“I was just so shocked to see my folks.”
“Did you tell them about yourself?” Brad’s pause was way too long. “You didn’t, did you?”
“See ya, guys.”
That voice. Woody’s head snapped so fast his neck cracked. Mack had been here the whole time? Shit. Of all the fucking bars in Chicago… He could tell by the haunted look in his eyes that Mack, on the other hand, had known he was here.
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“Someone you know?”
The jealousy in Brad’s voice was loud and clear. And he had no right.
“Woody.”
Mack tilted his head—as a signal?—and blew out the door of the bar. Woody’s gaze swung back to the group he’d been with and immediately took them for cops. He wanted to know why the son of a bitch ignored him when he was in the hospital. It was common courtesy to check in with a friend, a friend who’d been shot. Besides, they were more than friends. Or had Mack decided they were less than that? Were they just fuck buddies?
“Woody, are you listening to me?”
“What? No, I’m not. I’m sorry. I’ve got to go.” Woody pulled himself into the present and added, “I hope things go well for you, Brad. Be happy.” There, that ought to do it. He didn’t owe Brad any more. What he really wanted to do right now was confront Mack.
Yeah, that’s what he needed to do. Confront him once and for all.
This yes-no was making him nuts. You got over every other man you fell for. You can get over this one, too.
Outside, he spotted Mack waiting, leaning against a light pole.
“We can’t talk here.” Mack threw a glance at the door to the bar.
“No,” Woody agreed.
“I live near here.”
“Uh-huh.” He wouldn’t make this easy.
Mack took a deep breath and let it out in a whoosh. “Can we go there?”
What did Mack have in mind besides sex? They both knew, at least he did, that sex wasn’t going to happen, but still he wanted privacy for the things he needed to say.
“Come on.” Mack took off walking.
He would have liked to hear “please,” but he could live without it.
Woody intended to confront him. He’d follow, but it would be the last time. His heart skittered then thumped heavily inside his chest.
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Mack’s intensity had overwhelmed him in the past, but this time he would keep his head even though his body pulsed at the memory of how Mack could turn him into a quivering mess.
Everything he’d said to Mack before the shooting was still true.
So why was he entering Mack’s building and following him to his fucking door? It was probably the stupidest thing he’d ever done.
“I’m leaving,” he muttered. Then he registered Kiki’s scratching sounds and barking from inside the apartment, and Mack had the door open before he could get away.
“Kiki, settle down.” Mack cuddled the pup close to his chest, murmuring, “Shh, it’s okay.” The dog looked up at Mack, apparently understanding the reassuring tone, and gave him a big lick on the chin. Mack smiled and briefly rubbed his cheek against the dog’s face.
Woody gazed in bemused surprise at the sight of big, tough Mack Penchant getting mushy with the dog. Warmth blossomed inside him, heat wrapping around his heart. Seeing him in action with his dog before, this reaffirmed that he didn’t just provide shelter and walks for his pet. In fact, he wasn’t an out–and-out, completely cold bastard after all.
Mack stepped back and motioned Woody in.
Woody glanced around the barren living room but stayed close to the door.
Mack gave him a can I put her down look and nodded at the wiggling dog.
“Sure. I’m okay.”
“Kiki, be good.”
Woody knelt. “Hey, girl.” He scratched the sniffing dog behind the ears. “How ya doing, pal?” The dog flipped onto her back begging for more. Continuing the scratching, Woody gazed up at Mack, waiting for his next move.
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Mack thrust his fingers through his hair, holding it back for a minute before releasing it. “Anything to drink?” he asked, turning toward the kitchen.
“No, thanks. I’m good.” Woody stood, watching Kiki run to the front door, then look back at Mack. “Um, Mack, I think Kiki needs to pee.”
Mack stalked back into the living room, clearly irritated at the dog and embarrassed in front of Woody.
Woody laughed. “Take her out. I’ll wait.”
“You’re sure?”
His laughter died at the fear in Mack’s eyes. Oh, my God, he’s really scared. “Yeah, I’ll wait.” Ten minutes later, Mack and Kiki returned, and in short order he heard the crunching of dry dog food from the kitchen. Mack rejoined him, and the living room suddenly seemed too small. Everything was a surprise to him. Mack didn’t have knickknacks, but he did have books. Lots of them in twin bookshelves. Mysteries and presidential biographies. Interesting.
His shoulder ached a little, and he rested his arm against his chest.
He’d become used to afternoon naps. “I didn’t come here for a fuck, in case you’re wondering.”
Mack dragged a kitchen chair around, straddled it, and rested his arms along the back. “I don’t think that.”
“I guess you’re going to make me ask.” Mack made no response.
Fuck him. “Why didn’t you call me?” He was stunned when Mack’s expression went from impassive to pure need in a second. But he had to ask. “Why am I here, anyway?” Mack took a deep breath and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You were right.”
“Yeah?”
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“And I would know that how? I was shot, in the hospital, on leave. Did you call? No.” He wasn’t going to let Mack off the hook on this one.
“I know. I can’t give you a good excuse.” At least Mack looked sheepish. That was some consolation.
