by Lane Hayes
Leaning Into Always
Lane Hayes
Copyright © 2017 by Lane Hayes
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Places, names, characters and events are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, or persons, living or deceased, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Cover Design by Reese Dante
For Bob-
Always xo
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Epilogue
Leaning Into Touch- Coming Fall 2017!
Excerpt from Leaning Into Touch by Lane Hayes
About the Author
Also by Lane Hayes
1
“My heart is, and always will be, yours.”—Jane Austen, Sense and Sensibility
Lazy Sunday mornings were the best. Especially in the summer when the days were longer and there was no sense of urgency. I could do what I wanted and go where I pleased. Or I could stay home and curl up in my comfy leather chair reading murder mysteries and gazing out my giant bay window at the amazing view of the Golden Gate Bridge and Alcatraz. I’d daydream in peace and quiet and—
“Hey, drink up, babe. We’ve got things to do!”
I groaned on cue and lifted my coffee cup to my mouth. I took a healthy sip before pushing the half-empty cup toward my cheery roommate, holding the carafe on the opposite side of the kitchen island.
“Please,” I whispered in a desperate tone.
Zane rolled his eyes but thankfully complied before taking the barstool next to mine. He ran his hand down my back then leaned in to kiss my cheek.
“You had a good night’s sleep, and you even got some exercise this morning”—he paused to waggle his eyebrows lasciviously then reached to cup my balls through my boxer briefs—“you should be full of energy and ready to set sail.”
“I am. Or I will be. I just need a little more caffeine.”
Zane cocked his head and studied me thoughtfully. “You don’t have to come with me if you don’t feel like it, Er. You’ve been on the water with me every weekend. If you want a break, that’s okay. I understand.”
“You do?”
“Of course. I can get Nick, Josh, or Grant to come with me instead,” he said matter-of-factly before taking a sip.
“No. I’m fine. I want to go. You’re my boyfriend. It’s my job.”
Zane yanked my T-shirt when I tried to stand up and scowled. “Job? Sailing isn’t your job, it’s mine. And we aren’t keeping score here. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
“So if I say I’m tired and I don’t feel like bopping around on a tin can in turbulent water, you won’t be insulted or think I’m the worst boyfriend ever?” I attempted to fuse humor into my query, but when he didn’t look particularly amused, I made a funny face too. Nope. Still didn’t work. “Okay. I’ll jump in the shower in a sec and—”
“Hold on. This is one of those weird cross-over moments, isn’t it? A ‘how do you go from being friends to an almost-married couple without fucking up a good thing?’ test. Am I right?”
I furrowed my brow and gave him a wry half grin. “Hmm. Maybe. It’s not intentional, but yeah…sometimes I don’t know how to balance who I used to be to you and who I am now. Does that make sense?”
Zane returned my weak smile with a radiant one I felt deep inside my soul. It was followed by a surge of affection so strong, I almost fell off my barstool. Fuck, I loved him. And suddenly everything was clear again. We were exactly where we were supposed to be.
So, here’s the thing—Zane wasn’t just my roommate. He was my best friend, my lover, and in less than four months, he’d be my husband. The thought alone made me dizzy. I wanted to pinch myself sometimes ’cause I couldn’t believe my insane luck. We’d known each other for years, but nine months ago, everything changed and there was no turning back now. I should have been more freaked out than I was, but truthfully, we felt right together. We fit.
In some ways, it was a mystery. We were complete opposites who had a few major things in common. We hailed from the same Southern California beach town and had both ended up going to Stanford University. After that, our differences were what most people noticed. We might as well have been from different planets.
Zane was tall, dreamy, and naturally athletic. He was a six-foot-one hunk with longish dark-blond hair, gorgeous blue eyes, and a reputation for knowing how to have a good time. He was a cool kid in high school. The stereotypical Southern California surfer dude who hung out with a bunch of miscreants at the beach, checking out the hot chicks in between riding waves and getting stoned. Zane skated by with mediocre grades until he joined the water polo team in our junior year. His talent in the pool ultimately won him a scholarship toward an elite education, while my admittance was based on brainpower.
I was a geek. There was no way to sugarcoat it. I was the last one picked for dodge ball in gym class but the first guy chosen for a spelling bee or math competition. Scholastic achievement mattered to me. I was captain of the debate team in high school and college. I took all honors classes and was constantly prepping for the next big exam. I might have lived less than a mile from the ocean, but I had zero interest in risking sunburn when there were more important things to do, like study. My brain was my asset, which was a good thing because in all other respects, I was ordinary. I was five ten with short brown hair, brown eyes, and pleasant but unremarkable features. I worked out now more than ever with Zane, but I was never going to be super muscular. And that was okay by me. However, the mystery remained. What on earth did he see in me?
