by Lina Langley
Alois had laughed. “Sorry. I’d always wanted to do that.”
“Always?”
Alois had cocked his head, his eyes gray and blue, wide and beautiful. “Since I first saw you,” Alois had replied. “Do you want to go for a coffee or something when we’re back on solid ground?”
Ethan had wanted to say no. He didn’t have time to date, and in any case, a foreign correspondent and a private military translator were a match made in logistical hell, so even if he had wanted to, he was certain it wasn’t going to work. He found himself nodding, instead, because he couldn’t see the harm in it.
It was just one coffee, after all.
***
The moment Ethan climbed into the car, he let go of Max’s hand. “What the fuck?”
“You said you wanted to freak out the governor’s mother,” Max said. “You said you were going to kiss me.”
“Yes,” Ethan replied. “On the cheek. That would have been plenty scandalizing enough.”
Max narrowed his eyes and smiled at Ethan, his eyebrows slightly raised. “So you didn’t like that?”
“I didn’t like the surprise,” Ethan replied.
“But you enjoyed the kiss,” Max replied, leaning back on the seat. “You could have pulled away.”
“No, I couldn’t have,” Ethan said, leaning back himself. He closed his eyes and tried to breath deeply.
He felt Max’s hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
Ethan opened his mouth to tell him that it was okay, but before he could get any words out, Max was kissing him again. This time, the kiss wasn’t chaste, it was almost desperate. Before he could think about it, he was kissing Max back, his tongue wrestling against Max’s own. Max pushed against him, his hand behind Ethan’s head, his fingers threaded through his hair.
He jerked away from Ethan’s mouth and set his gaze straight on Ethan’s eyes. “You can tell me to stop,” Max said.
Ethan blinked. He looked at the arched dark eyebrows on the angular face in front of him, the thin nose with the slightly bent bridge, the stubble framing his lips, his lower lip thinner than his upper lip. Max tasted like cinnamon and rum. “I know,” he said. Ethan didn’t make a move to kiss him again, but he didn’t know if he would have stopped Max from initiating.
Max didn’t go for another kiss. He sat back and looked ahead. It seemed like he was being careful not to touch Ethan, to make sure that even their legs weren’t touching despite how closely they were sitting to each other.
Ethan cleared his throat. “He’s a snake.”
“Who’s a snake?” Max asked, furrowing his brow.
“Claudio Andelman,” Ethan said. “The governor’s campaign manager. He’s a snake, an opportunistic asshole. He lives and breathes petty. He’s also really good at his job.”
“He told me you’d say something like that.”
“You talked to him about this?”
“He’s a friend,” Max replied. When Ethan raise an eyebrow, he laughed. “A dear one.”
“Great,” Ethan said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I don’t really want to get involved in any of Claudio’s games, so if this is one of them, I think the driver should drop me off at home and we should never see each other again.”
“I didn’t realize that continuing to see each other was an option,” Max said, sounding far too amused to Ethan.
“It wasn’t,” Ethan said. “It isn’t.”
“I didn’t think so,” Max said. “Which is a shame. You’re a good kisser, Ethan Zhong.”
Ethan swallowed, looking away from him. The car pulled up to his building and he took a second to take a long look at Max. He wasn’t Alois, of course he wasn’t, but he was there and he was warm. It had been so long since Ethan had been with anyone. This was good optics, too, so technically, he would be doing his sister a favor.
Sleep with the German, he told himself. It’ll be good for the governor.
“Fine,” he said when the car stopped. “You can come upstairs.”
Max smirked at him. “I thought you said that wasn’t an option.”
“You have to leave tonight,” Ethan said. “You can’t stay until the morning.”
“What made you think I wanted to?” Max replied, his gaze darting between Ethan’s lips and his eyes.
Ethan was the one to kiss him this time. There was something about Max, about the way he was teasing him, about the way he kept moving his face just close enough to make Ethan reach for him. They kissed deeply again, sloppily, until Ethan was gasping for breath. Ethan swallowed when he moved away from Max. “You don’t want to?”
