by J. K. Hogan
The warm body that had been pressed against his back disappeared and was replaced by another one. This one was more athletic than beefy. Secretly, Justice liked the feel of the new guy much better, so he showed his appreciation by grinding up against the hardness that rubbed his ass.
Justice smiled when he heard a stifled groan and felt the guy pump his hips just slightly. He gasped when a strong arm wrapped around to hook his neck in a solid grip; not enough pressure to cut off his air, but enough to conjure some hot restraint imagery in his wild imagination.
He couldn’t hold in the shudder. Turning his head as much as he could with the arm around his neck, Justice caught sight of them in one of the mirrored columns that studded the dance floor. There was a flash of recognition at the exact moment a gruff voice whispered in his ear.
“You didn’t call.”
Nic.
“Accidentally t-took a shower. W-washed off the number,” Justice stammered.
Nic only grunted his understanding. His arm squeezed a little tighter, and Justice could feel the other hand slipping around his waist, sliding along his abs.
“I’ve waited two days to get at you. I’m not waiting anymore.”
The puffs of air across his ear from Nic’s words caused goosebumps to break out along Justice’s neck. “T-two days?” He was befuddled, his brain cloudy with lust. “You only gave me your number yesterday.”
“Since the plane. I’ve wanted you, ever since your tight little ass landed in my lap. Literally.” That hand reached the waistband of Justice’s jeans, began unfastening them. “I’d like a repeat performance. With much less clothing.”
“Oh God.”
Nic hummed in his ear, and Justice felt his hand slide inside his pants. It stuttered to a stop when, Justice imagined, Nic realized that he wore nothing underneath.
A deep breath gusted across Justice’s ear, and he couldn’t take it any longer. Bowing his back so that his ass continued to massage Nic’s erection, Justice turned his head and strained to reach Nic’s mouth. He grabbed a handful of the man’s hair and yanked him down for a messy, over-the-shoulder kiss. They barely reached. Their tongues tangled, dueling for control.
Justice’s breath hitched when Nic gripped his hard cock and gave it one long pull. Right there on the dance floor. He groaned and leaned back harder against Nic, rubbing against him shamelessly. It was so out of character for him, offering himself up like a bitch in heat, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He hadn’t been this turned on in…well, ever.
Abruptly, Nic released him. Justice mourned the warmth of not only the hand, but the rest of Nic’s body. Grabbing his wrist, Nic spun him around until they were almost eye to eye.
“Zip up, Baby. I’m taking you back to the boat. We’ll finish this party privately.”
Justice knew the words made sense, his lust-addled brain just couldn’t compute them. “I…um…what?”
“You. Me. A bottle of champagne in the owner’s cabin on the San Valentino.”
He said it as though it explained everything. And maybe it did. When Justice shook his head to clear it, Nic had already begun to fight his way through the crowd. He stopped and looked over his shoulder, aiming a sinful look at Justice.
“You coming?”
Justice was awkward and anxious, true, but he wasn’t stupid. “God, yes,” he mumbled before hustling to catch up.
* * * *
Nic didn’t have a plan. He didn’t know exactly what he was going to do with his airplane boy once he had him cornered, but he knew he had to get him alone. He’d been rock hard since he met the kid, but it wasn’t even just about the attraction. He was intrigued by Justice, with his quirks and his blushing, and whenever they were together, they had a kind of chemistry that practically crackled in the air —the kind that you just didn’t ignore.
By the time Justice gathered his wits and caught up, Nic was jumping out of his skin. He had to get that man home, and in less clothing. Putting a hand on the small of Justice’s back, he guided him out of the crowded club.
Once they were on the curb, Nic turned to face Justice. His knees went weak at the expression of dazed debauchery on the other man’s face. He cleared his throat a couple of times before he could speak. “Wait right here. I’ll flag down the cab.”
Nic wasn’t ashamed of the fact that he’d booked a taxi from the app on his phone the minute he’d seen Justice. No way was he going to allow all of the club rats and gym bunnies climb all over his man.
