Chris rolled over and turned on the lamp. He picked up the bottle. “Hydrocodone, huh?”
“Not recreational,” Marty said. He knew the dangers of addiction. He’d seen it with other wounded soldiers. He made sure he only took the pills when the pain was unmanageable. Like now. Another crippling spear shot through his thigh.
“Man, you’re in a lot of pain, aren’t you?”
Marty grimaced when he tried to smile. “I’m managing. Some days are worse than others.” Marty popped the lid and shook out one pill. He threw it to the back of his throat and swallowed. When he handed the bottle back to Chris, the blond’s jutting erection drew Marty’s attention. “We should probably do something about that.”
Chris grinned. “I appreciate you thinking of me, but I’m pretty sure you’ve had enough for one night.”
“Thank you,” Marty said through a flood of relief and gratitude. The pill would kick in soon, but the pain made it hard to concentrate. All he wanted now was the uninterrupted sleep his orgasm had promised. “I mean it.”
Chris laid down next to Marty, curling against him, careful not to disturb his right leg. “Don’t mention it.”
Chapter 9
Seriously?
When Chris woke up, he was alone in a bed. His clothes were neatly folded on the bedside stand, and Marty was gone. He and Marty had talked for almost an hour before Marty fell asleep at four-thirty. He told Marty about his father, the funeral, and his mom’s request. And Marty had told him about the big decision he had to make. Selfishly, Chris had wanted to urge Marty to get out of the military. He wanted to find out where things could go between them. Stupid. The guy wasn’t even gay, and if he was, he certainly wasn’t out and proud. What the hell had Chris been thinking?
A hollow emptiness formed in his gut. This was definitely going to end with bi-curious regret. Fuck! He’d allowed his vulnerability to show with Marty and waking up alone hurt like a kick in the gut. He touched his fingers to his head. The bump still throbbed, but nothing he couldn’t handle. He’d be fine.
It was nine a.m. according to Jay’s clock. An early Sunday morning. The family night for his father was in the evening, and the funeral would happen tomorrow. Enough time for him to make it back to Oak Grove before they planted the old man in the ground—if he decided to go. God, he didn’t want to go.
The scent of a dark roast coffee drifted down the hallway. An unwelcome hope washed over Chris. He quickly showered, dressed, and then followed his nose to the kitchen. Ridiculous as he felt, he wanted to look good for Marty. His stomach danced just thinking about the hot soldier. He pulled himself up straight and tried to settle his nerves as he pushed his way into the kitchen.
Chris couldn’t keep the frown off his face when he saw it was Jay, not Marty, who sat at the breakfast bar drinking coffee and staring at his tablet. Did he know Marty and Chris slept in the same bed? Would he care? Chris decided to play it cool. If Jay knew, fine, but if he didn’t, Chris couldn’t bring himself to out Marty.
“Morning.”
Jay looked up from his paper. “Coffee?”
“Sounds good.”
Jay pulled a mug off a hook by the pot and filled it three-quarters to the top. “Cream or sugar?”
“Nah.” Chris smiled. “I like coffee in my coffee.” How many times had he used that same line on a random hook up? “Black is fine.”
“How’s your head this morning?”
“I think I’ll survive.” Chris sipped the offered cup. Damn, it was good coffee. “Thanks for letting me stay here. I’ll get out of your hair.”
“Marty is the one who needs the thanks. All I did was agree to it.” Jay looked at Chris with knitted brows. “By the way, do you know where he went this morning?”
The question startled Chris. Marty hadn’t been at the apartment when Jay got home. Shit. Had sex with Chris freaked him out so badly he’d left town without word to anyone? Even his own brother? “I dunno. Just woke up. You’re guess is as good as mine.”
“Hmm.” Jay put his tablet down. “I’m really sorry to hear about your father. Do you need some time off this week?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think I’ll go to the funeral.”
“You weren’t close?” Jay shook his head. “Sorry. None of my business.”
“No. It’s okay.” Chris had already had this discussion with Marty. He warmed as he thought about the way Marty held him while he confessed his family drama. His father’s death, after four years of no contact, shouldn’t hurt as much as it did. “We weren’t close.”