“I didn’t say that,” Max replied.
Ethan climbed out of the car, aware that he could tell Max that he didn’t want to do this. He looked over his shoulder, ready to say exactly that, but he couldn’t find it in him to do it. He must have wanted this. There was a part of him that had to want this, because he could have told Max that there was no chance, that he needed to get back in the car and drive away from him.
That he never wanted to see Max again.
Those were the things he should have said, but as he unlocked the glass door that let him into his building, he knew there was no turning back. They were going to sleep together, then Max was going to leave his apartment in the middle of the night and Ethan would never think about him again.
But maybe it would be okay to go to bed when the sheets weren’t cold. When it didn’t feel like it was far too big for him, when he didn’t dream about sand and blood and football—because Alois had called it football, of course it wasn’t soccer. Maybe it would be okay if, when he went to sleep, he could have a warm body next to him. It didn’t have to be Alois. It just needed to be somebody.
Ethan called the elevator. Max wasn’t touching him then, but Ethan could still feel his presence, he could still hear his sharpened breathing next to his ear. Max was taller than him so Ethan could feel his breath on the back of his head, heat emanating from his body. When the elevator doors opened in front of him, Ethan only had to take a step forward before he felt Max’s hand on the top of his back.
Max wasn’t quite pushing him, but he was pressing hard against his back. When the doors shut behind them, Max moved his hand so it was on the back of Ethan’s neck. He leaned down to breathe on his skin, sending a shiver down Ethan’s spine. Then Max moved his hand up toward Ethan’s hair, his fingers firm on it. He pulled his head back then, hard enough to make Ethan groan.
“Look at yourself,” Max said, pressing his body against Ethan’s. He could feel Max’s erection pressing on his ass as Max spoke into Ethan’s ear. “I can see on your skin, the flush over it, in the glaze in your eyes. In the way you open your mouth. You want this so much, don’t you?”
Ethan swallowed.
“Say no,” Max said into his ear. “Tell me you don’t want this, Ethan. I’ll let you go. If you want me to let you go, just tell me to let you.”
Ethan grunted as he twisted his body away from Max’s grip. Max dropped his hands to his side. When Ethan squared up to him, he saw Max’s smile, the way his eyes were glinting. “You don’t know me,” Ethan said quietly, his voice a menacing whisper. “Don’t do anything like that again.”
Max cocked his head. “I won’t. Not until you beg me for it.”
“Fuck you,” Ethan said. He was ready to spit in Max’s face when he felt the elevator drop slightly and the doors dinged as they opened.
Max didn’t move. “I can go,” he said, holding the elevator door open. “You don’t have to take me back to your apartment.”
Ethan walked out of the elevator. “If you want to go, you’re free to leave.”
Max’s face was hidden form the light, but Ethan could see the smile on his face, the way his blue eyes were glimmering. He didn’t have time to keep looking at him. He walked to his door, stuck his hand in his pocket and rummaged for his key.
The fumbled with the lock. The moment he opened
the door, the smell of whisky and patchouli hit him hard. Max walked in behind him, looking around when Ethan turned on the light. “Rustic.”
“You can say it’s a shithole,” Ethan replied, kicking off his shoes the moment he walked inside. “Do you want me to take your jacket?”
“I want you to take more than that,” Max said as he took off his jacket. “But that will do for now.”
Ethan rolled his eyes. Max’s shirt was white and slightly see-through and Ethan could see his pale skin through the thin fabric. It clung to his body like a candy wrapped and Ethan couldn’t help but notice how hard his heart was beating when he set his gaze on Max’s back, on the way his obliques looked under the white cotton fabric.
Max watched him and licked his lips. “Do you want me to take my shirt off too?”
Ethan swallowed. “You can do whatever you want,” he said. “I don’t care.”
“And yet you keep staring at me.”
