by Lynda Aicher
Carter chuckled as he lowered his hand. “Don’t worry about it.”
Easy for him to say.
Rock took care of the bill and they were exiting the restaurant a few minutes later. He made a quick check of his watch as he led the way out. Ninety minutes left. One-and-a-half hour of paid-for time to be filled by what?
He glanced around to see if anyone was paying attention to them as they walked toward the elevators. It was his move. He knew that. But the words weren’t coming.
“Should I grab those papers from your room before I leave?”
A relieved smile formed on his lips. The man was smoother than Rock. Experienced. “Yeah. That’s a good idea.”
The guilt was all his own. No one else would guess what Carter was or what might happen in his room when they got there. And the man’s coat was there. He had to come back up for that at least.
“Mint?” Carter held out a roll as they stepped into the elevator.
Rock accepted one out of pure worry. Did his breath stink? He wasn’t about to do the breath-in-the-palm test to find out. The elevator ride whizzed by in a blur and before he knew it they were entering his room. Now what? “Would you like a drink?”
“No,” Carter said from behind him. “Thank you.”
Rock crossed to stare out the window. He couldn’t face the man now that the moment was here. His heart was back to the rapid pace that warned of an impending heart attack or, worse, anxiety attack. He didn’t fucking have anxiety attacks.
The dark glass reflected Carter’s approach. The heels of his loafers clicked on the laminate before going silent as he hit the small stretch of carpeting that covered the sitting area under the window.
He didn’t need the visual to know Carter had stopped directly behind him. Every muscle in his body was tense with the anticipation of Carter’s touch. His stomach muscles were sucked in so tight his breaths came out in shallow intakes that barely filled his lungs. His hand tingled from the memory of the simple handshake earlier that had lasted longer than socially acceptable because he’d been unable to let go.
That voice in his head called him a chicken. He couldn’t even meet the man’s eyes in the window reflection. Yet all of his senses were reaching out to Carter. Wanting.
The deep, rich scent of cologne and man snaked around to fill his nostrils, surging to his groin. The heat of Carter’s body blanketed his back, countering the cold from the window that chilled his cheeks. A ghost of a breath blew across the hairs at the base of his neck, so different than the air wafting from the heater.
Intimate. Asking without speaking.
And still he didn’t move.
“Don’t ask, don’t tell?” Carter’s voice was close to Rock’s ear. Quiet.
A small shudder ran down the inside of Rock and he squeezed his eyes closed, jaw clenching to keep the reaction from showing. Desire filled out his dick, his boxer briefs trapping it momentarily in an uncomfortable bend that he endured as punishment.
He should answer Carter’s question. It was the easiest excuse. One he could use with validity. “Yes.” That single word barely required him to move his lips, but it drained him.
The touch came then. A small tracing with a single finger over the too-tight grip he had on his wrist behind his back. The rise and fall of the digit down the line of his thumb to follow the length of a finger to his wrist and back up another was unobtrusive. A whisper of connection that could be dismissed if he had the will to so.
“It’s not wrong.”
But it is. It was all wrong. Being here. Wanting this. Giving in to a desire he’d successfully denied indulging for seven years.
Carter ran that single finger back up the line of Rock’s thumb to play with the sensitive skin on the inside of Rock’s wrist. He tried not to react. His grip tightened until his pulse thumped insistently against the pads of his fingers. Goose bumps chased up his arm and traveled with lightning speed to harden his nipples into prickling buds.
“Do you want this, Rock?”
Did he?
He didn’t know what the fuck he wanted. No, that wasn’t right. He knew what he wanted, but he wasn’t sure if he could go through with it.
He realized then that his eyes were closed. Still hiding. He forced them open. There was no way he could avoid Carter’s eyes. They peered at him over his shoulder, assessing. Waiting for Rock to respond.
But could he? His throat was so constricted and dry he couldn’t gather enough saliva to make his voice work.
