Where Nerves End

by L. A. Witt

  I made the rounds, checking on my bartenders and servers, making sure the DJ was set for the night, and keeping an eye on anyone who might be taking advantage of my liberal break policy. I asked the bouncers if they’d spotted any potential troublemakers. So far, so good.

  On my way to the upper level, I took out the earplugs I always wore downstairs. It was loud up here, but it was the difference between watching an airshow and sticking my head inside the intake of a space shuttle. If Tucker Springs ever wound up with an epidemic of hearing loss among its young gay population, I would probably be partly responsible.

  My eyes only took a moment to adapt from the flickering strobes downstairs to the dimmer, static lights up here. The older, more subdued crowd mingled and drank, shot pool and flirted, exchanged looks and phone numbers. Beer bottles. This or that on the rocks. Martinis. The bartenders undoubtedly pushing top-shelf. Quieter than downstairs, but not bad.

  A face in the crowd caught my attention, and I stopped in my tracks.

  Oh God.

  Apparently there was something worse than knowing Michael was fucking other men in my house: when he came to my club to find those men.

  Whatever gift he had for reading answers before they were spoken, he must have used it to tap into the part of my brain where I listed things that made my mouth water. Jeans that fit perfectly. Five-o’clock shadow. Hair arranged flawlessly but not locked into place with gel or some other shit that would preclude running my fingers through it. And of course the borderline fetish that Wes always thought was ridiculous—an old T-shirt under a blazer. Exactly the right amount of classy and casual mixed with some good old-fashioned don’t give a fuck.

  For the first time in my life, I was convinced someone had been put on this earth for the sole purpose of driving me insane.

  And in case my blood pressure wasn’t already all over the place, Michael saw me. And he was coming this way. And there was no pretending I hadn’t seen him, because I was staring at him like an idiot.

  “Hey,” I said when we were barely an arm’s length apart. “Didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”

  He smiled and brought his drink toward his lips. “Yeah, I hope you don’t mind me crashing your club.”

  “No, not at all.” I forced a grin. “The more the merrier.”

  “Well, I’ve heard good things about this place.” His smile suddenly lacked its usual shameless confidence. “Thought I’d, you know, check it out.”

  “Hope it doesn’t disappoint.”

  Over the rim of his glass, his eyes narrowed slightly and locked on mine. “So far so good.” As he took a drink, though, that momentary confidence, that flicker of boldness, faded, and he dropped his gaze. Then he met my eyes. “Do you, um, have a few minutes? To go somewhere and talk?”

  I smiled in spite of the knot that twisted beneath my ribs. “I’m the boss. I can take a few minutes if I want to.”

  His smile remained uncertain.

  I nodded toward the stairs. “Come on.”

  Heart pounding, I led him out into the stairwell and up to the employees-only rooftop terrace.

  “There’s a third level?” he asked.

  “Well, not really,” I said. “More of a glorified break room for my employees. Sucks during the winter. Everyone has to take breaks in the storage room, and the smokers? Well, they’re pretty fucked.” And you’re rambling, Captain Smooth-N-Suave.

  Michael laughed. “Seems like a good way to motivate them to quit.”

  “That’s what I’ve told them, but they just go outside and suffer.”

  He chuckled but didn’t say anything.

  We stopped beside the chest-high concrete railing, and when Michael looked up at the night sky, so did I.

  Tucker Springs didn’t have the same amount of light pollution as places like Denver, and when the night sky was this clear, the stars were more visible than they had any right to be over a city. Not the way they would have been if we were out in the middle of uninhabited nowhere, but still impressive. Something to stare at besides each other. But stargazing meant not talking, which defeated the purpose of coming up here.

  “So.” I resisted the urge to squirm. “You wanted to talk about something?”

  His fingers started drumming on the railing, marking a rapid, nervous rhythm on the weathered concrete. “About the other night.”

  “Okay….” I gulped. Which other night? I wanted to ask. When you brought someone else home? Or when I came home with “I fucked another man” written all over me and you almost sprinted out of the room? “Which part?”