“Because you’re here,” Ethan said, looking him up and down. He put his jacket on the hanger behind the door as he wondered if he should offer Max a drink. This didn’t seem like the kind of situation where he offered his guest a drink, but then again, he had never been in a situation like this before. Then he looked down at Max’s feet and scoffed. “When you’re in my house, you take your shoes off.”
Max took a second, then nodded curtly. He kicked his shoes off quickly, putting them next to where Ethan’s shoes were. “Fine,” he finally said, more to the tile floor than to Ethan. “Like you said, it’s your house. I would never dream of breaking the rules in your space.”
Ethan looked up at him, his mouth dry. The man might have taken off his shoes, but that didn’t mean anything. The mockery was still clear in his voice, in the way he was staring at Ethan, in the way his hands were on the top of his shirt and it looked like he was about to start undoing his buttons. “What does that mean?”
“It means you need to tell me what your rules are,” Max said.
Ethan swallowed, his throat dry. He didn’t know what his rules were, because he hadn’t ever even thought about establishing any rules. He didn’t think that any rules needed to be set in the first place.
Max looked him up and down. “Do you need help?”
“No,” Ethan said. “I don’t.”
Max raised his eyebrows, a little smile on his face. His lips were tightly shut, but he looked like might as well have been laughing at him. “It looks like you might, though. You know, need help.”
“What are you, Clippy?”
Max’s eyes widened then he shook his head. “I was being polite.”
Ethan licked his lower lip. He got very close to Max’s face, to the point where their faces were only inches away from each other. When he spoke, he was sure Max could feel Ethan’s breath on his skin. “No, you weren’t,” he said. “You were being a presumptuous dickhead.”
Max smiles, his blue eyes meeting Ethan’s gaze. “And yet, I’m still here. You haven’t kicked me out.”
“Don’t get any ideas,” Ethan said, looking him up and down.
“I can’t help myself,” Max replied, taking a step closer to him. Now it was Ethan who could feel Max’s breath on his skin. “I’m still here.”
“Not for long,” Ethan said. He leaned forward to kiss Max on the mouth. It was a sweet, measured kiss. Their mouths never opened and other than Max’s firm lips on his own, all Ethan could feel was Max’s arm around his back, holding him in place. When he stopped to catch his breath, Ethan was still being held by Max, his strong arms entrapping him.
Ethan knew he could have pushed him away. He could have told Max to get out of his house. He could have said he never wanted to see him again. He didn’t do any of those things, opting instead to move away from Max and go to the kitchen to get himself a drink.
He took a bottle of wine out of the fridge and leaned over the counter as he swallowed. He took a moment to gather his thoughts, to think about Max. This wouldn’t be unfair, he told himself. It would be a one-night stand and Max would understand he had his reasons.
And even if he didn’t, Ethan would never see him again. So it wouldn’t matter. After tonight, they would nod at each other if they bumped into each other again, but they wouldn’t functionally be part of each other’s lives. He got the corkscrew from his drawer and took two glasses out. He didn’t think about offering Max anything else.
He poured the wine evenly in both glasses, filling it almost to the brim. He knew that wasn’t the way he was supposed to be pouring wine, but he needed to loosen up if he was going to make this happen. Max was still standing in his hallway when Ethan handed him his drink.
“Rosé?” Max asked before he took a sip.
“Yes,” Ethan replied. He took a second to steel himself. When he spoke, he hoped he sounded calmer than he felt. If Max talked, Ethan was almost certain it was going to send him into a tailspin and he might not have been able to do this after all. “We can go sit down.”
Max followed him. His silence was merciful, but Ethan still felt like he was teasing him by saying nothing. He sat down on one end of the sofa—hardly a sofa, a leather loveseat he’d found at a discount at Habitat for Humanity—and Max sat on the other one.
Ethan took a sip of his drink. He swirled it around in his hand, losing himself in the clear pink liquid. “Don’t choke me,” he said into his glass. “You can slap me, but you can’t punch me.”