I didn’t question my unlikely fortune anymore. We were both thirty-year-old, well-educated adults living in a diverse and vibrant city. We had a great group of friends and jobs we loved. Zane used his business degree and love of the ocean to become a professional sailor who sold luxury vessels to the uberwealthy when he wasn’t competing in prestigious regattas. And me…I founded a successful tech company with our friend, Nick, in the Silicon Valley. Professionally, we were both doing well and personally, I’d never been happier.
But the neurotic part of me insisted there had to be a catch and that somehow, I’d find a way to fuck this up well before we made it to the altar.
Zane held my face between his hands and kissed my lips before resting his forehead against mine. The tender gesture quieted my fears and grounded me. I closed my eyes for a moment and reveled in the joy of just being near him.
“Look at me, Er.” He waited for me to obey then kissed my nose and backed up slightly with his arms hooked over my shoulders. “I love you and I’m not going to love you less if you don’t go sailing with me. Got it?”
I bit my lip and nodded. “Yes. I can do wedding things while you’re out. I’ll call the wedding planner and—”
“Or…you can take it easy and do nothing at all. Treat yourself. Read a book or watch one of those documentaries you like about the native plants in Peru.”
I barked a quick laugh and punched his bicep playfully. “I’ve never watched a documentary about native plants in Peru.” I waited a beat before ad
ding, “It was Argentina.”
“My bad.” He smirked. “The point is…you’ve been going full-steam for months. Give yourself a break. You don’t have to go sailing with me every weekend. I won’t be bummed if you want to do your own thing.”
“So you don’t want me to go?” I narrowed my gaze and fixed him with a mock glare.
Zane pulled me into a headlock and rubbed his knuckles over my skull. I batted him away then hopped to my feet and put my hands on my hips in my best “don’t mess with me” stance. He chuckled then yanked at my elbow to pull me back into his arms.
“Don’t be a weenie, Schuster. You know what I mean.”
“Weenie?” I snuggled against his chest then slipped my fingers under the elastic of his boxer briefs and pinched his ass. “And don’t call me Schuster.”
He yelped then gave me a badass grimace before capturing both of my hands and holding them against my lower back. Then he walked me backward from the kitchen into the adjoining great room.
“What do you want me to call you? Honey, baby, sweetheart?”
“Mmm. Yes. That’s better.” I moaned, nudging his stubbled chin with my nose.
Zane hummed in approval then licked my jaw. “Or Mr. Richards or—”
“What?” I pulled my arms free then pushed his chest when he reached the edge of the sofa. He flailed wildly before grasping my hand at the last second to tug me on top of him so we lay chest-to-chest on the oversized light-gray sectional. I chuckled at his antics then lifted his T-shirt to suck on his left tit while I teased the right, tweaking it between my thumb and forefinger roughly. “Mr. Who?”
“Richards. You’re taking my last name, right? Or am I taking yours?”
I knew he was joking, but my incurably romantic heart loved the idea of either option. “We could hyphenate,” I suggested with a grin.
“I suppose we could.” He ran his fingers through my hair lovingly then traced the shell of my ears. “And as much as I’d love to discuss whose name goes first, I gotta go. Up!”
I rolled out of the way when he smacked my ass. Then I lay back and pulled my boxers down to release my half-hard cock.
“Do you really have to go anywhere?”
Zane gave me a mischievously crooked grin. “My dick was in your ass less than an hour ago. You ready for round two so soon, baby?”
“And they say romance is dead.” I sighed sarcastically as I adjusted my briefs and sat up. “When you put it that way, no. But I will be when you get home.”
“Sounds like a date.” He bent to kiss my forehead then headed for our bedroom. He stopped in his tracks before he reached the hallway. “Speaking of dates…check your calendar. I told my mom we’d come visit sometime in the next month or so. We should get the family interrogations over with before the ceremony. I have a regatta next weekend, but I’m free the one after.”
“Whoa. Wait a sec.” I knelt on the sofa and held my hand up as though it would magically keep him in place. “Is it really necessary? We already know each other’s families.”
Zane pulled his T-shirt over his head, exposing his drool-worthy abs. Then he balled the fabric up and threw it at me. “Are you scared?”
“Of what?” I scoffed, tossing the shirt back in his general direction. I wasn’t surprised when it landed half the distance in between.
“I don’t know. My mom may try to feed you her newest quinoa farro salad. She said something about beets, oranges, and edamame too. Sounds a little scary but—”
“Actually, it sounds amazing.” I chuckled when Zane raised his brow dubiously. “But if we see your mom, we have to see my parents too and I know them. They’ll try to make this into a thing…like an engagement party. Before you know it, a mellow weekend visit to our three parents will turn into a circus with extended family members and friends. We can do that at the wedding instead.”
Zane shook his head. “This doesn’t have to be a burden. We’ll make it fun. We can stay at the Beach Club Resort, get massages, cruise the harbor in an electric boat…and we’ll surf!”
“Surf?” I widened my eyes comically and gulped.
“Sure!” Zane squatted in an impromptu surfer’s pose with one leg in front of the other and his arms stretched wide. “I’ll grab one of my old longboards from my mom’s garage for you and teach you how to shred. What d’ya say, dude?”
