His hand reached up to grip my neck as his eyes searched mine, for what I didn’t know—maybe some sort of permission to let go since I’d edged him mercilessly in the past. It was like he needed it—needed to hear me say it and I loved this side of him in the bedroom.
“Show me,” I whispered against his lips.
He sighed before batting my hand away and began stroking his own cock. My knuckles roamed over his chest, brushing over his hardened nipples as he hissed up at me. My hands gripped the back of his knees as I drove him hard.
Feeling his hole stretch around my cock felt fucking perfect.
Slowing down I bent my head, kissing the fleshy part of his thigh and then biting his skin to leave a mark I hoped stayed with him until next week. A groan ripped from his throat as a vivid flush rose from his chest to his cheeks and he shuddered, coming apart at the seams. Panting openly, his eyes rolled back, his hole squeezing my cock like a tight glove.
Hot jizz spurted between us as I felt the familiar tingle in my spine and my balls drew up tight. It was as if hot lava scorched through all of my nerve endings as the room whited out and I shattered, pumping all of my seed inside of him.
I collapsed to the mattress, my neck on fire, sweat dripping from my forehead, my pulse beating frantically in my veins. Our hands groping, searching, I entwined our fingers over his head and kissed him with all that I had, our tongues sliding together again and again as our breaths finally evened out.
We lay pasted together, sticky come between us, lips brushing lazily as the harsh world came crashing back down around us.
Thank you, I wanted to say.
Thank you for giving me this.
And as our gazes met and held, I knew with razor sharp certainty I had already fallen for him and that life would slap me hard in the face in a few hours’ time. I had just shared something with Brin that I never had with anybody else—certainly never like that, and even after he left tomorrow and we went our separate ways, I’d always live in the memory of it.
“Still hate me?” I murmured, panting softly against his cheek.
His gaze sought mine and when he looked at me there was tenderness there. Vulnerability. Grace.
“No,” he whispered and tears immediately filled my eyes as I attempted to blink them away. The relief I felt was immediate and gratifying. Enough to make the prison walls securing my heart slip open with little effort.
Shame began edging inside and I tried to keep it at bay but it forced its way through and singed me hot as a brand, the barriers sliding solidly back in place.
I backed away like I’d been burned, my hands trembling, my heart crumbling. “Well, you should. I deserve nothing less.”
I snapped the condom off and tied it before reaching for my boxers and pulling them up my thighs. He lay staring at me, utter confusion and concern in his gaze.
Bending over, I gathered his face in my hands. “But if I did deserve it, I’d always choose you.”
I stumbled my way out the door, knowing it was likely our last time together and I couldn’t do anything to stop the earth from rumbling beneath my feet and creating an earthquake of epic proportions inside my chest.
27
Brin
Hanging the remainder of my clothes in the closet, I felt slightly off-kilter about being back in my condo. I was excited to have my own space again yet it also seemed quieter. Had it not been for Tally, it would’ve also felt lonelier.
Shiny hardwood floors and fresh gray paint were the first things I noticed when I entered my place through the kitchen. It was even difficult to detect where they had to tear into the wall to replace the pipes. The superintendent assured me everything was brand new and in good condition, so the likelihood of a flood happening again was rare.
With his guarantee, I had brought in the box of comics from the trunk of my car. After sitting on my bed and reading through a couple of Avengers editions as well as the Micronauts copy my father had found in my parents’ basement, I planned to return them to the top shelf of my closet.
It was Sunday and my parents would be here within the hour to see the changes made to my condo. My dad, who’d only been here a couple other times, would walk around the perimeter of the small, one-bedroom space and grumble about how they no longer used solid wood this or that in modernized buildings and I would pretend to sympathize with what he was saying, because at least it was something.
At the same time, my thoughts kept drifting to my temporary roommates, wondering whether or not Nick was bringing Elijah to Mrs. Dell’s house for Sunday dinner. And though I hadn’t spoken to Nick since that night he tilted my world upside down on a lumpy futon, he was always so close to the surface in my everyday thoughts.
But if I did deserve it, I’d always choose you.
Goddamn it. I tried again to shake the man from my brain. The way he coaxed that orgasm out of me like he knew my body, had played it like a fine-tuned fiddle. Got me to admit I no longer despised him but then refused to accept it.
Well, you should. I deserve nothing less.
And like a thunderclap in my chest, it had all become clear to me last night. After I lay awake in bed until after midnight, my fingers reached for my cell, as I considered inviting Nick over. I missed him. Fuck, did I miss him. And this time was even worse because he had gotten even further under my skin and showed me sides of himself he never had before. So having his scent in my sheets would’ve only hurt worse. Besides, he had definitely put that wall back up between us as he left the room that night.
Something huge happened way back when, most likely involving his sister. Something Nick felt guilty about, responsible for—that much was obvious. And it wasn’t something classic, like the fear I was wracked with finally telling my parents I was gay and the shame of feeling my father’s wariness around me.