  Then, as abruptly as they’d started, his fingers stopped drumming. “I… don’t even know.”

  Give me something here, Michael. A sign. A hint. Something.

  Exhaling, he ran a hand through his hair but kept his attention fixed on the mountains instead of me.

  “I thought you were straight.” Oh. Great. Perfect start to keeping the conversation from getting more awkward.

  But he whispered, “So did I.” He took a deep breath, lowering his gaze to the parking lot beside the club. “I’ve been telling myself that for a long, long time, anyway.”

  If he’d had a finger on my pulse right then, he wouldn’t have been able to count the beats. As he shifted and looked anywhere but right at me, I wondered if his heartbeat might have rivaled mine.

  He closed his eyes and pushed out a breath. He might’ve even cursed softly, though I couldn’t be sure. And finally he faced me and spoke. “To be blunt, I’m attracted to you.” He broke eye contact again, adding a murmured, “Very attracted.”

  Oh dear God. Please don’t let me be dreaming.

  My mouth had gone dry, but somehow I whispered, “Likewise.”

  That didn’t ease any of the tension in his posture. Or mine. Christ, where was this going?

  Come on, Michael, give me something….

  “So, if we both know we’re attracted to each other….” I cleared my throat. “Then why don’t—”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  Michael moistened his lips. “I have to be careful of my kid. And there’s my professional ethics. Yeah, we’re roommates. We’re…. We obviously….” He exhaled sharply. “But you’re still my patient too.”

  “You could always treat me at home. I’ll keep paying you just the same.”

  He kept his gaze down. “That wouldn’t change much.”

  “You said yourself you’ve treated your ex-wife.” I inclined my head. “And I don’t imagine she was relegated to patient status after that.”

  Pursing his lips, he stared at the concrete between us. “No, she wasn’t. But this is…. It’s complicated. You’re technically my patient. Plus we live together, so if things went south….”

  “I’m not after a commitment ceremony and a joint mortgage, if that’s what you’re worried about,” I said. “I’ve been there, done that.”

  He made eye contact at last. “Then what do you want?” It wasn’t a demand, not when his eyes screamed, Help me out, because I have no idea what’s happening here.

  “I’m not even sure. I just want… you.”

  Turning his body so he faced me completely, he rested his forearm on the railing beside him. Though he leaned against the wall, his body remained tense. Twitchy. It was weird to see him like this. I wasn’t used to Michael Whitman being flustered. Certainly not at a loss for words.

  “It’s not that I don’t want to, Jason,” he said finally. “Believe me, I do.”

  “Is that why you came here, then?” I asked. “To tell me why we can’t do anything about this?” When you’re dressed for the prowl, when you’re doing this here instead of at home, when you can’t possibly fathom how much this is killing me….

  “I….”

  I stepped a little closer, and we both tensed as the space between us shrank. “Michael?”

  He slowly released a breath. “I needed to talk to you,” he said, speaking quickly now, “an
d I’ll be the first to tell you I suck at this sort of thing, so when I realized I needed to do it, I figured I should come down here and get it over with, but I hadn’t really thought beyond pulling you aside to talk, so—” Abruptly, he cut himself off and shook his head. “Fuck, I don’t know. Honestly?” He met my eyes again. “I don’t know why I’m here.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  He swallowed. “No. I’m really not sure about anything right now.”

  “Except that you’re here.”

  “Except that you’re here.”

  Neither of us looked away this time. My heart thundered. Every muscle turned into a coiled spring waiting for one of us to trip my flight instinct. Or his.

  But when would I have an opportunity like this again?

  I’d never know where I found the nerve, but I reached for his hand on the railing. With only a few inches separating my palm from his skin, where his body heat started to mingle with mine, I paused. My fingers twitched indecisively in midair.

  Michael’s gaze darted toward that void between our hands. Then he met my eyes, and he’d never been so impossible to read. In the space of a heartbeat, his eyes told me to back off. The next, they dared me to keep going. The one after, begging me to pull back. Begging me not to pull back. And all the while, my unmoving hand hovered, waiting.