He caught sight of the little yellow and blue Chevy Volt waiting at the curb, and motioned for Justice to follow. “Union Marina, please,” he told the driver while Justice caught up.
When Justice slid onto the back seat next to him, hip to hip, Nic felt a flurry of butterflies in his chest. When was the last time he’d felt that way about a man. Maybe never. Definitely not since Colin, anyway.
Nic frowned at that thought, and he felt Justice’s warm hand rest on his thigh and squeeze.
“You okay?” Justice asked. “Having second thoughts?”
Nic’s brow furrowed in confusion until he realized that Justice must have noticed his expression. “God, no. My mind just wandered there for a second.”
Justice raised his eyebrows. “Obviously to nowhere good.”
“Lord, you have no idea.”
The young man nodded and leaned back against the soft upholstery in the back of the car. “No…but I’d like to,” he answered with a small smile. “Someday, maybe.”
“Maybe.” Nic returned the smile with one of his own, and damned if he wasn’t kind of hoping that Justice would stick around long enough to find out those things about him.
They settled into a comfortable silence, both content to sit with the anticipation and promise of whatever was to come.
Chapter Ten
It always started with the cold sweat. He could feel it first on his temples, then on the back of his neck, and finally his forehead. After that came the shakes, and the dizziness. And always, the nausea.
Oh God, not now. Please not now, Justice thought. He’d been flying high on endorphins, pheromones, and sweaty, sexy man when he’d gotten in the cab. Once Nic fell silent and Justice was no longer distracted by his deep, smooth voice, he began to think. This was never, ever a good idea.
He thought about how he had left the comforting anonymity of the club and was venturing into unfamiliar territory —territory in which he would be the center of attention. No matter how much he liked Nic, desired him, simple attraction wasn’t going to rewire his brain.
Justice clenched his hands in the fabric of his jeans. The panic always escalated quickly, sometimes even too quickly for medication. He feared this was one of those times. He focused on deep breathing, stared out the front window to watch the city pass by.
It was a slippery slope, because he felt better if he knew he was moving toward something, but motion-sickness often accompanied the anxiety, so he couldn’t look out the side windows.
He snuck a glance at Nic out of the corner of his eye. Nic was looking out of his own window, relaxed and paying Justice no mind. Not great for a date, but perfect for a panic attack.
Justice recognized the marina as the cab pulled in, and his heart kicked into overdrive. Soon they’d no longer be moving. The attention would be on him again. Nic would expect him to be somewhat sociable or, at the very least, functional.
The cab came to a stop and Nic paid the man. Justice was too freaked out to bother to offer. In a gesture that should have been romantic, Nic came around and opened Justice’s door for him. However, to Justice, it was pressure. It was focus. His vision swam, and he prayed he didn’t pass out when he stood up.
Once he was out of the cab, he swayed on his feet and had to lean against Nic. How fucking embarrassing. Nic just smiled and put his arm around his shoulders, as if he thought Justice had done it on purpose.
He wished. As it was, the longer he tried to hide his condition from Nic, the more pressure he fel
t, which caused him to panic more. It was a vicious, bitchy, circular cycle.
By the time they reached the San Valentino’s berth, Justice was hyperventilating, but trying to do it quietly. He knew he’d failed at hiding it when he felt Nic tense beside him. Justice forced himself to meet his eyes, and he saw nothing but concern.
“You okay? You’re not having second thoughts are you?” Nic repeated Justice’s earlier words.
“Um…huh? No. No.” He couldn’t stop the babbling, it was another thing that happened during the attacks. “Um, I just. It’s kind of hot and…I’m not feeling all that well…” He was about to ask Nic to call him a cab home, but there was still enough of the longing there to make him not want to end their night. Time to suck it up, big boy. “Could…could I just have a glass of water? I think I should sit down.”
