“Fuck!”
“No, thanks, Trav. I’m no longer in the mood,” I said, gesturing to my spent dick that lay against my thigh.
“I’m sorry, babe. I—”
“Save it, Travis.” I jerked the curtain closed and finished washing my hair and body.
After I toweled off and redressed in sweats and a T-shirt, I found Travis sulking on the living room sofa. I ignored him and retrieved my six-layer chocolate cake from the refrigerator. I wasn’t a bit hungry, but I wasn’t about to let him find it after I fell asleep either.
“Where’s mine?” he asked with a pout.
“In the restaurant where I left my dignity.”
“Why didn’t you call me?” he asked, insinuating that his insensitivity was my fault.
“I shouldn’t have to call and remind you that it was our anniversary. We made these plans together. You entered them into your phone. I know your assistant hands you a printed itinerary every-single-fucking-day, which would have included our reservations. You saw it this morning when you reviewed your day then forgot about it. Forgot about me,” I added. “Now I’m going to eat this cake, go to bed, and forget about this fucking disaster of a day.”
“I’m really sorry, Rush.”
It was too little, too late.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet me, Lincoln,” Maxim Detwiler said. “I understand that the country club development didn’t appeal to you last year, but I have another proposal for you to consider. One that I think will be mutually pleasing.” I’d run into Maxim numerous times since Phee and I rejected his offer, and he never once gave me a hint that he was considering another business arrangement with us.
I studied the way the billionaire reclined in the restaurant chair. He wanted his casual pose to put me at ease, but I could tell the way he propped his elbow on the back of the chair was contrived so I would see the way his biceps bulged beneath the fine cloth of his expensive dress shirt. The semi-turned angle of his torso also gave me a glimpse at the smattering of dark chest hair exposed by the gap from the buttons he’d undone at the top of the shirt. I supposed the way he stretched out his long legs beneath the table could look like a man having a relaxing dinner with a potential business partner, but I suspected he just wanted to tap his foot against mine. Why? To let me know he wanted to fuck me. Hell, he’d made that quite obvious, even though I pretended not to notice. Or was it to establish dominance?
He might’ve pulled it off had it not been for the calculated look in his eyes and the tense lines forming commas around his lush mouth when he smiled seductively. Yeah, I admit I noticed those plump lips and even imagined having the billionaire at my feet servicing my cock. Imagining and acting on it were two different things. The momentary pleasure he would give me would evaporate before the last drop of cum fell from my dick. Besides, the more time I spent in his company, the more I disliked the man. I would not ruin the life I built with Ophelia for a quick fuck.
“Well, Maxim, you would’ve also invited Ophelia to dinner if you wanted to discuss business. She’s my partner in all things.” I gestured around the extravagant private dining room in the four-star restaurant he’d chosen. “You also wouldn’t have ensured that we were secluded from the other diners if you merely wanted to discuss another business arrangement.”
“Right you are, Lincoln,” Maxim said, straightening in his chair. He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table and dialed up his seduction by teasing the corners of his mouth with the tip of his tongue. “I didn’t bring you here to discuss a building project.”
“Then why?” I knew the answer, but I needed to hear him say it.
“You know why, Lincoln. We’re both too old for coy games.” His words were short, his voice hard. “I didn’t invite the lovely Ophelia here because I’m not interested in extending this offer to her. There’s only room for two for what I have in mind.”
“Stop.” I held up my hand for additional emphasis. “That’s never going to happen.”
Maxim threw his head back and laughed wickedly. “If that’s true, then why didn’t you bring your darling wife with you? You could’ve played it off that you assumed she was invited, but you showed up here alone.”
“I…”
“Because you feel the attraction between us, even if you won’t admit it. You want me to pursue you. It makes your dick hard. Are you hard right now?” Maxim propped his head on his fist. “Tell me, does she know that you’re into cock?”