Carter held his gaze in the window as he took that final step forward, closing the small space that separated them. Rock’s hands were trapped between them, fist settling against the unmistakable ridge of Carter’s arousal.
He rested his hands on Rock’s upper arms and turned his head slightly, keeping his gaze on Rock’s. “What can I do for you?”
The low whisper was a gush of heat into Rock’s ear. He couldn’t stop his head from tilting into the sensation. But he couldn’t ask for it. Asking was equal to admitting.
Carter took the soundless invitation, his tongue sneaking out to trace the shell of Rock’s ear. It was a lazy trail around the outer edge that was a wet fire of stimulation. He pulled the lobe between his lips and suckled it lightly before grazing the edge of his teeth over the loose flesh and pulling away.
Rock’s breath was coming out in deep pants heavy enough to fog the window. His hand was still curled into a fist, the backs of his fingers sliding over Carter’s erection every time the man moved. He only had to open his hand to grab what was right there.
He didn’t.
“I want to touch you.” Carter spoke the words against Rock’s neck, his lips outlining each syllable.
Rock managed to swallow, but he still couldn’t speak. Was silence consent? He’d never had to agree in the dive bars. The blowjobs or quick hand jobs just happened. Always drunk. Always in the dark. Always excusable.
This wasn’t any of those things.
Carter licked a small pattern of circles along Rock’s neck, distracting him from his rambling thoughts. He hadn’t responded to any of Carter’s questions or statements, but the man persisted. Slowly. Each move done with a caution that gave Rock a chance to say no.
Carter slid his palms up the sides of Rock’s arms before smoothing them across his chest. The touch was firm, the pressure hard enough to mold over every dip and curve of his muscles. It was a blazing path of lava that burned through the layers of his clothes to singe his skin. How hot would the man’s touch be without the material between them?
Scorching, he was certain.
Surrounded by Carter, Rock could only stare at their reflection. The sight of him in another man’s arms was both erotic and terrifying. He’d given and received hugs from men before. This was more than a hug. In fact, this was his first intimate embrace with a man since he’d gotten caught kissing Nicholas when he was fourteen.
The one and only time he’d kissed another man on the lips.
Carter slid his hands down and deftly undid the button on Rock’s jacket. There was no way he could stop his abdominal muscles from contracting when Carter smoothed his palms across Rock’s stomach. The air hissed through his teeth as he sucked in his breath. It was only through force of will that he kept his head from dropping back to rest on Carter’s shoulder.
“Damn, you feel amazing.” The appreciation in Carter’s voice was mirrored in the thorough investigation his hands were making up and down Rock’s chest. “I can’t wait to see you.”
See him? Shit. The thought of being naked in bed with Carter had his pulse racing even faster. He didn’t bother to try and determine which emotion was causing the reaction. They were all too jumbled to decipher at that point.
The vein that ran down the underside of his cock throbbed, his knuckles continued to rub over Carter’s erection, yet he still couldn’t move. To move was to accept.
Heat and nerves swirled with him. Every place Carter touched was set ablaze with a need for mor
e and a desire to run. Blunted nails scraped over Rock’s nipples, tearing a gasp from his lungs. The tender buds responded almost instantly. They hardened more with each continued pass until the sensitive tips were aching for relief or more contact. He couldn’t decide which.
None of the women he’d been with had ever paid attention to his nipples. Not like this. Who the hell knew it would feel so fucking good?
“Your heart is racing.” Carter pressed his palm over the hard thump, each beat pounding into his palm. There was no way to deny it, so Rock stayed silent once again. “That is so damn hot.” His languid words flowed around Rock in the same rhythm that they were spoken. Deep, gruff and sensual.
This slow assault was completely out of his realm of experience. He was floundering as he never had before. He didn’t like how vulnerable it made him feel but couldn’t stop it. Unless he walked away.
