The Torches We Carry

by L. A. Witt

  I collapsed onto him, and he wrapped his arms around me again. For a while, we just lay there. I lifted my hips enough to let his cock slide out, but otherwise, we didn’t move.

  He ran his fingers through my hair. “Hope… hope you’re not expecting a third round tonight.”

  I laughed and kissed the side of his neck before I pushed myself up to look in his eyes. “Yeah, not happening.”

  We both chuckled, and he slid his hand into my hair as we kissed again.

  I had my eyes closed so I could kiss him, but I had a feeling I wouldn’t have been able to keep them open anyway. The day was definitely catching up with me now. There might have been a time in my life when I could do a trade show and still fuck the nights away, but that time was over. Pure need had driven me through two orgasms, but that was all I’d had, and now I was fading fast.

  “I’ve got about enough left for a shower,” I slurred, “and then I’m gonna be out for the night.”

  “You and me both.”

  “Join me?”

  “If I don’t, I’ll fall asleep before you’re done.”

  On shaky limbs, we got up and made it into the bathroom to clean off all the sweat and cum. After we’d showered, we collapsed back into bed.

  And my head had barely hit the pillow before I was out cold.

  Chapter 9

  Reuben

  Nothing in the world was better than waking up to the warmth of someone lying beside me, especially when I could still feel everything we’d done the night before.

  And nothing was worse than the cold realization that the person next to me was my ex-boyfriend. And coworker. And the man I’d fucked in front of my wife the night before we’d separated for good.

  Oh God.

  Last night had been so hot. The sex had been amazing. He’d been unreal. Now Marcus looked sexy as hell in the faint light coming in from outside. He was sprawled beside me, sleeping peacefully with stubble darkening his jaw. It should’ve been perfect.

  But what the fuck was I thinking?

  That Marcus had kissed me, that was what. Once he’d locked lips with me, I’d been… well, not helpless. I’d been just as much a part of last night as he had. That kiss had just knocked down all my inhibitions and reminded me of everything I’d been missing, and rational thought had gone out the window. Yeah, I’d gone into it with both eyes open, and deep down I’d known I’d probably regret it in the morning, but in the moment it had seemed worth it. I’d missed Marcus for years, and after the last several uncomfortable weeks, I’d needed everything that kiss in the elevator had offered.

  So… now what? And hell, what time was it? Marcus’s alarm hadn’t even gone off yet. What the fuck was I doing awake?

  Oh. Right. Getting knocked around by my conscience for stupidly fucking my coworker/ex-boyfriend. I hadn’t had time to think last night. By the time the dust had settled and we’d calmed down, he’d been asleep and I hadn’t been far behind him. So now, in the wee hours before we had to start another day of dealing with people, seemed like as good a time as any to agonize over it.

  I knew why, against my better judgment, I’d ended up in bed with him last night. Being attracted to Marcus had always been a no-brainer. The man was hot, and he kept getting hotter as he got older, so no shit I was attracted to him. Especially when there was a break in the tension between us, I just couldn’t resist going too far.

  But acting on it hadn’t been a good idea for a long, long time, and what the fuck had possessed me to think last night would be any better than December? There was too much baggage. Too much bullshit. Too many things I couldn’t say even when I wasn’t drooling over his dick. Since we’d arrived in Boise, we’d come back to some semblance of friendship, but that still felt precarious. Like the concrete of the foundation hadn’t set yet, and putting anything on top of it would bring the whole thing down.

  I sighed heavily. Damn, I wanted last night to be right, but the queasy knot in my stomach said that wasn’t likely. Everything felt all wrong and like we’d just done something we really, really shouldn’t have even thought about. It was possible I was just overthinking it, but I suspected once Marcus was awake, I’d know without a doubt that we’d fucked up.

