Middleman

by Jayne Rylon

  “I’m here to give you your painting.”

  Duh.

  He’s blinking at me like he doesn’t understand.

  “The one you commissioned,” I continue. How does a man spend that much money and forget about it like it’s nothing? Well, honestly, I know he didn’t expect me to make him anything.

  How could I not?

  “What the hell am I going to do with a nude portrait of myself?” He swings his arm toward his fireplace. “Hang it up there and think of what a moron I was every time I look at it? Ugh.”

  He has no idea what I’m holding. What if he feels the same way after he sees it? “If you hate it, I’ll take it and go. But I’d appreciate it if you’d look at it before you decide.”

  “Fine.” He holds out his healthy hand.

  I shoo him and carry it to the monolithic ebony dining table nearby. I’m sure it’s expensive as fuck. It’s also impersonal and cold. Not like the Rogan I know.

  He isn’t meant to be here.

  My distaste must be evident. “My assistant picked out this place and furnished it. It suits the man she’s familiar with. The one I am at the office.”

  “I’m sorry she’s never seen the side of you I have.” I hold the edge of the wrapped frame so that it’s standing upright and gesture for him to do the rest. He strides over and stands beside me, close enough that I can smell his aftershave. I’d love to turn my head and lick the exposed column of his neck.

  I don’t.

  Doesn’t it figure? Rogan is a neat unwrapper. Kill me now. With his left hand, he picks at the tape holding the paper closed, driving me insane. If I were him, I’d be ripping and tearing it like a mini-tornado to unearth what’s inside.

  He freezes when he reveals the top left quarter of the image.

  It’s my face peeking through, not his.

  “Wait, what?” Rogan comes alive, attacking the packaging. About time! Bits and pieces scatter on the floor around us like confetti as he realizes what I’ve done. When the image is fully revealed, he pulls out a chair and plunks onto it. “Oh, Kaden. This…”

  He clears his throat and swipes a discreet knuckle along the corner of his eye.

  Is that a good thing or a bad thing? “You hate it?”

  He doesn’t take his eyes off the painting for a moment. His response is emphatic enough that I know what I’d see if he faced me. “Are you crazy? Kaden, it’s amazing. Perfect. Are you sure it’s mine?”

  “Absolutely. So am I, if you want me.” That finally does it.

  Rogan pries his adoring gaze from the picture of him and me, as we must have looked after coming together that first night, though I painted the scene entirely from my recollection. The perspective makes it seem as if I’d had a camera attached to an exposed beam in my loft, looking straight down at us as we slept tangled in each others’ arms and the rumpled sheets. Both of us peaceful and relaxed after granting and receiving solace. The clench of my splayed fingers on his shoulder and the possessive hold he has on my waist are hints of the passion we’d exchanged before exhausting ourselves.

  Even our shared fortune is there, lying on my bedside table. If you look close, maybe with a magnifying glass, you can read it. You’re exactly where you’re meant to be (in bed).

  I would do anything to hop into that canvas as if it were a time machine and shake myself awake to explain what an awful mistake I was about to make. I’d do everything different.

  I’d stay up all night watching Rogan sleep then rouse him with another round of sex, this one more affectionate and less demanding. Then I’d explain how I got so screwed up in the first place and how being with him was mending me.

  I know his ugly secrets. He should know mine.

  “Rogan, I’m ready to talk about Cortez.”

  “You don’t have to,” he back peddles. “As long as you’re ready to move past what happened between you two, I don’t mind you keeping that stuff in the past. I let what happened with Ronaldo make me afraid you’d be like him. I know you’re not. You don’t owe me an explanation. Just reassurance that you’re comfortable going on from here like we have been so far. That’s all I ask.”

  “No, it’s important that you understand some things before you decide whether or not to kick my sorry ass out again.” I cut him off when he begins to apologize. “You did the right thing. It’s not a criticism. “

  “Then I’m here to listen.” He takes a huge breath then confesses, “Because, Kaden, I missed you too. A lot.”