Carter pressed a trail of wet kisses up the arch of his neck that timed with the descent of his hands over Rock’s abs, past his belt to the V of his groin. The slow back-and-forth rubbing just out of reach of his dick was a tease that almost had Rock twisting his hips to find that elusive touch.
It was Carter who rocked his hips, the long length of his erection running over the hard ridge of Rock’s knuckles in an up-and-down motion that ran from root to tip. Distracted, Rock flinched when Carter smoothed his palm over Rock’s erection. The firm press over his aching member was both a relief and another form of torture.
Carter gripped him. The blood rushed in to swell his dick until it was as hard as his name. The material of his pants rustled when Carter fisted the length and stroked.
Rock’s garbled groan was trapped in his throat, but his open-mouthed expression was unmistakable in the window. The blended furrow of pain and pleasure was marked on his brow. He couldn’t breathe, let alone think.
Fucking shit. It was heaven and hell.
Seven years since another man had touched him like this. But never like this. Others had stroked his cock, sucked it, but no one had ever lulled him with the gentle caress of seduction.
Carter’s moan of approval rumbled from his chest to vibrate against Rock’s ear. “You feel incredible.” He backed up his statement with another rock of his hips that matched the slide of his hand over Rock.
They were still fully clothed and his skin was damp with sweat, his shirt clinging to his back beneath his wool suit jacket. His head spun with the battle that warred between his mind and body. His breath labored once again in shallow pants that hitched at irregular intervals.
The slow thrust and glide of Carter’s erection over his knuckles mimicked the up-and-down slide of the man’s fist on his dick. Erotically timed in a motion that would’ve had them fucking if they were naked.
Fucking.
Carter fucking him.
Shit.
He spun out of Carter’s hold and was around the man, skating across the laminate flooring before conscious thought registered. It was too much. He couldn’t do that. It. Anything.
He was a fucking coward.
“This was a mistake,” he mumbled, his eyes roaming everywhere but at the man who still stood on the other side of the room.
“Hey. Rock,” Carter soothed. “It’s okay.”
“No.” Rock shook his head, a hard assertion that it was very far from okay. “It’s…” He shook his head again, backing up with each sharp inhale. “I’m sorry.” His head buzzed with the white noise that filled it. His vision closed, blackness dulling the edges as it tunneled in.
“Rock.”
You disgust me. The harsh slap of his father’s voice jarred his chin up. The confused but understanding expression on Carter’s handsome face brought him back to the present. There was no judgment that Rock could distinguish. Yet he couldn’t stop judging himself.
Carter took a step forward, his hands lax at his sides. Nonthreatening. “You did nothing wrong. I’m sorry I pushed.”
Maybe, but it didn’t stop him from feeling like it was all wrong. He was all wrong. Years of self-loathing soiled his blood. He dug into his pocket, pulled a few bills from his money clip and tossed them on the desk. “I’m sorry about this. It’s nothing you did.”
He was out the door and down the hall before Carter could say anything more. The door to the room closed behind him as he slammed into the stairwell. He couldn’t wait for the elevator. The risk of Carter following him was too high. He couldn’t deal with that. Not now.
Every flight down, every click of his heels on the metal stairs was a confirmation of what he already knew. He was a thirty-four-year-old man running from who he was. Too chicken to admit he liked men. Closeted for too many years to have any clue on how to escape the denial he’d been trapped in his entire life.
He wanted out. Thought he could do it tonight.
What a fucking joke.
Only he wasn’t laughing. Not even a little.
Chapter Three
A bright ray of light sliced through the crack between the drapes and managed to hit Carter right in the eyes when he blinked them open. His world turned white and he groaned, rolling away as he flung his arm over his face to block the sunlight.
The damn sun had been hidden behind snow clouds for days, and it had to pick the one day he didn’t get the damn drapes closed right to appear. What a crappy way to wake up, but it wasn’t the real reason for his foul mood.