“Well, if you need the time off…” Jay let the question linger.
“He’ll need the next three days.” Marty—clean-shaven and wearing fitted low-slung jeans, black boots, and a black T-shirt—stood just inside the kitchen jangling some keys in his right hand.
Chris’s stomach fluttered. A rush of adrenaline swept through him at the sight of Marty. God, he looked like a fucking dream. Chris resisted the urge to pinch himself. Instead, he clenched his fingers to stop his hands from shaking.
Jay poured his brother a cup of coffee and slid it across the bar. “Where’ve you been?”
“I went and rented a car. I’m going to take Chris home for his dad’s funeral.”
Chris and Jay simultaneous blurted. “Seriously?”
Chapter 10
Do I Get A Say In This?
“You’re wearing a hole in the carpet.” Marty shook his head as Jay paced back and forth in his bedroom.
He sat on the edge of the bed, his palms pressed into the mattress. He closed his eyes briefly while he imagined feeling the residual heat lingering from Chris body. He wasn’t ready to confess he had a thing for Chris, not to his brother. Marty’s feelings weren’t the point. Even if nothing more ever happened between Chris and him, he wanted to help. His father’s death might not have physically wounded Chris, but it was a wound all the same. Marty had to help him. It was the only solution. Any other scenario brought on a heart-pounding panic.
Jay snorted and threw his hands in the air. “What is going on in that head of yours?”
Marty had had enough of his brother’s stewing. He wasn’t a child. He could make his own decisions about when, where, and how he lived his life. “If Chris doesn’t go to his dad’s funeral, he’ll regret it.”
“Why do you even care?”
“Why don’t you?” Marty rubbed his palms over his face. “Maybe that wasn’t fair. But the guy needs a friend, and frankly, it feels good to think about someone other than myself for two seconds.”
Jay put his hands on his hips and stared down at Marty. “So, this is what you want to do. How you want to spend your leave? Going to a stranger’s funeral.”
Marty could hear the resignation in Jay’s voice. It brought a small smile to his lips. “I’ll be back on Wednesday, and we’ll still have the rest of the week to hang out. Besides, as long as you have your Doctor Feelgood around, I don’t think you’ll be lonely.
Jay rolled his eyes and held out his hand. Marty took it, letting Jay pull him to a stand. “You could have borrowed my truck, you know.”
“I made the decision. I didn’t want to make it your problem.”
“Do I get a say in this?” Chris asked.
Marty’s mouth went dry when he noticed Chris standing in the doorway. He wore a frown that creased his brow and made his lower lip jut just a fraction. He swallowed hard, remembering how those lips felt pressed against his own lips—how they felt wrapped around his cock. He pushed the image from his brain before his dick got completely hard.
He could read the confusion and anxiety in Chris’s expression. He hadn’t been trying to make the situation more difficult for Chris. Just the opposite. Chris’s voice had held so much pain when he’d talked about his parents. Marty wanted to help give him the closure he hadn’t gotten while his father still lived.
“I’m going to Oak Grove for a funeral.” Marty shook his head as he shouldered past both Jay and Chris. “I
can take you, or I can go by myself. So, yes. You do get a say.”
Chapter 11
Nailed You
Driving up the highway, only a few hours from his hometown, Chris allowed the surrealness of the situation to envelope him. Marty hadn’t said more than a few perfunctory words to him since they’d stopped at Chris’s apartment to pick up a few of his things for the two-day trip, and he’d made a point of not looking at Chris. The silence and distance lingered between them—a thick and heavy barrier. Did Marty already regret his decision to take Chris home? They barely knew each other. They weren’t friends, and one night didn’t make them lovers.
Chris pursed his lips, steeling his courage to give Marty an out. “About last night. It doesn’t have to mean anything. Just two people hanging out, hooking up. It’s not a big deal.” He snapped his mouth shut and swallowed hard. God, he sounded like a rambling imbecile. Marty’s white knuckles and seriously drawn brows indicated Chris was making things worse not better. “Look. One time doesn’t mean your gay or anything. I was sad. You were sad…or whatever. We helped each other. End of story. No reason to feel bad or guilty. It’s not like I’m going to be heartbroken if you don’t want me.”