I pulled the napkin off my lap and tossed it onto the table. I would’ve risen to my feet, but the erection tenting my pants would’ve proved Detwiler’s point. Yes, it flattered and aroused me that such a sexy, powerful man obviously wanted me, but I hated that my body physically reacted to what my mind rejected. He was misjudging my strong will and moral code. “Maxim—”
“Tell me, Lincoln, have you ever had sex with another man. Or even kissed one? There’s nothing quite like it.” He licked his lips like he was picturing those things with me right then and there.
“I will not discuss my sex life with you.” The parts of me he wanted to reveal were memories I buried so deep that no one could unearth them. I never wanted them excavated and exposed to anyone, especially not him.
“Your shaking hands and voice give you away, Lincoln. Does Ophelia know? Do you think of men when you—”
“Shut the fuck up,” I snarled as I rose to my feet. “This meeting is over. Don’t you ever contact me again, or I’ll go public with your harassment.”
“I’ll go public with just how much you liked it.” Detwiler nodded at my hard cock pressing against the outline of my thin dress pants. “There’s no need for this anger. We can be discreet. Your secret will be safe with me.”
Humiliation was the ice bucket of reality I needed to douse my ardor. “Fuck you!” I told him before I turned and walked away.
“I was trying to,” Detwiler called out to me. “Maybe next time.”
There wouldn’t be a next time. I prayed that I looked more composed than I felt when I walked through the restaurant and retrieved my car from the valet. I wouldn’t let myself think of the way the evening unfolded or recall the words Maxim spoke as I navigated through heavy San Diego traffic. I held my shit together until after I exited the interstate and neared the gated community where I lived. My body quaked, my eyes burned with unshed tears, and guilt clawed at my gut. I couldn’t go home in that condition, so I stopped at a park a few minutes from my home and tried to gather myself.
I put my car in park but left it running since I didn’t expect to be there long. I tipped my head back, closed my eyes, and willed my heart to stop racing and my lungs to pull air in at a normal rhythm. The commands to calm down and find my center went unheeded, and I felt hot tears of misery and self-loathing slide down my cheeks as one repressed memory after the other flooded my mind. It was like an invisible dam had broken, and I could no longer pretend. Was it Maxim’s words that triggered the flashback of me marching across Rush’s room to kiss him when he returned from the shower and found me standing in his bedroom? Or was it just the fact that I’d never really gotten over my first love and heartbreak?
It felt like I stood there for a thousand years while my eyes cataloged every inch of bare skin exposed to me. A drop of water clung to the tip of Rush’s shaggy, blond hair, and I watched as it lost the battle and fell in slow motion to his shoulder. I tracked the droplet as it cascaded down his lean body and disappeared beneath the towel at his waist. His body was so different from mine—lean to my bulk, pale to my tan. It was like the contrast that our photography teacher talked about in class.
I jerked my gaze upward and finally looked into vibrant green eyes that had always looked at me with such adoration. God, how I had missed Rush during my self-imposed exile from his life. He made me feel things I’d never experienced before, and he scared the hell out of me. One false move and my life—our lives—would be over.
“Rush,” I managed to say between dry, shaking
lips.
I couldn’t put a name to the things I felt, but whatever they were, Rush was feeling them too. It felt an awful lot like love. I couldn’t fight the feelings any longer, and the tenuous control that remained snapped.
I crossed the room, cupped his face in both my hands, and kissed him with all the pent-up frustration I’d felt the past few years. Rush gripped my biceps in surprise, and I clumsily backed him up against the door. I wasn’t quite as experienced as I led my friends to believe, but I had at least kissed Jana. It felt nothing like kissing Rush though. I mean, their lips felt similar, but the emotions inside me were completely different. My heart pounded in my chest in a way I had never felt before, and I thought it was fear of having someone look at me the way that carny did years ago. Then I realized my greatest fear was never knowing how Rush tasted. The need to slip my tongue past Rush’s lips overpowered any thought that discouraged me from having what I craved. Need rose swift and hard, grabbing me by the throat, threatening to choke me.
I pulled back slightly, smiling at the wonder and awe that bloomed across his face in a sweet, pink blush. “Linc,” he said between ragged breaths. “I didn’t know…”
“Now you do. We both do.”
