He moves my hands above my head and wraps them around the wooden spokes of the headboard. “My turn.”
He settles his sexy body between my legs, sitting back on his heels, and roughly grabs me behind my knees, thrusting my legs apart and up, laying me open for the taking. He licks his lips again, and my cock jumps. When he lowers his mouth to my hole, my eyes roll back in my head. He licks and prods and thrusts his tongue inside me, then brings his fingers into play. When he pushes his finger inside me, I suck in a sharp breath.
“So tight, baby,” he says, and works his finger in and out. Releasing one of my legs, he wraps his hand around my cock and lowers his mouth to the crown, circling it with his tongue.
The world careens away as he fucks me with his finger and sucks my cock. I grip the headboard so tightly I fear it’ll snap. When my shaft falls from his mouth and his fingers withdraw from my ass, my eyes fly open.
“More,” I beg.
“Oh, you’re going to get more, baby. You won’t be able to sit for a week.”
He lubes up his fingers and returns them to my ass, working one in, then two, as he claims my mouth in another earth-shattering kiss. I love the strength and softness of his mouth, the scratch of his whiskers. He nips at my jaw, kisses his way down my chest, and sucks my nipple so hard I nearly lose it. He grazes his teeth over my flesh and my hips piston off the bed.
“More,” I demand, and feel him push a third thick finger into my ass, stretching me, loving me as he kisses his way south and takes me into his mouth again.
Need courses through me, desire builds, pressure mounts, and I can’t fight it for another second. I grab his head, moving him faster, fucking his mouth as hard as I want him to take me. Heat sears down my spine, gathers in my balls, and I’m powerless to stop the explosion as it shoots from my cock. He doesn’t slow, doesn’t retreat, as I come down his throat. My neck arches back with the intensity of my release. I’m panting, my head is spinning, and I’m lost in him. When I feel a whoosh of cold air over my cock and feel the weight of my lover come down over me, my brain snaps alive again. He kisses me so thoroughly there’s no escaping the taste of come on his lips. He’s fucking my mouth, claiming me, possessing me so completely, I get hard again in no time.
He rears up and lubes his cock, stroking it once, twice, and by the third stroke I want to bend him over the bed and pound into him. I fist my hands in the sheets, biding my time, anxious and excited for what’s to come. I’m so in love with him I ache for more. I don’t just want him to be my first. I want him to be my one and only.
Tristan comes down over me, propping himself up with one arm as he guides his slick heat to my entrance.
“I’ll go slow,” he assures me.
“I want everything you have to give.” I push a hand to the back of his neck and pull him closer, brushing my lips over his. “Take me, T. Make me yours.”
Tristan
I’VE FANTASIZED ABOUT this moment so many times I can barely breathe. I have to pause and take in the sight of the man I love, truly love, giving himself over to me. All of him laid bare for the taking and that riveting, plump mouth glistening from our kisses. He’s mine. His strong, rough hands clutch my hips, and his eyes turn volcanic as he pulls me down and his hips rise, his pelvis tilts, angling to accept me. The head of my cock pushes into his tight entrance, and his eyes close.
“Eyes open,” I demand, and he obeys. His eyes are so expressive, I don’t want to miss a second of seeing what he feels as we come together this way for the first time. I push past the tight rim of muscles and he grits his teeth, groaning with the force it takes to breach his virgin ass. My fear of hurting him is bigger than my need to claim him, and I freeze.
“Too much?”
“Never,” he grinds out through clenched teeth, and tugs me into a kiss, forcing his tongue into my mouth.
He’s taking control, forcing my brain cells to fail and my body to take over—and it works like a fucking charm. Everything fades except the feel of his hot, wicked mouth loving mine and the exquisite tightness swallowing my cock as I bury myself deep inside my lover. His hands begin driving our lovemaking, guiding our speed, and I allow him to, because that’s what we both need.
“Love you, T,” he pants out between kisses. “So fucking much.”
I’m right there with him, riding the wave of our passion, as heat consumes me from the inside out, annihilating every other experience from my memory, engraving this moment into my mind. There’s only the two of us, the feel of our slick, sweaty bodies sliding so perfectly in sync, the sound of our ragged breathing and the strength of his strong hands squeezing my hips.
He pulls back from the kiss, and the current between us changes. His hands travel up my sides and come to rest on my cheeks.
“You’ve become my whole life, baby,” he says in a heady voice, and pulls my mouth toward his again. “Let go for me.”
As his lips meet mine, I realize he’s giving me the reins, becoming completely, utterly mine, and that amplifies the energy between us. I push my hands under his back and cradle all his power against me, loving him with my strength, my rhythm. His body conforms to mine in a different way, like a surfer giving in to the strength of the sea. He follows my pace, and it’s magical. Blissful. Intense.
When I get close, I rear up, push his legs open wider, watching as his body accepts every inch of me. I keep up the pace as I take
his cock in my hand, stroking him to the same rhythm.
“Faster,” he demands.
I move my hips and my hand faster, unsure which he’s asking for and wanting this to be as mind-blowing for him as it is for me. As I near my release, I can’t concentrate on both, and he takes over stroking himself. It takes only a few eyefuls of his hand around his cock to send me over the edge. I fall forward, catching myself with one palm as he yanks up his rigid length, spilling his release over his chest.
Panting and sweaty, he rolls us onto our sides. His thigh rides up mine. His hand splays across my back, trapping me against him, the evidence of our love a hot, sticky mess sealing our bodies together, and we kiss like he’s going away to war.
When our lips part, he gazes into my eyes and I can see I was wrong.
He’s finally left the battlefield behind.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Alex
TRISTAN’S PARENTS’ HOUSE feels like a home should feel. Family and love fill every room. Their walls are covered with photographs of Tristan and Brody, mapping their lives from birth to sometime recent. Most families display only the happiest of moments. But the photographs on the Brewers’ walls include pictures of four- or five-year-old Tristan, red faced and teary eyed, knee deep in the ocean beside Brody, who’s beaming and holding Tristan up by his arm. There are pictures of the two boys as toddlers in the bathtub, and preteen Tristan, all knees and elbows, standing with his arm around Brody, both of them holding surfboards. Scattered among the photographs of the children are pictures of their parents—as a couple and with their sons. My favorite of all of the pictures hangs in the living room beside the doors to the deck. It’s only a five-by-seven, dwarfed by many larger frames, but it’s perfectly Tristan. He’s lying on the end of a boat with a thoughtful, happy gaze, as if he’s finally taking a break after a long day in the hot sun. His arms are crossed beneath his cheek, and a small smile curves his lips.
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