Last night had ended in a shit-bomb of failure that had stunk worse than any of his first endeavors into the male escort business. Even now, his mind was still trying to pinpoint where he’d gone wrong.
The evening had been a slow dance to what had been setting up to be a spectacular finish until his client had rushed from the room, shame drenching him from head to toe. What the hell? He’d handled plenty of closet cases before. But none of them had ever been as deeply troubled as the strong, stoic ex-soldier. He couldn’t even guess at what had happened in the man’s past to have him running so hard from himself.
Shoving the blankets aside, he rolled out of bed and stalked to his closet. He didn’t mess up like that. After ten years in the business, he was an expert on giving every client what he wanted.
But he’d misread something last night that’d caused Rock to flee in a panic.
A glance at the time showed it was almost ten. Good. The gym would be half-empty, filled mostly with stay-at-home moms. If he hurried, he could be out of there before the lunch rush ambushed the place.
He grabbed a banana and a small carton of O.J. before heading into the bitter cold. The first inhale chilled his lungs but didn’t freeze them. That was an improvement over the previous month.
The gym was less than a mile from the condo complex. The short drive kept his mind from wandering back to the previous night, but there was little he could do to keep his thoughts at bay once he stepped onto the treadmill and started his daily five-mile run.
It was a routine he kept almost religiously. His body was his income. The better he looked, the more he made. Plain and simple. It was even more important since he’d hit his thirties. He wasn’t the studly young thing he used to be. There were dozens of punk kids who’d like to poach his client list. That wasn’t happening until he was ready for it.
Which was coming fast. Something he was desperately ready for and equally stressing over. He had four months left on his second five-year contract with the agency. It was time to get out.
Which meant sticking through whatever crap they dished out and keeping his nose clean until then. He hoped Rock didn’t call and complain about last night. Not that he’d done anything wrong. Hell, the man had given him a three-hundred-dollar tip for scaring him off. Yet another what the fuck.
Carter increased his speed, turned up the volume of his music and tried to outrun his thoughts. It rarely worked. He still tried.
Five miles and what seemed like second later, his thighs were burning and sweat covered his skin, making his T-shirt cling to his chest. He punched the button to decrease the speed
, settling into a cool-down pace as he caught his breath. A bead of perspiration dripped from his brow to splat on the spinning mat and he grabbed his towel to wipe his face. The solid thump of the club music pounding in his ears matched his heart rate, yet he didn’t feel like dancing.
A tall, fit brunette strolled past the bank of treadmills, her gaze trailing appreciatively over Carter as she passed. If he gave even a slight show of acknowledgment, she’d be chatting him up and extending an invitation for coffee or a protein drink from the little café attached to the gym. He easily dodged eye contact and focused on the treadmill controls until the belt slowed to a walk.
There was part of him that was glad he’d never thrown off the gaydar signals. At least the majority of the hetero population had never picked up on any. There were a number of gay men who had no problem though. Such as the overmuscled dude across the room who couldn’t keep his gaze from wandering Carter’s way. It would only take one direct, long stare and they could be hooking up for a quickie if he were even slightly interested.
He wasn’t.
He’d had enough quickies to satisfy him for the rest of his life.
A woman paused in front of his machine and he tried to ignore her by changing the music on his digital player. Damn it, he should’ve picked a treadmill that faced the windows instead of the weight area. Finally, he was forced to look up.
The blonde gave a small wave, backed by a bright smile and warm green eyes. Tank dampened with sweat from her workout, the infinity link choker shone bright and out of place around her neck. “Hey, Carter.” Her greeting was muffled behind his music, but he read her lips just fine.
He tugged his earbuds out and let his smile show. “Hi, Cali.” He stopped the machine and stepped off. It’d been awhile since he’d talked to his condo neighbor who lived a few doors down from him in the same building unit. “How’s it going?”
“Good.” She pushed back a piece of hair that’d fallen out of the stubby ponytail at her nap. “I’m ready for summer.”