“You”—Mack paused, rubbing his nape—”with you I—feel.” Shaking his head, he continued, his voice hoarse, “Too much. I mean, it hurts.” He looked away.
Woody’s mind spun. What did that mean?
Mack pushed himself off the chair. “I don’t expect you to understand or even believe me.”
Woody rose, too. “Listen, it isn’t a good time for this. I’m exhausted and need some sleep. Being shot takes a lot out of a man.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“You’ve been shot?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry. Believe me, I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.” Woody sighed. He really was so very tired. Sitting down again, he leaned his head back on the couch.
“Let me put you to bed—”
Woody’s head snapped up. “I’m not having sex with you.”
“I just want to take care of you. You look beat. We can talk in the morning.” Mack gently urged him up and steered him into the bedroom.
He really was exhausted, and his shoulder ached. Mack eased him down, took off his shoes, and covered him with the quilt. Was this Mack taking care of him? The bed was soft, his head nestled nicely into the pillow, and he felt warm beneath the feather-light quilt. He’d just rest his eyes for a moment…
Opening his eyes to total darkness, he knew he must have fallen asleep. Still so weary, he rolled to his side and into an obstacle.
“Are you okay?”
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The deep, familiar voice… The sweetness, the gentle fingers smoothing back his hair then drifting down his jaw felt like Heaven.
“Just go back to sleep…”
Woody woke, sniffing the air. Coffee and bacon, two of the nicest scents in the morning. Then— what’s going on? Where am I?
He opened his eyes. Sunlight peeped through Venetian blinds, and Kiki lay next to hi
m, gazing calmly at him, her head resting on her paws. Pushing himself upright, he groaned at the residual pain in his shoulder. Mack. He had the fuzzy memory of waking up next to him some time in the middle of the night. Woody still had his clothes on, so they hadn’t made love. Sex.
* * * *
Mack turned from the stove when he heard a rustling at the kitchen doorway. A rumpled Woody, hand up to shield his eyes, blinked into the bright morning light. The back of his neck crawled with nervousness. What would he do if Woody wanted to leave?
That’s why he’d cooked breakfast. To give him a reason to stay.
He didn’t want Woody to leave until he’d said his piece.
“Morning.” He half turned back to the stove where bacon sizzled in the frying pan. Woody looked tastier to eat than anything he could cook, his jeans low-slung and unsnapped. A gray T-shirt, tight around his beautiful, muscled chest, draped out loosely over his flat abdomen.
Mouthwatering.
Feeling way off-kilter, he closed his eyes for a moment. He could get used to seeing this every morning. Well, maybe not the curious and suspicious expression on Woody’s face.
“What are you doing?”
“Making breakfast.” Mack didn’t blame him for being wary.
“I can see that.” Woody shook his head as if clearing the wool out of it. “Why?”
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“Aren’t you hungry?” Mack forked strips of bacon onto a paper towel to drain. “Want some coffee?”
Woody’s frown stayed right where it was as he headed for the coffeemaker and poured a cup. He stood stiffly, sipping his coffee and gazing out the window looking over the alley behind Mack’s building.
Mack figured he might as well start. “I want to talk.” Woody’s shoulders sagged. “If you’re just going to tell me that all you can offer is occasional sex, then consider it said.” Mack took a deep breath.
“And consider my answer no.”
He let the breath out. This was going to be hard for him to say and hard for Woody to hear. “That’s not it. Can we sit down? Here?” Mack motioned to the kitchen table. Then he doled out the bacon and warm cinnamon rolls.
Woody looked sharply at the pastries. “Did you make those?”
“Yeah. I let you sleep longer. You almost passed out last night.” Lying next to Woody, fully clothed, holding him closely had brought him peace. Nonsexual peace. Unbelievable peace. Mack motioned toward a chair again and sat down.
“I really don’t know what’s going on here,” Woody muttered.
That didn’t stop him from picking up a piece of bacon and taking a bite, though.
They ate in near silence, the only sounds the slurping of coffee and crunching of bacon. The cinnamon rolls went down quietly.
Woody stood to put his dishes in the sink. Mack stopped him, a hand on his forearm, feeling the flexing of his muscles. “Hold up a minute. Please. Let me talk. Just give me a few more minutes.” Woody sat back down. Mack hoped the rest would be as easy as that, but he doubted it. He was about to open his heart. It was a risk, but he may not have another chance. “We…I could have lost you with that bullet.” He squeezed Woody’s arm and let it go. “You’ve probably noticed that I’m not all that romantic.” Woody gave the slightest nod.
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“I’ve never cared for anyone before, not really, not in all these years. I’ve been with men and women—”
Woody’s gaze sharpened at that. “You’ve fucked women?” Mack smiled slightly. “That didn’t work well for obvious reasons.
I’ve never let another man get to me. Not in the way you affect me.
You probably don’t realize that.” He held up a hand. “I know. You’d have no way of knowing because I haven’t showed you.”
“Are you giving me the ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ line?” Woody challenged.