  I didn’t have to wait long to find out—Marcus’s alarm made me jump, and with a grumble, he felt around blindly on the nightstand until he’d shut the thing off. For a moment, I thought he might’ve hit snooze and gone back to sleep even though he never did that, but then he felt around again and turned on the dim light between the beds. We both winced. After a moment, his eyes fluttered open. Slowly, they focused, and when they met mine, a sleepy smile formed on his lips.

  It didn’t last.

  After a couple of beats, the smile faded, and I could practically feel the horror as all the pieces came together in his head. What we’d done. Every reason why we shouldn’t have. How much more time we were stuck in close proximity. Okay, so I didn’t know if that was specifically what he was thinking, but I doubted I was too far off the mark. I knew him and I knew what we’d done. I could put two and two together.

  We fucked up, didn’t we?

  Without a word, Marcus sat up, and I couldn’t help noticing he’d inched toward the edge of the bed. Even though I’d been expecting that much or worse, my heart sank. Son of a bitch. We were back to where we’d been before we’d left for the trade show.

  Correction—we weren’t back to where we’d been before the trade show. Things were way more uncomfortable now. We had way too much left unsettled for us to be hooking up. Though we’d kind of straightened things out—enough to make it through the week without incident—all the awkwardness from before came crashing back in with reinforcements.

  Marcus reached for something on the floor. Then, as he stood, he pulled on his boxers. “I’m, uh, going to get ready to go downstairs.” He glanced at me. “I’ll meet you at the booth?”

  “Yeah. Be down in a few.”

  We didn’t look at each other while he quickly got ready for the trade show. Once he was shaved and dressed, he started to go, came back for his convention badge, and hurried out of the room.

  Cursing softly, I lay back across the bed where I’d fucked him senseless last night. Well, shit. What now?

  I hope you know how to come back from this, Marcus. Because I sure as shit don’t.

  ***

  Our booth seemed a hell of a lot smaller than it had yesterday. I seriously wondered a few times if the convention staff had come in during the night and squeezed all our displays and tables together. Had Marcus and I been bumping into and tripping over each other all week and I just hadn’t noticed?

  Not that it mattered. We couldn’t get out of each other’s way, and every time we stumbled or collided, the air between us turned even more awkward. Much more of this and people were going to start noticing.

  I tried like hell to focus on what we’d come here to do. Marcus handled all the schmoozing, and all I needed to do was talk about the technical aspects of Welding & Control Equipment’s product lines. I knew this stuff inside and out, so it should have been easy under even the most distracting conditions.

  Should have been.

  I’d never stumbled or fumbled my way through demos before. It was a good thing I wasn’t actually firing up the torches and doing any cutting or welding. I was pretty sure that would be an unmitigated call-911 type disaster today. Just going through the motions, explaining all the features, harping on all the reasons our design was superior to other companies—it was like one of those dreams of being back in high school and having to give a presentation, but not being able to remember any of the material. I seriously wouldn’t have been surprised to look down and realize I was in my underwear.

  When there was a lull, Marcus turned to me and cleared his throat. “So, um, there’s a demo going on for some new gas manifold designs. If you want to go check it out, I can hold down the fort.”

  “You trying to get rid of me?” The joke came out before I co
uld think twice.

  Our eyes locked, and the awkwardness ratcheted up so hard, I was amazed no one around us noticed.

  Marcus broke the staring contest, his cheeks darkening.

  I shifted my weight. “I think I’ll just go get some coffee. Do you, um, want any?”

  He shook his head without looking at me or making a sound.

  “Okay. Well. I’ll be back.” I left, and I hated myself for feeling relieved to put some space between us. Last night I couldn’t get close enough to him. Now this.

  The line at the coffee shop was way too short, and in no time, I was on my way back to the booth.

  Where did he say that manifold demo was? I had zero interest in the other company’s demo, but it was an excuse to stay out of the booth for a while.

  At that thought, my stomach got even heavier and sicker. Because nothing said glad we fucked last night like looking for the nearest available excuse to get away from each other.

