by Witt, L. A.
And I hadn’t expected to want to break down in tears right there in his arms from the sheer relief of being touched. Up until this moment, I hadn’t realized how much I’d been starving for physical contact with another man. Jesse’s fingers sliding through my hair, his chest pressed up against mine, his slim torso in my arms—the sheer heat and presence of him made my emotions go haywire. I hadn’t thought about getting intimate with anyone in ages, and now I couldn’t believe I’d gone so long without.
He touched his forehead to mine. We were both out of breath, trembling a little and panting like we’d been making out instead of just letting a soft kiss linger.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for days,” I breathed.
“Yeah?” His voice sounded uneven.
“Yeah.” I stole another one. Briefer. Lighter. No less mind-blowing. When I broke away, Jesse’s smile was sweet and serene, his eyes heavy-lidded.
“If it’s not obvious,” he whispered, “I really like the way you kiss.”
My pulse went haywire again. “Do you?”
“Mm-hmm.” He drew me into another kiss, and this time there was nothing brief or light about it. He was bold and insistent, sliding his tongue past mine and gripping my scalp tight enough to make it sting. Whatever caution either of us had brought to the table was gone now, and we gave in to the need for something deeper and hotter.
All at once, though, my nerves surged back with a vengeance. Sure, I’d made it this far without spontaneously combusting, but I wasn’t so sure I was ready to fall into bed with someone. From here, sex seemed like a potential minefield, one I didn’t know if I could tiptoe through tonight. Not without tipping my hand and showing some emotions and baggage that would probably kill the mood for Jesse. I should—
He broke the kiss abruptly. Our eyes met again, and we were both totally out of breath, staring, trembling. There was panic in his expression that mirrored my own, but hell if I could figure out where it had come from. Was he just picking up on mine? Or was there something on his mind too?
“You okay?” I asked.
“Yeah, I . . .” He licked his lips and dropped his gaze. “This wasn’t how I thought things would play out tonight.”
“Same here.” Though now that it had happened, it made sense. Of course we’d wound up kissing under a streetlight beside his car. How else could the night have gone?
Still avoiding my eyes, he chewed the inside of his cheek. That subtle panic radiated off him. I couldn’t begin to tell what it was all about, but it did nothing to alleviate my own.
I cleared my throat. “Listen, um . . . we don’t have to go any further than this.”
His head snapped up. “What?”
“I’m . . .” I shifted uncomfortably, which made me brush against him everywhere we’d been softly touching, and I had no idea how my brain didn’t short-circuit from that alone. “I’ve been out of the dating pool for a while. Whatever this is—whatever we’re doing—would . . . would you be opposed to taking it slowly?”
The tension in his features softened, and he tilted his head. “Opposed to— No. No, definitely not.” As he exhaled, I didn’t miss the distinct relief in his eyes and his posture. “I think I’d rather go slow too.”
It was my turn for a relieved sigh. “Okay. Good. Good. Then . . .” I struggled to find the words. “We, um . . .” Well, shit. Where did we go from here?
Jesse loosened his embrace. “I should go anyway,” he whispered. “I have to open tomorrow.”
I nodded, disappointment and another wave of relief vying for dominance in my chest. “Yeah. You, um, coming by the bar tomorrow night?”
He searched my eyes in the low light. “If you still want me to.”
“Are you kidding?” I cupped his face and traced his prominent cheekbone with my thumb. “That’s been the highlight of my day lately.”
Pink bloomed in his cheeks, and that adorable smile curved his slightly swollen lips. “Really?”
I nodded. “You’re good company.”
Jesse laughed softly, shyly, and my knees liquefied. “I’ll be there, then.”
I shouldn’t have been that relieved, but I was, and I almost let it show. “Can’t wait.”
His smile was quick to form, but even quicker to fade, and he searched my eyes. “You don’t mind stopping now, do you? I mean, this isn’t too slow, is it?”
“Too slow?” I blinked. “Because we’re not already fucking over the back of a car?”
Jesse laughed again, more color deepening in his cheeks. “Well, I . . . I mean . . .” His humor faded, and he stared at the ground. “I just mean . . .” He chewed his lip.
“Jesse.” I touched his chin and tipped it up. “Relax. I need things to go slow right now. Like . . . really slow.”
He looked in my eyes. The question was there, but he didn’t ask. Maybe he was afraid if he asked why I wanted to keep it slow, I’d ask why he did. And I didn’t push because I wasn’t ready to explain things. Tonight felt too damn good to weigh it down with grief and guilt.
After a moment, he swept his tongue across his lips. “Maybe we could start with . . . I don’t know. A date?”
“Really?”
He blushed even harder as he smiled, and his eyes darted away. “Why not?”
“It sounds like a good idea to me.” I smoothed his hair. “I don’t know this town very well. Any place you recommend?”
Jesse swallowed. “Not offhand, but I can come up with something and let you know.”
“Okay. I’m looking forward to it.”
“Me too.” He pushed himself up and kissed me again. “I’ll see you sometime tomorrow.”
I smiled. Then I pulled my phone out of my pocket. “I should probably get your number, then.”