Rush’s mother called from the bottom of the steps to let us know that dinner was ready just as I leaned in to kiss him again. We both groaned softly in frustration then smiled at our similar reactions. Yeah, we both felt the same fire in our bellies and even further south.
“We can resume this after dinner,” I told him.
“You mean after you finish your homework?” Rush asked brazenly with a raised brow.
I assure you that there has never been a better incentive issued. Coach thought the threat of getting benched was enough to get my head out of my ass, but it turned out I only needed the promise of Rush’s sweet, soft lips to buckle down and pay attention to the equations and formulas in my text book. Gone were the questions of why the skills were necessary and when I’d ever use them. Instead, I was determined to learn all the sensitive places on Rush’s body.
I learned that Rush had a lot more control than I did. His voice didn’t shake when he explained the problem and how to solve it, even though we lay on our bellies on his bed while sharing his math book. His breath only slightly hitched when I crossed my leg behind me to run my toe up his calf. He just pointed to the math problem with the eraser end of his pencil and continued to explain the unexplainable to me.
Rush eagerly rolled onto his back as soon as we finished our homework. Leaning over him, I got lost in his luminous eyes and happy smile for several heartbeats until the urge to taste those tempting lips again became too much for me to resist. I pressed my mouth softly against his a few times before teasing his lips open enough to slide my tongue past them. He tasted of cinnamon and apples from the pie his mom baked for dessert and something else even sweeter that was unique to Rush. I became addicted to his sweetness and found every excuse to taste it greedily.
We were both too young and innocent to know how to barter for the things we wanted, but over the next few weeks, that’s what we did. I became the most dedicated pupil while Rush became the most eager teacher. Rush taught me algebra, and I showed him how his body reacted when I kissed his neck, nibbled on his ear, and pressed my hard-on against his. We both wanted more, to cross the line that wasn’t supposed to be crossed by two boys, but something held us back. I suspected that something was fear. Still, we knew the sound each other made when we spilled inside our underwear after rubbing against each other, and I knew there would never be a kiss sweeter than the one that Rush always placed above my heart right before we pulled away to clean up.
Rush’s parents left us alone because they wouldn’t suspect that the brainiac and jock were grinding erections and making out after our study sessions. Coach was just happy my grades were improving and that I seemed to be even more focused on the football field. My parents were just happy I wasn’t around so they didn’t have to pretend to be a happy family. Those few hours up in Rush’s room each night meant so much more than horny groping and kissing. They were about freedom and spending time with someone who truly understood me and loved me.
As wonderful as it sounds, my time with Rush wasn’t free of anger, suspicion, and fights. It hurt him to see me with Jana the day after our first kiss. He logically thought that I would end things with her right away. When I arrived at his house for our second tutoring session, he asked me about the stories the guys on the team were talking about, and I told him the truth. Jana had let me kiss her, and that was all. I admitted to Rush that I pursued Jana because of her ultra-religious beliefs that mandated she save herself for marriage. My dad kept busting my balls over not dating girls, and I gave in to get him off my back, just as I made up stories about what Jana and I got up to on our dates to make the guys happy.
Rush wanted to believe me; I saw that in his eyes. It was also evident how much he longed to be the one holding my hand in the hallways at school and proudly wearing my varsity jacket, but in his green gaze too was the heartbreaking acceptance that it would never happen.
“I wish it could be you, Rush,” I said when silent tears slid down his face. I begged him with my eyes to see the truth and hear it in my words. “I only want you.”
He said nothing for several moments, so I closed my book and rose from his bed. Rush’s hand snaked out and grabbed my wrist. “Don’t go.”
I sat back down and slowly tugged my arm until his hand slid down to mine. Then I curled my fingers protectively around his like I wished I could protect our hearts. I knew no good would come out of the love building between us, but I was powerless to stop it. Only Rush could stop me from hurting him by sending me away. Instead of telling me to go, he leaned into me and pressed his mouth against my throat.
“Promise me that you’ll only give this to me,” he said, placing his hand over my wildly beating heart. “I’ll share your time if I have to, but I won’t share this. Tell me it’s mine, Linc. Please.”