Max looked at him, one eyebrow raised. Ethan didn’t know him at all, so it was hard to read his expression, especially when he could only look at Max from the corner of his eye. “You want me to hit you?” he asked.
Ethan shrugged. He was trying his best to keep his expression neutral, but Max’s silvery voice had sent a shock of electricity through his body, down his spine and to his cock. “No,” he said, aware his voice was breaking. He continued to refuse to look at him, instead opting to stare at the ripples in the wine in front of him. “I’m just saying you can. You know, if you want to.”
Max nodded. “Anything else?”
Ethan closed his eyes, exhaling heavily before he spoke. He put the glass down in front of him. “Don’t say my name,” he replied as he put the glass of wine down in front of him. “When we’re having sex. Don’t say my name when we’re having sex.”
Max cocked his head. This time, Ethan forced himself to look up at him, to meet his cloudy gray-blue eyes. “Do you want me to say it now?”
“My name?”
“Yes,” Max replied, then opened his mouth as if he was going to say something. He closed it again when he saw Ethan staring at him.
Ethan swallowed, his heart beating fast. “Say it.”
Max smiled at him. “No,” he said. “Not until you’ve earned it.”
Ethan sighed. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the sofa. This wasn’t at all what he had intended for the night to go. This was supposed to be a favor he was doing for his sister, and now… well, fuck. Now he was telling this person he’d never met before not to punch him while they were having sex.
Max finished the wine. He leaned forward to put the empty glass on the coffee table. “Thank you for the wine,” he said. “I should probably get going.”
Ethan watched him with a cocked eyebrow, his mouth dry, his heart in his throat. “After all of that, you’re just going to leave?”
“After all of what?” Max said. “We just kissed a bit.”
“Max…”
Max stood up. He leaned down to kiss Ethan on the cheek, then brushed his lips over Ethan’s ear. He didn’t quite kiss him, but the contact was enough to send a shiver down Ethan’s spine. “Thank you for the fun night,” Max said. “I should really go.”
Ethan watched him, his mouth dry. By the time he felt like he could say anything, he heard the door closing.
CHAPTER THREE
Ethan was sitting with Rosemary near the window at one of the most expensive brunch places in the city, First Time. He wasn’t going to pay—
the governor always picked up the bills when Ethan hung out with his sister—but he still felt a little bad about ordering the most expensive thing on the menu.
Until he looked at Rosemary, at least. She was wearing big sunglasses that covered half her face, no doubt to hide the bags under her eyes. She rarely slept nowadays. Not that she had ever been a good sleeper. Rosemary was a worried by nature and Ethan, much like their mother, had never understood why Rosemary wanted to get involved with someone as high-strung as she was.
Ethan didn’t spend much time questioning his older sister. She would have laughed and walked away from him. She had always been the protective one in the family, but after what had happened with her husband, Ethan couldn’t help but feel like he shared some of the blame. For the embarrassment he had put her through, partly, but mostly for how much he had broken her heart.
Rosemary had believed in all of it. She had swallowed the idea of the American dream whole and it had spread over her body and mind like a virus. Kelsey was perfect, their children were perfect, and Rosemary was living the life of a blonde, blue-eyed American woman in the fifties. Until an opponent had found out about Kelsey’s extramarital indiscretions—and there was a long list of them—Rosemary had believed that her family was perfect.
Then everything had come crumbling down, at least for their family. Politically, Kelsey’s gubernatorial reign was hardly over. Infidelity wasn’t what it had been in the nineties and no one seemed that scandalized about prostitutes anymore, especially not when they looked like porn star versions of the governor’s very own wife. It must have been humiliating for Rosemary, but she had never said anything of the sort. In fact, she rarely spoke about Kelsey. Ethan supposed it was for the better, because if she had said too much, he would have been happy to go and break his brother-in-law’s nose, regardless of whether he was the governor of Georgia.