“Oh. Right. Good idea.” He took out his phone too, and we exchanged numbers.
As we pocketed our phones, I said, “I’m off at eight tomorrow. That’s not too late to go out, is it?”
“Not at all.”
We held each other’s gazes for a moment before I turned to head back up the street to my truck. It was just as well we hadn’t stolen one more kiss. Every time we touched, I was more and more in favor of taking things further, and I wasn’t entirely sure that was a good idea. He wasn’t pushing for it, which I appreciated more than he probably realized. If a kiss overwhelmed me this much, sex would be way too much.
All the way back to my truck, I grinned like an idiot. I hadn’t felt this good in far too long, and I didn’t even feel guilty about it. If the guilt came crashing in later, I’d deal with it.
But if only for tonight, I felt amazing.
Chapter 9
Jesse
What the fuck was I thinking?
All the way home, that thought hammered itself into my brain. How had we gotten even the least bit physical without me telling him? I’d been too caught up in the moment to stop and think, that was how. Usually, by the time I made it that far with a guy, they knew my status. I always made sure of it. I wanted him to know before he touched me so if he did decide he had a problem with it, at least my skin wouldn’t crawl quite so much. I always told them. Always.
Except this time. And the last time. Fuck.
It wasn’t like this thing with Garrett had come out of nowhere, either. From the moment I’d realized there was more going on than a sympathetic bartender humoring a regular, I’d known there was a chance the flirtation could actually go somewhere. I’d told myself over and over I’d tell him when the opportunity presented itself, even though I knew—holy shit, I fucking knew—from experience that the best approach was to just put it out there and be done with it.
But nooo.
Berating myself, I parked in front of my apartment and shuffled inside. Without even bothering to toss my wallet and keys onto the kitchen counter, I went into my bedroom, flopped onto the bed, and stared up at the ceiling. My lips still tingled from Garrett’s kisses—God, he was good at kissing. Like, mind-blowing good. Once I’d
given him the go-ahead for more than just lips-on-lips, he’d explored my mouth with this quiet enthusiasm, taking his sweet time as he’d teased my tongue, and his lips had moved languidly against mine. If that was a sneak peek of the things he’d do to the rest of my body once we got naked, sign me the fuck up right now.
Except . . .
Except.
I closed my eyes again and cringed. There was no way in hell I’d get into bed with a man unless he knew my status, and on the heels of Charlie’s reaction, I was terrified of showing that card to Garrett. Especially now that I really, really wanted Garrett. It would’ve been a lot easier to tell—and be rejected by—Mr. Random Bartender than Garrett, the amazing kisser I’d been getting to know for the last week. And I would have told him at the first inkling of attraction. Would have.
But I hadn’t. How could I have been so stupid?
Except, when would I have told him? In the beginning when I’d been raw and hurting after Charlie? Or when we’d started getting into that gray area between being kind of friendly and kind of flirty? When was it too soon and when was it too late?
God, fuck you, Charlie, for making me feel disgusting.
Not that it mattered. Blame Charlie, blame myself—nothing changed the fact that I still had to tell Garrett. I was scared to death to face him. Just the thought of seeing him tomorrow night turned my stomach.
He wanted to take things slow. Fine. So where did, By the way, I’m positive, fit into that? When would it be too soon? When was it too late? Was it already? Fuck, it had been too late before he’d even kissed me. Except, when I realized that kiss was about to happen, my mind had blanked of anything that wasn’t how those full lips would feel against mine or how my body would fit against his broad, solid frame (amazing and perfectly, it turned out).
Damn it. This was exactly why I told guys upfront—I sucked at finding the right time once I’d gotten to know them. But I didn’t go around announcing it to everyone I encountered on the off chance we might decide to have sex in the future.
Should’ve just slipped it into conversation at some point while we’d been talking about other shit. Or told him exactly why Charlie had stood me up instead of blowing it off as the guy being an asshole. It would’ve been the perfect opportunity to put it out there and let Garrett decide how he felt about it.
But nooo. My dumb ass had to hold off until we’d already blown past the point of obvious mutual attraction, and now I had to find the thing I hated the most—the right moment to put this out there—and hope he didn’t turn into an asshole like Charlie had.
I shuddered. I didn’t think I could handle that kind of rejection twice in rapid succession. Not from guys I’d gotten to know enough to give a shit about.
Fuck.
* * *
“Earth to Jesse?” Dexy waved a hand in front of my face.
I shook myself and turned to her. “Hmm?”
She cocked her head. “You’re a space cadet today. What’s up?”
“Nothing. Nothing. I’m . . .” I searched for a topic to pull us away from this train of thought. Clearing my throat, I motioned toward the back. “Has DHL been here yet? We’re supposed to get a shipment of—”
“No, they haven’t. Don’t change the subject.”
I scowled at her. “I’m fine, okay? Just . . . didn’t sleep much last night.”
Normally, that would get a smirk out of her, and she’d ask what his name was. But from the lift of her eyebrows and the creases in her forehead, she could read far enough between the lines to know I hadn’t been up banging someone all night.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
I shrugged. “I guess. It’s . . . kind of a long story.”