  20

  Kaden

  I take the seat across from Rogan so I won’t be tempted to stop the flow of my words or stem my sadness by kissing him. Neither of us would be able to keep that from turning into lovemaking. I’m sure of it. I’m about to prove to him that what he asks of me is important.

  I’m willing to confront myself and share the most damaged parts of me with him. I’ll stop hiding in the microcosm of my studio, my gallery, and my loft. There’s more of the world to see and share with him out here.

  Rogan scoots closer to the table and lays his hand on top of it. I’ll take it to help with the telling. I press my palm to his and savor his warmth. We wrap our fingers around each other’s wrists at the same moment.

  I smile at him then inhale shakily. “I assume you’re expecting me to explain what went wrong, and why he left me. If it’s okay, I’d rather start by sharing the everyday stuff. What he’s like and how we were together. How confident and cocky he is. How strong. How everything fell into place when we found each other. All the reasons I loved him so much, despite not having very long with him. So maybe you’ll understand why it hurt so bad, absolutely ripped me apart, when he left and told me he didn’t plan to come back.”

  It could take hours. Days even.

  I haven’t let myself think of the good times for a while. There are so many things I adored about Cortez. Still do, if I’m being honest. He’s not mine anymore. That doesn’t mean he’s not still an incredible person. Even if I wasn’t man enough to keep him.

  It’s hard to admit it now, after hanging on to my rage for years, but I wasn’t wrong in my one-sided love. It’s just one of those things no one’s to blame for. I hadn’t been as critical to his happiness as he was to mine. I hadn’t completed him as perfectly as he did me, or he never could have walked away. Stayed away.

  The truth I’ve been ashamed to share is that it was me who hadn’t been good enough for Cortez. Worse, I’m terrified I might not be good enough to hang on to Rogan, either. He’s every bit as extraordinary in his own way. Rich, handsome, compassionate, and amazing in bed.

  That’s what I’m so fucking afraid of.

  We talk for hours. About the elaborate surprise party Cortez threw me for my thirtieth birthday, and how he supported me through the loss of my father, and how it felt to give myself to him completely. About the millions of tiny things that added up to a heart full of love.

  Sometimes we laugh, sometimes we’re on the verge of crying.

  When I finally run out of positive things to say about Cortez, I figure it’s time to fill in the rest. I tell Rogan about the call I got that beautiful summer day. How the asshole on the other end of the line had threatened to throw the man I loved in a dank military jail after a brief tribunal where he’d have no shot at innocence or escape.

  It’s not that Cortez left that bothers me. I understand his obligations and that he incurred them before he met me. It was how he’d stamped himself indelibly on my soul before going with no intention of returning that destroyed me.

  Cortez loved me that final perfect time, then cut me loose. For a man in a submissive role, it was the equivalent of being left floundering in rough seas, drowning.

  I relied on him. Trusted him.

  Finally, I admit to Rogan how I’d begged Cortez to return to me. Promised to wait. And how that hadn’t been enough. I wasn’t everything to him like he was to me.

  It was the greatest failure of my life.

  Then it gets even har
der. I have to disclose the horrific way I treated myself and those around me while I was suffering. The dirty deeds I relied on to numb my pain. I also confide how Rogan had burst into my life and stopped that cycle cold.

  “So here I am. Different than I used to be. I’m never going back. I can’t let someone else have control over me. Because I’m not as strong as you or as courageous. And because, honestly, Cortez will always own that part of me. I hope that’s not a deal-breaker for you.”

  “Kaden.” Rogan’s hand is trembling in mine. “I’m so sorry you went through that. I admire you for your loyalty. Those are positive traits, not ones to be ashamed of. I can’t understand how he didn’t cherish you as much as you do him. I appreciate how much you hate Ronaldo right now. To me, Cortez is every bit as foolish and unworthy of your dedication.”