  Son of a bitch…

  Chapter 10

  Marcus

  If there was one thing I’d learned in years of going to trade shows, it was this—tearing down a booth was like putting up wallpaper. A royal pain in the ass. Way more headache than it was worth. A minimum two-person job that was guaranteed to throw gasoline on any conflict simmering between those two people.

  Reuben and I didn’t have the trade show itself to hold our focus anymore, so in came that crushing post-con fatigue, which was really good at shortening fuses and making small jobs into huge ones. I’d had more than a few quietly heated arguments with the other people who’d come to shows with me, usually over stupid shit that wouldn’t have bothered any of us under normal circumstances.

  Except I’d never had to do this with someone I’d slept with, never mind someone with whom I’d now shared two regrettable sexual encounters in fairly rapid succession. I couldn’t even define everything I felt whenever I looked at him. There were so many emotions swirling together, they ceased to be their own feelings and turned into a single, combustible one—anger. Because anger hurt less than shame. Because lashing out was more palatable than breaking down. Because wanting to read him the riot act was less painful, less exhausting, and less futile than telling him how I really felt.

  In the interest of not damaging my professional reputation or losing my job, I kept that anger as far beneath the surface as I could. I didn’t speak unless I absolutely had to. I didn’t even look at him if I could help it.

  “Do you need help with the demo cases?” Reuben’s tone was flat, but somehow managed to mix in both boredom and uneasiness. The former was probably intended to hide the latter. Please don’t notice how wound up I am.

  You wouldn’t be this wound up and neither would I if we hadn’t—

  I cleared my throat and spoke carefully. “It takes two people to lift it once everything is in it. If you can pack everything, I’ll help put it in the van.”

  Reuben didn’t respond. He put the empty case on the cart the venue had provided, and started dismantling the demo equipment.

  Normally, I’d be hovering like a hawk or handling the demo stuff myself, but Reuben was already on top of it. Hovering would piss him off on the best of days.

  Besides, I reminded myself, he’d played a role in designing most of that equipment. He knew how to handle it without damaging anything.

  So I shut off my inner control freak and focused on my own task—rolling the banner so it wouldn’t get wrinkled and would fit into its container.

  Okay. We’d interacted without blowing up at each other. We could do this. Maybe. Hopefully. No, we could, damn it.

  We did have a couple of things working in our favor and keeping us from an explosive confrontation. First, Reuben’s allergy to drawing attention to himself unless he absolutely had to. Second, both of us having years of practice at (mostly) keeping our personal issues out of sight at work, even when it sucked.

  So, aside from a few loaded glances and terse comments through gritted teeth, we made it through tearing down the booth without anything actually happening. Which was good—neither of us needed our boss catching wind of us losing our shit at each other in front of half the industry. If someone had cared to look, they probably would have noticed the tension between us. God knew it felt about as subtle as a pissed-off bull about to be turned loose at a rodeo, but I supposed it was more obvious to me or Reuben than everyone else. They were all busy with their own booths, so I doubted we registered on anyone’s radar. I hoped, anyway.

  That tension wasn’t going to contain itself forever, though. We still had one night together in the hotel room followed by tomorrow’s painfully long drive back to Seattle. Throughout the entire process of breaking down our displays and packing our van, I dreaded the moment we were alone together. By mid-afternoon, I wasn’t even sure we’d make it back to the room. On our eightieth or two-thousandth or whatever trip to the van, we suddenly found ourselves alone in the parking garage. When we locked eyes over the bin of demo equipment we had to lift together, I could almost feel the confrontation exploding between us.

  But then the elevator had opened and a couple of people from a company I didn’t immediately recognize trooped in with some plastic crates, and the moment passed. It wasn’t like the tension had vanished. More like someone had been holding a cutting torch dangerously close to a stick of dynamite, but then moved it away from the fuse. The dynamite was still there, and the torch was still lit, but for the time being, they were far enough apart to let us breathe.