  Finally, eyes still locked on his, I lowered my hand, but in the same instant, he pulled his out from under, and my palm landed on coarse, vaguely warm concrete.

  Disappointment didn’t even have a chance to register, because a split second later his concrete-cooled palm met the side of my neck and his lips met mine.

  Neither of us moved. I couldn’t, not until I’d found the equilibrium that went out from under me the instant our mouths made contact. Was this…. Had he really…. Did this really fucking happen?

  God, yes, it did. And it wasn’t over yet.

  Michael’s other arm slid around my waist. Inhaling slowly through my nose, I wrapped my arms around him as our lips slowly, gently eased into motion.

  Every first kiss since the dawn of time had ended much too soon, but not this one. Despite my desperate hunger for him, I couldn’t see us doing this any way but slowly, sensually, one long breath at a time while the deepening kiss drew our bodies closer. Michael’s hand rested on the small of my back, his other in my hair, fingertips unsteady against me as he nervously, confidently, shyly, boldly explored my mouth.

  After an eternity, he drew back, breaking the kiss, but we didn’t let go of each other, and damn it, I was wrong—it had ended too soon after all.

  We held each other’s gazes, both of us breathing hard and my heart pounding in my chest. Where we went from here wasn’t as much of a foregone conclusion as I’d have hoped; that kiss might have taken every reserve of confidence he had tonight, and a single step of retreat could stop it all. As the aftermath stretched out almost as long as the kiss that had preceded it, I was sure with every passing second he was about to take that retreat. I was on the verge of beating him to it when his palm pressed into my back, and before I could make sense of anything, his lips were against mine again.

  He wasn’t so tentative now. Not so nervous. Quite the opposite, in fact, and I loved the way his mouth silently said, I’m going to kiss you like this, and you’re going to like it, because I did like it. In that moment, I didn’t think there was much I wouldn’t have done if he’d demanded it. Not that I could think much at all, because his tongue teased mine, his fingers grasped my hair…. Oh God, I wanted him.

  Panting and shaking, I pulled back and met his eyes. “We should go somewhere else. One of my….” I nodded toward the door. “My employees come up here sometimes.”

  Michael licked his lips. “Lead the way.”

  Without another word, I led him back to the stairwell and down to the hallway behind the upper club’s bar. I keyed open my office, pausing to glance up and down the hall to make sure none of my employees were back here. We were alone, so I pushed open the door and we stepped inside.

  The second the door was shut, Michael grabbed the front of my shirt and hauled me closer to him. I pinned him to the door, as much to catch my balance as to keep him right where I wanted him, and kissed him hungrily as he ground his erection against mine.

  Stubble hissed across stubble, denim whispered across denim, and we both breathed sharply, rapidly, groaning into each other’s mouths. God, this was even hotter than anything I’d imagined—I could barely believe this was real, that I was really tangling myself up in him and breathing him in.

  I panted against his lips and held on to his shirt with one shaking hand, my other arm braced against the door behind him.

  Michael ran the tip of his tongue across his lower lip. His pupils were blown, arousal written all over his wide eyes, but something else crept in, drawing his eyebrows together and loosening his grip on my shirt.

  I gently cupped the side of his face. “What’s wrong?”

  “Look, I….” He took a deep breath. “I haven’t done this. Not much, I mean.”

  “Which part?”

  “Any of it.” Color bloomed in his cheeks, and his grasp on my shirt loosened a little more. “The other night. When I brought someone home, that was….” He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. When he spoke again, the words came quickly and softly. “That was the first time I’ve ever been with a man.”

  My heart jumped. “Are you serious?”

  Michael nodded, more color rushing into his face. With a dry, forced laugh, he said, “Better late than never, right?”

  “Who said anything about late?” I combed my fingers through his hair and leaned in, seeking out his lips with my own. He hesitated at first, drawing back from me a little, but before I could pull away too, he curved his hand around the back of my neck and returned my kiss.