Hearing his own words, the possible truth of them, hit Chris like a punch to the gut. “I hope that’s not why you’re taking me to my dad’s funeral. Because you feel guilty about what we did.”
The car slowed, and Marty flipped the right blinker. He pulled them over to the side of the highway, put the car in park, and turned his head until his gaze fell on Chris.
Chris, who had some experience with the fight or flight reflex, was suddenly in flight mode. He should’ve kept his mouth shut! Marty looked like he was ready to beat the crap out him, and considering his ranger training, Chris had little chance against him.
When Marty undid his seatbelt and turned his body to face the passenger seat, Chris pressed his back against the door. Marty leaned over the console between them, until his face hovered inches from Chris’s. Chris tucked his chin and closed his eyes, bracing for the punch.
His eyes fluttered open when he felt the unexpected warm press of Marty’s lips against his own. Not the punch he was expecting, but just as hard of a knockout. Marty’s eyes had softened at the edges, but he still looked angry when he pulled back.
“I’ve wanted to do that since I walked in on you having coffee with Jay this morning. Not kissing you before now has been the hardest part of my day.”
Stunned, Chris said nothing when Marty sat back in his seat, put his seatbelt on and started the car. “Have I cleared up your confusion?”
Chris shook his head and smiled. “Not at all.”
Chris undid his own seatbelt and leaned over the driver side, positioning himself chest to chest with Marty. He palmed Marty’s cheek. God, those soulful whiskey-colored eyes melted Chris into a puddle. Marty’s every silence and word, every stillness and movement—all seemed deliberate and unhurried. This was not an impulsive man. He couldn’t be to do what he had to do as an Army Ranger. Yet, what Marty was doing for Chris—with Chris—was as impulsive as it got.
Chris drew his thumb across Marty’s full lower lip. A thin white scar ran through, creating a subtle divide. The scars on Marty’s neck, chest, and right leg were obviously noticeable—the one on his lip seemed different. “Did you get this when you got the others?”
Marty smiled, the right corner of his mouth tugging up a little higher on the left. “No. My first war wound. Got it when I was seven on a family camping trip.” Marty nipped at Chris’s thumb. “Dad was teaching us to skip stones, and Jay couldn’t quite get the hang of it. He nailed me.”
“Nailed you, huh?” Chris grinned and wiggled his brow. “Sounds fun.”
Marty wrapped his arms around Chris, his strong fingers kneading the muscles in Chris’s back. “First. Yuck. That’s my brother. Second, I’ve been dying to touch you all day.” He reached around Chris’s shoulder and stroked the hair above his ear before tracing the outer edge. “I want to touch every part of you.”
Chris’s cock strained against his jeans. He wanted to fuck and be fucked by Marty. The way Marty had responded, coming so quick when Chris had fingered him the night before, he wondered how quick he could make Marty by fucking him. Mentally, Chris shook his head. He doubted if the tough, badass ranger had any desire to bottom, but damn, a boy could dream.
He bit his lower lip to stifle a moan when Marty traced his earlobe. Marty pushed Chris’s head to one side and kissed the hollow of his neck.
“I want to kiss every part of you,” Marty whispered against Chris’s skin. “Every second I don’t have my hands…” He stroked down Chris’s back to his thigh. “Every second I don’t have my lips on you…” Marty’s soft lips and lightly grazing teeth dance along Chris’s neck, to his jaw, and finally, to his mouth.
Chris opened for Marty, leaning in, drinking him deep into the kiss. Marty rubbed his hand over Chris’s groin and gently squeezed. He started to unbutton Chris jeans when…HOOOONK! A car horn blared as it zoomed past them on the road.
Chris jumped back, his head hitting the rearview mirror. “Ow. Fuck.”
Marty laughed. “I think we better move this somewhere else.”
“It’s two hours until Oak Grove. I don’t know if I can wait that long.”
Marty chewed the inside of his cheek for a second then nodded at a farm road up ahead. “There’s a cornfield.”
“Seriously?”
Marty shrugged. “There is a lot of acreage to get lost in.”