  In silence, we loaded the case into the van, closed and locked the doors, and wheeled the cart back into the convention hall.

  And all the while, I tried and failed to ignore the ticking timebomb between us.

  ***

  We could only put off the inevitable for so long, and I saw it coming from a mile away. All the way back to the hotel, up the elevator, and down the hall, I could feel it brewing in the tightness in my chest, and I could see it in the twitch of his jaw muscles. If there was such a thing as an emotional relief valve, we’d crossed the threshold of anything it could contain. It didn’t even need a spark to blow at this point.

  It didn’t need one, but it got one, and that spark came in the form of me nudging the door closed slightly harder than I needed to. I hadn’t intended to. I wasn’t slamming it or anything. Any other time, we both might’ve jumped at the unexpected bang, and that would have been the end of it.

  Not this time.

  The door hit home like a gunshot going off, and we both damn near jumped out of our skin, and I could almost literally feel the relief valve give.

  Reuben spun around, lips pulled back across his teeth and eyes narrow as he jabbed a finger at me. “What the fuck were you thinking last night?”

  I straightened, showing my palms. “Me? It took two, you know.”

  He scowled. “Yeah, but it only took one to make the first move.”

  “You weren’t exactly protesting in the elevator,” I snapped. “And I definitely didn’t hear any protests once you had my dick down your throat.”

  “Of course you didn’t,” he shot back. “You knew you wouldn’t because you know I’ve never been able to say no to you.”

  The words were like a slap across the face. We stared at each other in stunned silence.

  “Do…” I swallowed. “Do you think that’s why I kissed you? Because I knew you wouldn’t say no?”

  He tightened his jaw and folded his arms. “Would you have done it if you thought I’d shoot you down?”

  “That’s not the same as going for it because I was taking advantage of you or something.” I showed my palms. “Look, I don’t know why I made a move. It just felt right, and I—”

  “Yeah, I’m sure it did.”

  I glared at him, not sure if I was more pissed or hurt by the accusations. “I can’t believe you think I was just making a pass at you because… because…” I threw up a hand. “Seriously, Reuben? Is that seriously what you think?”

>   “Well, I can’t imagine it was because you thought it would make the rest of the trade show bearable, so you tell me.”

  I gaped, unable to process all this. He’d lashed out in the past, and God knew in the heat of the moment we’d both said things we didn’t mean, but I couldn’t get my head around what he was saying. Did he really think…? Did he actually believe…?

  Fuck. I couldn’t do this. Not now. I was too raw and too tired to stand here and listen to him tell me he thought last night was… like that. Maybe it had been a mistake, but I’d wanted him, and not because I knew he’d say yes. Hell, I’d been scared shitless he’d shove me away and tell me off. I didn’t have it in me to absorb all this. Not tonight.

  “You know what?” I put up my hands again. “I’m done. I’m exhausted, and we’re going to be stuck in the van all day tomorrow, so if it’s all right with you, I’m going out for a while.”

  “Be my guest.” He took off his shoes and nudged them up against his suitcase. “I’ll be here.”

  Not like I cared. As long as he was somewhere other than where I was, that was fine by me.

  So I double-checked I had my wallet and room key, and without another word, got the fuck out of there.

  Chapter 11

  Reuben

  The constant avalanche of emails—most of them urgent—were turning out to be more blessing than curse. If nothing else, they gave me something to do to pass the time while Marcus was gone.

  I was pretty sure he’d gone to the hotel bar. The trade show was over, so a lot of the attendees were heading down for an informal get-together. From what I’d heard, that pretty much meant everyone was getting hammered and being loud for a night before they had to trudge back to work. That was where, legend had it, the biggest trade show mistakes happened. The ill-judged, alcohol-fueled hookups. The drunken leaks of trade secrets. The shit-faced shit-talking that could sever professional relationships and create hostile work environments.