It was the kind of remorse that kept him awake at night, and seeped into his scary and sorrowful nightmares. The type of regret that made him subvert his own dreams in order to keep his father’s business afloat and his mother’s happiness in the forefront. Overthrow his own visceral need to be with a man—at least out in the open. And because of that, I needed to stay far away because my feelings were already on a slippery slope. I had already fallen partway down the cliff and my heart couldn’t afford to go that extra mile.
I had been with far too many guys who didn’t give me what I needed emotionally and Nick would only be another in a long line. Except, fuck, the way he looked at me with such longing and affection married with such desolation, it wasn’t anything I’d soon forget. Nicholas Dell would always be in my thoughts in some way, shape or form—and I’d have to learn to live with that.
Patting Tally on the head, I left her prone form on the bed and walked to the kitchen to brew a new pot of coffee. I had taken her for a long walk this morning and ended up at the bakery, which had unfortunately run out of my mom’s favorite chocolate cherry bread. I purchased a variety of Danishes and muffins instead, which I now reached for in the familiar white box tied with string.
Looking toward the living room, I saw that everything seemed in order for my visitors. The couch, love seat, and entertainment unit were salvaged in the flood but against the shiny floor and fresh paint they seemed brand new.
So I figured losing this place for nearly a month had been worth it. Except the part where I reconnected with a boy from my past who was my first real crush. I was probably half in love with him even back then. And to find out that I wasn’t some throwaway to him—at least not initially—was everything.
There was a knock at my door, Tally barked and raced toward the entrance, greeting my parents at the same time as me.
“It’s so strange to hear a dog at your place,” Mom remarked, as she walked through the door, smiling. She bent down to stroke Tally’s fur. “Bet you like it here.”
“Hey, Dad,” I said, my stomach clenching like it always did, hoping the awkward tension between us wouldn’t hold us hostage during this visit.
“Me too.” I breathed a sigh of relief that we could find common ground. “Have a seat, I’ll pour us some coffee.”
My parents sat in a couple of bar stools at the kitchen island while I made us all coffee to our liking. My father took his black, while my mom and I liked the fancy creamers, as my dad called it. After I sat down on the end stool, I slid the plate of pastry toward them, knowing my father would likely decline while my mom and I indulged in our favorites. Tally kept close to my father’s side and he seemed amused as he stroked her fur and attempted to slip her a crumb from one of the muffins.
“Hey,” Mom laughed, patting Dad’s leg. “You’re going to start a bad habit.”
“Brian doesn’t mind,” he muttered as he looked over at me. “Do you?”
“You’re going to make a friend for life,” I teased and he smiled.
“So how was it moving back here?” Mom asked, angling in her stool to have a look around the place. “Feel good?”
“Yeah, more quiet I guess you could say,” I replied, thinking about how I kept expecting somebody to barge through the door this weekend. “After living with two roommates.”
“I can imagine,” she said, after a bite of her muffin. “You mentioned the boy from high school—Nick.” She patted my hand and made eyes at me. “Anything new with him?”
My cheeks burned as I dipped my head, not only because of the situation I had just left but because it was still awkward for me to talk openly about men in front of my father.
But I had always tried to simply be me, no matter the consequences.
“It’s definitely been interesting,” I said and my father looked away as if uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was headed. “Except, he…uh, he had a sibling die a few years ago and he’s still wrecked about it.”
My father cleared his throat and I thought maybe he was going to excuse himself to the restroom or the balcony. Instead his gaze swung to mine with a spark of interest, which threw me.
“Just give it some time, you know?” he muttered. I saw the shadows in his eyes again. The same ones Nick seemed to have. His shoulders slumped. “The pain and the guilt can stay with you for years.”
28
Brin
“What kind of guilt?” I asked, eyes wide as I stared at my father. The fact that he would actually have something to say about a guy I was crazy about made my pulse quicken. Sure he’d met a couple of other guys over the years but never really took the time to talk about anything of substance beyond formalities.
“Oh, I don’t know,” he replied with a heavy sigh. He picked at the napkin I had placed beneath his cup. “That maybe you could’ve said or done something more…before they died.”
He stood up suddenly and I knew the conversation was about to be over. “Going to use the restroom.”
Mom threw me a sympathetic look as I bounded up. “Yeah, sure. Just hit the switch closest to the sink so you can get some light.”
Mom and I were quiet as I cleared the plates and placed the leftover muffins back in the box, both of us lost in our own thoughts.
“Let’s see the rest of the place,” Dad said when he emerged a couple of minutes later as if nothing at all had happened.
“There’s not much else,” I replied, following behind him as he trailed through the living room. “The bathroom stayed the same as you already saw…”
Mom remarked that the living room looked nice and stopped to admire some of the older photos I had arranged on top of the entertainment unit. Most were either from childhood or from shelter charity events.
At the bedroom door, I reached over to the wall and flicked on the overhead light. “Nothing in here was really touched, except for the new flooring.”
As I stepped inside, my father’s gaze zeroed in on the box of comics I had left on the bed. “Is that Ricky’s…?”
“Oh yeah,” I replied, leaning against the dresser. “I meant to put them away.”