“Yeah, I am. It is me. I’m all the things you accused me of and more. I’ve used men’s bodies for a long time now without giving anything back. Sure, I fuck them, let them suck my dick, but, and here’s the tough part, Woody.” He made himself meet those glorious brown eyes. “I never allow anyone to fuck me.” He stopped, took a deep breath, slowly let it out.
Woody stared. “What does this have to do with me, Mack?” The son of a bitch wasn’t going to make it easy, was he? Mack clenched his jaw to control the rising fear that this wasn’t going well.
“You’re different.” He stood suddenly, scraping his chair legs on the tile floor. Pacing along the counter, he struggled with how to express his feelings. “I don’t know how to say this, Woody. I want you. I’ve never wanted someone before. Not a specific man like you. I want you.”
Woody opened his mouth, probably to say something sarcastic, then closed it again.
“I didn’t know it was even possible.” From behind, he rested his hands on Woody’s shoulders and felt him jerk at the touch, slight as it was.
Mack couldn’t believe he said it. I want you.
“Are you saying you care?”
He caressed Woody’s neck, pushing his fingers up into his hair, sifting, really feeling the tickle of the soft strands against his palms.
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caressed his chest, tipping a satisfied smile at Woody’s hiss of pure arousal when his fingers curled around his pectorals, flicking his nipples, rubbing and squeezing the tips. He bent and brushed his morning beard-roughened cheek against Woody’s.
“Shit. No. Not like this,” Woody exclaimed, pushing up from the table. “Not just sex.”
“I’m trying to say things to you I’ve never said to anyone before.
The words come hard. I’m better with actions.”
“No kidding.” Woody put the table between them. “Maybe, damn you, I need the words.”
Mack leaned against the counter, his arms folded tightly across his chest as if it was the only way to hold himself together. “Okay. Yes, I care for you.”
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Chapter Fifteen
“Why?” Woody responded so fast Mack barely got the word you out.
So much for his big revelation. “Jesus, man, you’re not making this easy.”
“Why should I? You fuck me and leave. More than once, which makes me wonder how smart I am. How do I know this isn’t just another attempt to get into my ass?”
It was like being clawed into raw bits, which he supposed he deserved. He moved toward Woody.
“No, don’t touch me.”
“But I want to so much. Can’t you see I’m trying to make my feelings clear?”
“Yes,” Woody whispered.
Mack planted his fists on his hips. “You’re warm.” Woody touched his forehead. “Warm?”
“Your house. Your life. You.” Mack spoke the words so fast they slurred together. “God, I need to hold you. I’m just so tired of being alone.” He shocked himself with his plaintive tone. When moisture built in his eyes, he knew he was in deep shit. “I’ve known I was gay since high school, before my mother died, even. She knew it, too, and spewed hatred at me for it. I had to hide it, cover it up. Then she died.” He turned to gaze sightlessly out the kitchen window, not sure he could say this and look Woody in the eye. “After I graduated, a Marine recruiter approached me. He was my first.”
“First? You mean the first guy you had sex with?” Woody asked hesitantly.
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Mack nodded, his eyes wide, staring into his distant past. “Yeah.”
“What about Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell?”
“He didn’t ask me, and I never told anyone.”
“He forced you?”
Mack hugged his torso, shamed by what had happened.
“My God, Mack. He was a bastard. I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah. He plugged me,” he responded t
onelessly. “Right in the john at the recruitment center.” He risked a glance at Woody’s horrified expression. “It wasn’t rape exactly. We went at it every day until I shipped off to Parris Island. He fucked my ass, and we sucked each other off.”
“Pretty much what you do to me.”
“Yeah. You and everyone else. Then I went to boot camp.
Imagine a teenage guy, who’d just had his sexuality confirmed by his first homosexual experience, now being in the company of hundreds more hot guys. It was torture.”
Woody made a rough, caustic sound. “Damn, yeah, I can believe it.”
“I fought it for eight years in the Marine Corps. I tried sleeping with women. I tried sneaking off to gay bars. I couldn’t do anything to change my desires. I eventually was able to sublimate them because I led a dangerous life.”
“You never had a relationship with another man?”
“Quickies, not even one-night stands, just quick fucks. Plug some guy’s ass and go. I was really good at it.”
“Then you joined the force and found another male bastion of testosterone,” Woody added with a short laugh.
“I’m good at hiding. So are you. We have to be.”
“What’s different now?”
He felt he was making Woody understand, but there was still more to get off his chest. “You’re the most normal guy I’ve ever known. The only people you hide your sexuality from are coworkers.
Otherwise, you’re not ashamed of it. Even your family knows and I’ll Be Your Last
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approves. You are so fucking normal. You make me feel safe, make me want things I never thought I’d have. A home…” Mack thrust his fingers through his hair, clenching the strands. “Love.” There, I’ve said it. “I always thought I was the more masculine man in any—”
“Sex act?”
“It’s why I’m the aggressor and do the fucking. But you’re more of a man than I’ll ever be.”
Woody closed his eyes, a soft smile on his lips. “Fucking you is something I want, but I love it when you’re above me, face-to-face or behind. It doesn’t matter. I love having your strength covering me. It makes me feel safe.”
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