“Only yours, Rush,” I easily promised.
I knew it was hard for him, but he never mentioned it again. Guilt lashed at me, leaving me feeling battered and bloody. I tried to carry on the charade with Jana, but knew it wasn’t fair to her, to Rush, or to me. I kept finding excuses not to be with her so that I could secretly spend it with Rush. In the end, she got tired of waiting for me to return her calls and her affection. She issued an ultimatum over Christmas break that I either spend every free minute with her or it was over. I couldn’t be mad at her for being upset, but she gave me the push I needed. I drove away from her house and straight over to Rush’s.
His parents were out doing some shopping and Jules was at her boyfriend’s house, which meant we had the place to ourselves for the first time since we started exploring the feelings brewing between us. That night we didn’t go all the way, but for the first time, no clothes separated us when our combined releases mixed on Rush’s stomach and chest. I had given my heart to the boy I loved more than any person on the planet and knew it was only a matter of time before I shared all of me too.
My cell phone rang, snapping me back to the present. I saw Ophelia’s name on the screen and wiped away my tears and cleared my throat before answering.
“Yes, dear,” I said in playful exaggeration.
“Is everything okay? I started to worry that Maxim Detwiler kidnapped you or something,” Phee said.
“Um…”
“I can see that the man wants you all to himself, Lincoln. He doesn’t bother to hide it.”
Please don’t ask me why Maxim thinks it’s okay, Phee. Please don’t ask questions. “It won’t do him any good, Phee. I made that very clear.”
“So he did invite you out to fuck you.” I could imagine her nodding her head as she realized that she was right.
“Yes,” I replied, unwilling to lie about that at least. Please don’t ask questions.
“Well, I can’t blame him. You are a beautiful man, Lincoln Hux
ley.” I heard the smile in her voice. “What are you doing now?”
I put the car in reverse and backed out of my parking spot. “Coming home to you, of course.”
Ophelia was my safe place, and I’d always choose her.
“Sign here, here, and here,” my assistant, Nigel, said.
“You mean where those little stickers say, ‘sign here’ next to the signature line with my name typed beneath it?” I teased.
“Yeah, those are the ones, smart ass.” I knew if I turned, Nigel’s brilliant blue eyes would be rolling up inside his head as he battled patience. I loved to give him a hard time, but my photography business wouldn’t be nearly as successful without him. I was the creative force, and Nigel took care of everything else, even though I had an MBA. “Do you want your incredible images featured in the most famous fashion magazine on the planet or not?”
“Hmm,” I said, pretending to think about it with my pen hovered next to one of the X’s that marked the spot.
“Idiot,” Nigel said, but his chuckle softened the heat in his words. “I should’ve just forged your name as I do on all the trivial things I don’t want to trouble you with.”
I looked over my shoulder and found him smiling with wicked mirth. “What trivial things do you forge my name on?”
“Little things like invoices and receipts,” my assistant said then shrugged. “Oh, the prenuptial agreement that Travis sent over last week.”
“What? We said there wouldn’t be a prenup.”
“I’m kidding!” Nigel rubbed the tension out of my shoulders. It was his fault, so it seemed only fair. “I can’t believe he finally is making an honest man out of you.” Nigel didn’t sound at all pleased.
“Me either,” I said honestly.
For the six months that followed our disastrous anniversary evening, Travis went out of his way to make things up to me. He started coming home earlier, and we cooked meals together like we did when our love was new. We both ignored our phones and paid attention to one another. There were nights when we didn’t even turn the television on, choosing to talk over a shared bottle of wine or snuggle on the couch while reading. Our tastes in books were the opposite end of the literary spectrum, but it never bothered me that I loved wild adventures found in fiction while Travis preferred more serious non-fiction books. He couldn’t relate to my love of treasure hunts, and my eyes glazed over when it came to biographies and historical retellings of wars and events that happened decades before my time. Sure, I knew they were important, but they weren’t my idea of entertainment. What mattered to me was how hard we both tried to fix our relationship.
Second Wind Page 4