“Yeah, sure. C’mon, let’s get up on deck and I’ll get you set up.” He took Justice’s hand and led him to the stepladder. His hand was warm and calloused, and even in his current state, Justice couldn’t help but want to feel them on other parts of his skin.
Nic climbed the stepladder first, in case he needed to help pull Justice up. Justice reached out to him from the second step with what tried to be a smile but was more like a wince. “Thanks.”
“All aboard,” Nic said, giving him another drop dead smile.
* * * *
Nic was worried. Justice was fine when they got in the car. After they chatted for a bit, Nic had zoned out until they got to the marina. Justice had gotten a little cuddly when they were walking from the cab to the boat slip. But Nic heard labored breathing beside him, so he stopped to take a good look at Justice.
The kid was absolutely deathly, pure Egyptian cotton, pasty white. His skin was clammy. The hair at his temples was wet, and his eyes were as large as Kennedy half-dollars.
The captain’s quarters were behind the galley, so Nic snagged an ice-cold bottle of water from the fridge, then led Justice back to his room. His room was fairly large and well-appointed, considering it was on a boat. There was even a king-sized bed —though it was made by combining two twins.
He had a couple of armchairs, one of which he assumed Justice would use. But instead, he paced. And panted. And paced some more. Finally, he took a small, circular pill divider out of his pocket. Shaking one out, he tossed it back dry before chugging a mouthful of water. And then he paced some more.
“Um…don’t you want to sit down?” Nic asked, feeling lost and just a little insecure. Had he done something wrong?
Justice was visibly trembling. “No, I…I just have to keep moving until the meds kick in. Otherwise, I’ll pass out, or throw up or something.”
He wouldn’t meet Nic’s eyes. The way he was acting, Nic wasn’t sure if he shouldn’t try and take Justice to a hospital. He was getting kind of scared that the guy was going to drop dead in his bedroom.
“I’m sorry. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything but, um…what’s happening?”
Justice closed his eyes and took a deep, long breath, and his jittery motion seemed to calm slightly. He finally looked at Nic, and Nic was struck by just how miserable and alone he looked.
Justice gingerly sat on the bed, and after a brief pause, he lowered his head to the pillow so that he was lying down. He stretched out and flung an arm over his eyes.
“No, I’m sorry,” he said, so quietly that Nic barely heard. “This is so fucking embarrassing. This is why I never go out.”
Nic moved to sit on the bed beside him, sliding back until his back was against the headboard. “Maybe you should tell me about it. Might make you feel better.”
“Yeah. I usually feel better when I’m around people who know about my…problem. Less pressure to hide it, I guess.”
“Okay.” Nic wasn’t sure what the proper response was, so he simply waited for Justice to continue.
“My official diagnosis is Acute Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Panic Disorder, and mild-to-moderate Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah.” Justice squinted at Nic. “It’s not a good combination, trust me. My own diagnosis is that I’m just batshit crazy. I used to be worse actually. I didn’t know what was happening when I was younger. Back then, little was known about these kinds of behavioral disorders. They usually got blamed on some other problem. You know, like how the symptoms of ADHD often get blamed on a lack of focus or willingness in school.
“Anyway, even after I finally got counseling, I was really opposed to medications. I didn’t want to become a drugged up zombie —something I’d seen happen too often to people, especially depressed kids whose parents make them take the meds.
“But it got to where I couldn’t function in my daily life, with the added pressure of being gay on top of everything. So now I have a daily med protocol, and then the stuff I take for panic attacks.”
“Christ,” Nic hissed. His heart went out to the guy. With all the crap that he had, it was a wonder he went out at all. “So you were anxious about going out with me? You don’t have to be, I’d never do anything to hurt you.”
Justice was shaking his head before Nic finished the sentence. “I know that. Believe me. You see, this isn’t a feeling. It’s a condition, a disorder. If it doesn’t make any sense to you, it’s because there’s no sense to be made of it. It just is…it’s what I live with.