“All right.” Chris settled into his seat. “I’m game.”
Chapter 12
So Much More
Hot Damn! Marty’s heart raced and his palms sweat. In all his combat missions, he could not remember a time where he felt more nervous. He’d managed to find a secluded area near a copse of trees on the back end of the cornfield. He pulled the car down into a small ravine and put it in park. They were far enough back that the highway was a distant roar. Were they really going to do this? Make out…more than make out. In the middle of farmland. All he could think about was the night before, coming in Chris’s mouth while Chris put a finger in his ass. It had felt so…unexpectedly good. He couldn’t stop thinking about how it felt to have Chris enter his body there. He wondered what it said about himself that he’d liked it so much.
Did it really matter? He’d never had a problem with Jay being gay. Though, he certainly didn’t want to know if his brother liked it up the ass. Was that prerequisite to liking men? Was that the appeal? No. Marty knew he felt more for Chris than just the physicality of what was going on between them.
Marty looked out the window. He’d lied when he told Chris the worst part of his day was not kissing him when he saw him in the kitchen. The worst part of his day had been when he’d left Chris alone in bed. He’d finally slept without the dreams. How could one man have such a calming and unsettling effect on him all at the same time? He rubbed his hands on his jeans and turned to Chris…who was getting out of the car. “Where are you going?”
Chris ducked his head inside the door. “Come on.”
Marty opened his side and got out. The corn hadn’t began to silk yet. It was too early in the summer, but he could still smell a sweetness on the air. Chris met him around the front. He placed his palms on Marty’s chest and guided him to the hood.
When Marty leaned back, Chris situated himself between his thighs. He placed his hands on Marty’s hips. “God, you’re so fucking hot. You don’t even know what you do to me.”
Marty’s rigid erection felt almost painfully bound inside his jeans. Having Chris this close, feeling this amazing man’s warm breath against his skin electrified Marty with longing. “I think I know. You fuck me up, Chris.” He rested his forearms on Chris’s shoulders and kissed him. “I mean that in the best way.”
“Of course.” Chris grinned. He drew his hand down Marty’s chest, every caress of his fingers sending a trill of pleasure that accumulate
d at Marty’s groin. “I can’t believe how lucky I am right now.”
“How’s that?”
“Don’t you know it’s every boy’s fantasy to play with an army man?”
“Is that all I am? A fantasy?”
“I don’t know. Is that all you are?” Chris moved his hands to the back of Marty’s pants and looped his thumbs under the band. “You tell me? You’re the one who has the big decision to make. I’m here. This is my life. You’re the one who has breezed in making me feel things I’ve never felt before.”
Warmth crept up Marty’s cheek, and he smiled. He pulled Chris to him until their groin pressed together. “I make you feel things, huh?”
Chris dug his fingers into Marty’s buttocks. “You bet your sweet ass. And let me tell you, it really is one sweet ass.”
God, Marty wanted Chris. Chris made him feel something he hadn’t felt in a very long time. Happiness. For more than two years, he’d been nothing more than a walking wounded. As he took in the intensity of Chris’s gaze, the pure intent in those clear hazel eyes, he finally understood—Chris was the first person since his injuries to see him as a man. “I love the way you look at me.”
“Like you’re a prime cut of beef I want to devour.”
Marty chuckled, a shiver of warmth running through him. “Yes, that way.”
“I like the way you look at me too.” Chris pulled Marty’s shirt up and placed his hand on Marty’s chest. “You’re breathing.”
“I really was checking your vital signs.”
“Seriously?”
“No. I wanted to touch you even before I knew I wanted to touch you.” Marty brought Chris’s hand to his lips and kissed his fingertips.
“I needed rescuing. It’s what you do.”
“Believe me. I want to do more than rescue you.”
“Oh, ya?” Chris leaned in and kissed Marty. A gentle press of lips.
Marty groaned with the painful awareness of his arousal. His tongue stroked inside Chris’s mouth, rejoicing when he felt Chris shudder. Opening his mouth more, he tried to drink Chris in, giving him everything and holding nothing back. He allowed himself to drown in the passion as the kiss grew more frantic with every passing second.
The Dirty Martini Page 4