  “They’re nothing alike, Rogan. I promise. Remember that couple from the magazine I told you about? The soldier and his artist wife? I guess it was reading that article that finally made me begin to realize I was being selfish. Deep down, I know Cortez is out there doing things like that guy talked about. Saving people who need him more than I did.” I swallow hard. Even now, it costs me to acknowledge that. Our sacrifice will never be easy. At least I can finally say I believe he did the right thing and mean it. How can I hold his heroism against him?

  “Of course he is. You wouldn’t have fallen so hard for him if he wasn’t a great guy.” Rogan squeezes my hand.

  “Right. Then what’s Ronaldo’s excuse?” I huff. “Sometimes we don’t see when a person is rotten inside. Or maybe they change over time. I don’t know.”

  “Actually…” Rogan looks away then back. Good thing. I won’t let him hide after I’ve laid myself bare. “I’ve been doing some soul searching myself. I think I’m ready to come clean too. I never loved him.”

  The guilt and relief that washes over his features when he says it out loud makes me sure it’s the truth.

  “So why’d you stay together?” I brush my thumb across the inside of his wrist.

  “I wanted to love him. And I felt horrible, because I didn’t. Like I wasn’t capable of that kind of emotion after being a coldhearted businessman for so long or some shit like that. If he treated me badly, it seemed like a fitting punishment for my apathy. I did try to leave him once, a few years ago. But…”

  “He’s a manipulative bastard and he twisted your feelings around then used them to keep you trapped,” I sum up, helpfully.

  He nods. “It’s also hard to know what love is. How consuming it is and how impossible to identify until you’ve experienced it for real.”

  As if he doesn’t want to scare me away, he doesn’t make any claims. He doesn’t need to. I understand that he’s telling me he’s only recently gotten a taste of what the full-blown thing might feel like.

  I, on the other hand, recognized it immediately.

  It’s overwhelming and terrifying.

  Neither of us admits the strength of the emotion pulsing between us tonight. It’s obvious. It could become something legendary. If we don’t fuck it up.

  I don’t say that, settling for this instead. “I’ll tell you one thing. You and Ronaldo were together for years. Cortez and I only had a few months together. Time isn’t what makes that magic happen. It might make it stronger, or give it the chance to fade away, but how long you’ve known someone isn’t a critical factor in how much you love them.”

  We leave it at that.

  “I understand now, Kaden. What you want, and how that can work for us. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m glad you loved Cortez and that your relationship with him opened you up to a future with me. That doesn’t mean I forgive him for trampling on your heart, though.”

  That makes two of us. Could Rogan be any more perfect? “Every minute I was away from you sucked. I have no intention of making that mistake—the same fuck up Cortez made with me—again. So whatever you need from me, I’m here to give it.”

  “In that case…” Rogan lifts his chin and dares me to take action. “My bedroom is down that hall over there.”

  21

  Kaden

  “Yeah?” I can’t believe this is actually happening.

  Though I dreamed it might, I was too afraid to trust it would.

  It’s the best reward I could have imagined for ripping myself open and showing Rogan the gory bits inside me. Instead of shrinking from them and my admission that I still love another man, he’s embracing them.

  I have to show him how I feel. Words are no longer enough.

  Shooting to my feet, I almost knock the fancy chair onto the exotic-hardwood floor. Instead of wasting time circumnavigating the table, I hurdle over it, skidding on my hip until I fly off the far edge and land at Rogan’s feet.

  He stares at me in shock then bursts out laughing. He’s still cracking up when I put my hands on either side of his strong jaw and draw him toward me so I can crush our mouths together.

  I should say thank you for his patience and empathy. Promise that I appreciate a second—or is this the third?—chance. To do that I would have to stop kissing him, though. And I’m not about to do that anytime soon.

  Instead, I glide my hands down his neck to his shoulders then beneath his arms. I pull him toward me until he has no choice but to wrap his legs around my waist to jockey close enough to satisfy my urging. I cup his ass in my palms, still eating at his lips, swallowing his moans.

  His erection is palpable where it mashes against my abdomen.

  We could fuck right here on the floor, like we did in my studio. That’s not quite what I have in mind. I’d like to show him another side of me, one that I’ve withheld from each of my casual flings for the past two and a half years.