I let out a half laugh at his over-the-top surfer-speak to defuse the heady spark of recognition. His cocky moves reminded me of the popular boy I knew eons ago. The untouchable party boy with longish hair, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and a natural swagger that made everyone take a second or third glance. Zane was out of my league back then in every way that counted to an average sixteen-year-old. But now, he was mine. And that extra twinkle in his gaze was only for me.
So yeah, I’d go anywhere he led. Even to the beach.
“Cool, man,” I enthused, hopping off the sofa.
Zane grinned and pulled me toward our bedroom. “I sense sarcasm but I’m up to the challenge. We can make it fun. You’ll see. You trust me.…Right?”
Yes. I trusted him a million times over. No question. And if I could kick ass in front of CEOs from Fortune 500 firms, I could hold my own back home with the people who were no doubt wondering how Zane and I ever ended up becoming a couple.
The following week passed in a blur. Zane and I were both busy at work. He trained vigorously with his crew for his regatta and won. However, he didn’t rest on his laurels for long. He had a couple of clients interested in purchasing a specific type of sailboat that required some networking and travel. One of whom was a former investor in my company, EN Tech. Oh yeah…and my business partner and friend’s almost-father-in-law.
Don Carrigan and I had developed a cautiously friendly relationship in the wake of Nick and his daughter’s broken engagement for Zane’s sake. Don hated Nick and only mildly tolerated me, but he loved my fiancé. He was a boat racing enthusiast who admired Zane’s ability as a helmsman. He’d sponsored a few of Zane’s races, including last weekend’s, and was so excited by the first-place win that he was inspired to buy a new sailboat.
I balanced my cell between my shoulder and my ear as I typed an email on my computer, grinning at the obvious excitement in Zane’s voice.
“Not just any boat. Carrigan wants a very specific luxury ketch,” Zane explained.
“Catch?”
“No, ketch. He has two sloops for recreational sailing but the ones he owns are meant for serious racing. He wants to hire me to find him the perfect one. I’m going to look around while we’re in SoCal this weekend. I bet Dean can help me out. He called me out of the blue last week. I haven’t had a chance to return his message, but I think he still works at the yacht club and—”
“Dean who?” I frowned, pushing away from my computer and swiveling my chair to look out my office window at my expansive view of the Santa Cruz Mountains.
“Dean Gorman, Chelsea’s older brother. You remember him from high school, don’t you?”
“Yeah. I also remember you said he was your first and that you hadn’t seen him in years,” I grumbled unhappily then turned when someone knocked on my door.
Nick popped his head in and gestured at his watch before signaling for me to wrap it up. I rolled my eyes and held up a finger, indicating I’d be a minute longer, but wasn’t surprised when he ignored me. He strolled inside then flopped gracelessly into one of the leather guest chairs across from me and propped his feet on my desk. I gave him a dirty look but tuned into Zane’s exasperated sigh on my cell.
“I also told you that was a long time ago,” Zane said patiently. “I haven’t seen him in years but we have mutual friends. He’s married with three kids now. Maybe four. It doesn’t matter. What does matter is finding a new toy for Don. The commission from this sale would be sweet, but it’s chump change compared to what he really wants.”
“Which is?” I prompted.
“A hundred-and-twenty-plus-foot yacht. He wants to cruise th
e Mediterranean in style with Jay Z, Celine Dion, and Warren Buffet.”
“So do I. Will you buy me one too?”
“Sure, baby, but I may need to borrow ten mil,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Ten million dollars? Holy crap!”
“I know. The commission on that kind of sale would be insane.”
“Can you drive a yacht that big?” I asked, furrowing my brow.
“You don’t drive yachts, Er. You sail them. Now say good-bye to your hubby. We’re working here,” Nick snarked.
“Aw, Nicky’s jelly, isn’t he? But he’s right. I have to get back to work too. I just wanted to give you a heads up about Dean. We can grab lunch with him or maybe a cup of coffee. We’re flying home Friday afternoon, right?”
“Uh…right,” I confirmed, feeling slightly thrown off guard by this new twist.
“Cool. I’ll see you tonight. I’m making shrimp risotto. Don’t be late. Tell Nick hi for me. Oh, and Er?”
“Yeah?”
“For the record, I can drive anything, baby.” His sexy low voice reverberated through me. I was glad to be sitting behind a big desk when my dick twitched hopefully against my navy suit pants. And when he added, “I love you” before disconnecting the call, my heart did that funny somersault it always did. The one that made me breathless like I’d just run a marathon.
“You look like you need smelling salts. Are you going to faint from all that sweet talk?” Nick teased. “I should offer to make this quick so you can call him back, lock the door, and jack off to some hot phone sex.”
“You’d do that for me? Geez, Nick. You’re the best!” I gave him a megawatt grin and batted my eyelashes to get under his skin. Then I leaned over to smack his feet off my desk. “What’s up?”