My father sat down on the edge of the mattress and drew the box toward him. “I haven’t seen these in years.” He began tabbing through the comics, which were all in protective sleeves. A small smile traced his lips. “He kept this damn box in the corner for years. Right next to the desk we used to do our homework.”
“In the room you shared?” I asked, crossing one ankle over the other, hoping like hell he’d continue opening up. I’d only heard scattered stories over the years.
He nodded and then glanced out the window as if recalling a memory. “It would drive me crazy. I’d be outside playing ball with friends, and he’d be inside reading by himself.”
Sort of sounded like me, I wanted to say. But I held back, in case I broke the spell and he’d remember he was actually communicating about something of substance with me. He thumbed through to the center of the box and lifted one of the comics that always looked more tattered than the others. “Wolverine was his favorite. Nobody was allowed to touch this one.”
“Yeah?” I asked, padding toward the bed for a closer look. It was a volume one from the early eighties.
“I think he had a crush on a fictional character,” he recalled with a wistful laugh.
“It happens,” I said trying to add humor. I sat down, reaching for the comic. I paged through it trying to see if there were any clues as to why it would be a favorite, other than the character being prickly and sort of alpha. I smiled to myself thinking that was probably reason enough. “Maybe he identified with him in some way or wished there was more…representation.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, his eyebrows arched together.
“Like, you know, he wished he could find someone like him in the comics…or even in books or TV shows back then,” I replied and it was like a light bulb had clicked on over my father’s head. “It’s way better now, but not by much. We all just want to feel like we’re not invisible.”
Dad’s head swung down but not before I noticed a flicker of sadness cross his features. “You remind me so much of him.”
My heart pounded in my throat. “Dad, I’m sorry—”
“No,” he said emphatically as he fixed his eyes on me. “Never be sorry. Never be sorry for who you are. You hear me?”
His trembling hand reached for my shoulder and I felt tears welling behind my eyes. “Yeah,” I whispered with what felt like a clogged throat. “I hear you.”
All of a sudden Tally burst through the door and jumped on the bed, delivering my dad a slobbery lick across the face. My mom was in the doorway, swiping away a stray tear as we all laughed. When our eyes met, she winked at me.
Elijah and I both worked on the grooming side Tuesday. I had volunteered to bring us all lunch from a favorite sandwich shop up the road since the afternoon schedule was leaner today and Brooke was training a new part-time employee on the daycare side.
When I walked back in with a large brown bag that contained sandwiches and a cup of soup, Elijah was working on a new customer on the grooming side, while Brooke stood chatting with the new trainee. I handed Tristan his cup of broccoli cheese soup while he sat at the computer on a phone call with what sounded like a customer.
“How does it feel being back in your condo?” Brooke asked me after I strolled back to the counter. She stifled a cough against her elbow and then narrowed her eyes at Elijah, who she blamed for giving her a nasty cold the past few days.
“Pretty good,” I replied as I placed the bag on the other side of the register.
“Brin misses us and that lumpy mattress,” Elijah announced to Brooke with a smirk as I doled out our lunches. I rolled my eyes in her direction as she waved and walked back over to the daycare side with the trainee.
Elijah was finishing up shearing a standard poodle, which now looked ten pounds lighter without all the hair. “Oh yeah, the futon did wonders for my back. And Nick’s nightmares—”
I stopped talking
immediately deciding that was a bad joke and hoping Elijah hadn’t heard me.
No chance of that because he looked at me funny. “Nightmares?”
I shook my head. “Never mind.”
I unwrapped my turkey and bacon sandwich and took a bite.
“Was Nick having them again?” he asked as he led the poodle to one of the holding crates.
“Yeah,” I sighed, my stomach revolting a bit. Any thoughts about Nick made me long to see him again, but I didn’t want to act like a lovesick puppy in front of Elijah. “Does it happen often?”
“They seem to come and go in waves,” he replied as he affixed a red, white, and blue patriotic handkerchief around the dog’s neck—something extra we always did for our customers, the theme depending on the season.
“Tallulah kept ending up in his room,” I explained, looking over at the daycare side to see what my dog was up to today. I spotted her in the corner of the room wrestling with a new Weimaraner mix around her age. “Maybe to comfort him.”
His eyebrows drew together. “When I was at Stewart’s place?”
“Yeah,” I replied and suddenly my sandwich didn’t taste so good anymore.
“Might’ve only been a passing thing. He seems fine now.” My shoulders slumped, not because I wanted Nick to still be tossing and turning but because I was reading way too much into Elijah’s comment—like my leaving was no big deal. I was being ridiculous because he had no clue what the hell had even happened between us these past few weeks.
Once Elijah was finished washing his hands at the sink, I passed him his sandwich. “How much do you know about Nick’s history?”
“Enough,” he said around a bite of roast beef and cheddar. “I don’t pry.”
“Shocking,” I deadpanned, wrapping up the remainder of my sandwich.
“Quiet, you,” he said, pointing his drink straw at me. “I mean, you were at his mom’s house. His sister and his dad passed away…and he seems to shoulder a lot. Enough said.”
Regret (Under My Skin Book 1) Page 14