  Reminding myself of my intentions, I gentle my caresses and slow the glide of my tongue against his. Carefully, I walk us in the direction he’d indicated, toward his room.

  I don’t have to ask which it is when I see the soft glow of LED lights splashing onto the wall behind a chocolate leather headboard. It’s exactly the place you’d imagine a corporate mogul would sleep. Not my Rogan—the man behind the Clearwater empire.

  His skin deserves to be bathed in candlelight, not this synthetic glow.

  I advance until my knees hit the mattress, then lean forward, placing him carefully on the soft, if sterile, stark-white bedding. He blinks up at me when I finally separate us, just long enough to rid him of the socks, T-shirt, and sweats he must wear to bed.

  I’m thrilled to see he’s not wearing anything underneath. Dressed down, Rogan is mouth-watering. Naked, he’s even more scrumptious.

  “Kaden?” he asks, peering up at me. His arms and legs are spread, open for the taking.

  I won’t be able to deny anything he requests. “Yeah?”

  “May I undress you? Touch you?” He lifts his good hand toward my abs. Instead of shrinking from his tentative exploration, or pinning him down as I would have in the past, I lean in.

  Where his fingers slip beneath the hem of my polo and make contact with my skin, they thrill me. I let him investigate.

  Rogan sits up. He kneels on the bed and inches closer. I clench my teeth against the onslaught of pleasure as he worships my body. He follows his fingers with his lips, kissing my torso as he walks the shirt up, up, up.

  When he finally pulls it over my head and tosses it aside, he starts again at my navel then glides downward instead.

  I spear my fingers into his hair and guide his mouth to the places I crave his touch most. He moans against my body before nuzzling my cock through my pants.

  “Go ahead, get rid of them.”

  Rogan uses a combination of his teeth and his free hand to strip me. He doesn’t stop there. He opens his mouth, warm breath tempting me to plunge inside.

  Not before protecting him, first.

  I bend over and retrieve my wallet, then withdraw the condom from inside. I hand it to him. “Put it on me.”

  Rogan fumbles the packet as he struggles
with his injured hand. I’m not cutting him any slack. He’s plenty capable.

  “Use your mouth if you have to.”

  “God, yes.” He tears the foil with his teeth then sets the latex on the tip of my dick with his left hand before covering it with his lips. His tongue nudges the rolled up condom, encasing my shaft.

  It takes a painfully long time. I enjoy every moment of his efforts.

  When I’m completely sheathed, I use my grip on his hair to direct him. “Good job, Rogan. Now suck it. Deep.”

  He groans then slides down my cock, gagging only a tiny bit when I press against the back of his mouth. I shift, prepared to retreat, but he isn’t deterred, taking me down his throat and swallowing around me.

  I reach for his good hand and draw it toward my crotch. He cups my balls and rolls them gently between his fingers.

  Rogan needs no instruction. He’s an all-star cocksucker. I let him play as much as he likes, until my thighs are quivering from the effort it takes not to shoot right here and now. No, I have other plans for him tonight. Ones I need my erection for.

  I indulge him in a few last licks and sucks before I place my hand on his collarbone and hold him in place while I withdraw. He smacks his lips and practically purrs as he stares up at me.

  I can’t keep myself from leaning down and kissing his lush mouth. I get lost in how he sucks my tongue as skillfully as he did my dick. Eventually, I remember my intent.

  I bite a trail along his stubbled jaw before growling in his ear.

  “Turn around. Get your ass up in the air.” He obeys without question as I climb onto the bed with my knees between his thighs. “Now put your face flat on the bed.”

  He does, the angle making his cheeks part, granting me access to every bit of him. Cock, balls, and the hole I want to fuck so slow and deep it drives us both insane.

  “Yes, please fuck me. Kaden I need you inside me.”

  “Not yet.” I spank his firm ass a few times, simply because I can’t get enough of the tightness against my palm. “I’ll fuck you when I’m ready. Understand?”