  And abruptly, he pulled back and pressed himself against the door, swearing under his breath.

  “You all right?” I asked.

  “Nervous.” He swept his tongue across his lips and avoided my eyes. “This….” He laughed softly. “It’s ridiculous, but this… it scares me to death.”

  “Do you really want to do this?” Please let his answer be yes, and please let him mean it. My heart shifted into overdrive when his lips brushed mine and he whispered, “More than you can imagine.”

  His kiss backed him up, and I believed him.

  I let my hand drift down his side, pausing at his belt, and when he shivered and his kiss intensified, I slid that hand between us.

  Michael broke away with a moaned “Oh God.”

  My fingers found his zipper pull. “This okay?”

  He nodded, wriggling against me as I opened his zipper. Closing his eyes, he exhaled hard and reached between us. I thought he might shove me away, but instead, he made a frantic, shaking attempt to unbuckle his belt. Since he was struggling, I took over. I finished what he’d started, and as my fingers slid into his jeans and boxers, Michael shivered again. I closed my hand around his thick cock, and a single thought nearly dropped my legs right out from under me.

  Please, God, let him be a top.

  I needed this man to fuck me. Soon. But first….

  I went to my knees and took his cock into my mouth, goose bumps springing up along my spine as Michael released a low, throaty groan.

  “Oh my God,” he breathed. “Jesus, Jason….” He grasped my hair, tugging hard enough to make my scalp sting. I bobbed my head faster, both to give him more and to make him pull my hair even harder. I was dizzy with arousal, and every moan and curse encouraged me. When his breath caught, I was surprised I didn’t come myself.

  The floor vibrated beneath my knees, and in my mind’s eye, I saw everyone downstairs on the dance floor, bodies moving together in time with the bass, with every thrumming beat that reverberated through me. Without realizing it, I’d fallen into the same rhythm as the music, and I moved with the pulsing beat the way the clubgoers did, and I imagined them getting closer to
each other, touching and undulating, searching each other for the heat that crackled over their heads in the confines of my office. Hands sliding over clothes the way my supporting hand slid up the side of Michael’s leg. Lips parted to release hot, ragged breaths like the ones Michael released as his fingers tightened in my hair.

  The beat quickened. Intensified. Or maybe that was my blood in my ears. Whatever it was, it drove me on, and I stroked Michael faster and teased him with my lips and tongue, and his knee trembled beneath my other hand. One of us groaned, but I didn’t know who because I was too fucking turned on to care.

  Michael barely made a sound, just a deep, almost inaudible groan, but every soul in the building had to have felt his release. We must have sent a shockwave rippling through the club—blowing out speakers and bulbs, shattering bottles and glasses—in the same moment his semen flooded my mouth.

  I sat back on my heels and swept my tongue across my lips as I gazed up at him. His eyes were closed, his head resting against the door, and he didn’t look down when he spoke.

  “Fucking Christ. I want to return the favor.”

  He didn’t ask. He didn’t suggest. Nervous and inexperienced or not, the undercurrent of his voice was bold and demanding, as if it was a foregone conclusion that we would leave this place, and he would return the favor, and we would have sex before this night was over. That kind of presumptuousness usually put me off, but from him, it was the single most arousing thing I’d ever heard.

  So we got the fuck out of there.

  Chapter 14

  WE LEFT, but we didn’t leave together. Michael went first, and as soon as he was gone, I slipped behind the first-floor bar and found Brenda in the back room.

  “You mind closing tonight?” I asked.

  She looked up from pulling a box of margarita salt off a shelf. “I thought your shoulder was doing better today.”

  “It was.” I grimaced. “But… you know how it is.”

  She scowled. “You really need someone to look at that thing, Davis. You’re not going to be able to move if it keeps up.”

  “Yeah, we’ll see.” With a little luck, I wouldn’t be able to move tomorrow morning. Such was the plan, anyway, which meant it was time to get the fuck out of here. With Brenda at the helm of Lights Out, I made a quick escape and damn near busted my ass twice on the way down the back steps.