“The top three things people say to me when they find out about I’m having a panic attack are ‘calm down’; ‘what do you have to be anxious about?’; and ‘did I do something?’ The answers to those are ‘if I could calm down, I wouldn’t be having a panic attack’; ‘lots of things’; and ‘no.’”
“So I didn’t do anything?” Nic asked quietly. He hated asking, but that had been one of his fears.
Justice lifted his arm off of his eyes and gave Nic a sweet smile that sent his stomach flip-flopping. “No, of course not. But, in your case, thanks for asking. Anxiety disorders are rarely rational. A lot of people don’t even know what causes their anxiety and if they do, it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. I have things called triggers, and when something pulls the trigger —boom, panic.”
“Okay. Do you know what…pulled the trigger this time?”
Justice gave him a crooked smile and his cheeks turned pink. It was better than the ghostly pale he had been a few minutes ago. “I don’t usually do this kind of thing.”
“What? Date men?”
Justice’s eyes widened comically and he shook his head. “No, I’ve liked men as far back as I can remember liking anyone. What I meant was, I don’t usually go home with strangers. I’m not really a casual sex kind of guy.” Justice clapped his hand over his mouth, a gesture that Nic was coming to associate with him. “I mean, not that we’re…I wasn’t expecting…we don’t have to…fuck.”
“Exactly,” Nic said with a chuckle and watched the blush creep down Justice’s neck. “Strangers?” He put a hand over his heart and gave Justice a mock pained look. “I’m hurt. The plane, the bar, the boat…we’re practically old friends. Strangers.”
Justice honest to God giggled, and the sound warmed Nic’s heart. His goal had been to take the kid’s mind off the panic attack and it seemed to be working, though the meds probably had a bit to do with it as well.
Sobering just as quickly, Justice continued own with his explanation. “One of my triggers seems to be getting myself into unfamiliar situations, or situations I can’t control. No matter how much I might want to be in the situation.
“When I was a little kid, whenever I’d get invited to go somewhere cool like Six Flags or something, I’d get so excited…but, usually the day of, I’d have to beg off because I was feeling sick. My parents usually assumed I was faking because I didn’t want to go. There just wasn’t enough information out there about anxiety disorders back then.”
“That sounds terrible,” Nic said sincerely. He wanted to steer the conversation away from the anxiety and back onto safer ground. “Is t
here anything we —I can do to make you more comfortable?”
“Just talk. Act normal. Knowing you know will make it better, but if you just talk to me, it will help me calm down. It may not always seem like I’m listening, but I am. Once I start babbling on like a crazy person, you’ll know I’m starting to come down.”
“Talk. Okay. What do you want to talk about?” He probably shouldn’t ask that. What if Justice couldn’t think in his state of mind? What if it made him more anxious?
Justice took another of many deep breaths and closed his eyes. Nic slid down and turned over, so that he was lying parallel to Justice, facing him. Justice pushed a damp, flopping curl off of his forehead and managed a weak smile.
“Well, I have been wondering one thing.”
“Shoot.”
“I could be wrong, but you don’t look like a millionaire. Um, no offense. How were you able to buy this huge yacht and start your own charter business?” He ducked his head into the pillow. “That’s probably rude, isn’t it? The anxiety disorder makes me a bit socially inept.”
God, he was freaking adorable. Nic already wanted to keep him, and damned if that wasn’t scary. “I’m not easily offended. Believe it or not, I get asked that a lot. My father was in the Navy, and was sent to Vietnam. He was so young when he enlisted, when he came back, he didn’t have a lot of prospects.
“He was working at the Pike Place fish market when he met Alfred Maddox. Alfred was a former Navy captain who ran a charter business. He sort of took Dad under his wing, and Dad went to work as a shipman on this very yacht. He saved his money, barely spent a dime before he met my mom, and eventually bought in as Alfred’s partner.
“When Al was ready to retire, he turned the day to day running of the business over to my dad and became more of a silent partner. Five years later he passed away and deeded the boat to Dad.”