She studied me, chewing the inside of her cheek, and I suspected she was debating how far to push. We were friendly, and we talked about all kinds of shit, but we weren’t tight enough to delve into the really personal stuff. Sometimes I had a hard time knowing where the line was, and she was probably trying to figure it out right then too.
Sighing, I broke eye contact. “Don’t worry about it. I’m, uh, going to go make sure the outgoing shipments are ready to go.”
Dexy hesitated but apparently decided not to push. “Okay. Let me know if you need help.”
“Will do.” I slipped through the back door to the table where we boxed up anything that needed to be shipped. Usually stuff going back to manufacturers for various reasons, and occasionally things people had ordered but couldn’t pick up in person. I was in luck—there were three piles of merchandise with shipping instructions on top of them. That would keep me busy for ten or fifteen minutes.
While I boxed everything up and filled out the labels, my mind was almost entirely fixated on last night. And tonight. Oh fuck. Tonight.
I shuddered as I set the packing tape aside. I so wasn’t ready to face Garrett and tell him the truth. It was a familiar sick feeling. I’d once described it to someone as being comparable to getting ready to smash my hand with a hammer. I knew that the sooner I did it, the sooner it would be over, and I knew that the anticipation was sometimes a hell of a lot worse than the result, but it still took a lot to make me finally swing that hammer and be done with it.
I paused between shipments and rubbed my eyes. When I finally told Garrett and he took the news like a civilized adult, I’d feel like an idiot for holding back like this.
Or when he ran for the hills, I’d feel like shit for swinging the stupid hammer.
I needed to tell him. I needed more time.
I needed this over with. I needed to breathe.
Finally, cowardice won me over, and I texted him: Boss needs me for a double shift. Can we postpone till tomorrow?
My stomach somersaulted. It wasn’t lost on me that I was sort of doing to him what Charlie had done to me. I was avoiding him in the name of avoiding an uncomfortable conversation. Ironically, my status was still the crux of that conversation; Garrett just didn’t know it, and instead of him steering clear of me because he didn’t want to be infected, I was doing it to him because I didn’t want to be rejected.
My phone vibrated.
No problem. I’m off tomorrow, so we can meet earlier if you want.
Relief and apprehension mingled in my chest. Okay, I’d bought myself some time. Not enough, but . . . it was something.
And what difference would it make besides giving me one more night to lose sleep? Either he’d reject me or he wouldn’t. Why not just get it over with?
Because rejection hurts more than wondering if it’ll happen.
I wiped a hand over my face and cursed into the silence. My status didn’t rule my love life. It just meant this one awkward obstacle whenever I met someone new. After that, we either kept seeing each other or we didn’t, and that was pretty much the end of it being an issue, but damn I wanted to keep seeing him. Now that I knew how he kissed, I wanted to get him naked, like, now. Most guys—myself included—would be impatient at this point. Take it slow? No, thank you. Whenever things started getting physical, I wanted all the physical. In fact, aside from tonight, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d kissed a man and not taken him to bed that same night. Except . . .
My chest tightened.
Except Charlie.
Charlie, who was chill about most things. Charlie, who was a good kisser. Charlie, who was sweet and kind and understanding. Charlie, who’d stopped wanting me the moment he’d realized I was positive.
Charlie, who was the reason I was terrified to tell Garrett.
I shook the thought away. Just because Charlie had been a twat-waffle about it didn’t mean Garrett would. I was overthinking it. Garrett was mature and intelligent. As much as I’d liked Charlie, I had to admit that maturity wasn’t his strongest point. Okay, so he’d probably say the same about me since I lived and breathed comics and role-playing, but he lived for the nights he could go out and get shit-faced, even though he definitely couldn’t afford them. Not on top of a swank apartment, mountain
s of student loans, and out-of-control credit cards. Despite having a high-paying job, he’d been evicted from two apartments since I’d known him.
The thought gave me pause. As much as we’d gotten along, maybe I had dodged a bullet there. As a friend, Charlie was fun. As a boyfriend . . . maybe not so much.
Garrett, on the other hand, seemed a bit world-weary but rational and even wise. Shit, no wonder he’d grabbed my attention after Charlie. They were polar opposites, which meant I was worrying about nothing. Garrett was way too together and rational to react like Charlie had.
I pushed out a long breath and rolled some tension out of my shoulders. I’d bought myself a little time to pull myself together. Tomorrow night, I’d tell him. It would be okay, and we’d pick up where we’d left off last night.
And, dear God, please let him be as good in bed as his mouth told me he is.
Chapter 10
Garrett
I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror.
I’m really doing this.
I’d shaved. Put on a steel-gray button-up. Done as much as I could with hair this short. It was just as well Jesse had postponed things. Since I had tonight off, I had more time to put myself together. Freak out a bit, but also put myself together.
I’d given up on the tie, and not just because the part of my brain that knew how to tie them had skipped out on me for some reason. A tie just seemed too formal. We were meeting for dinner. There wouldn’t be white linen tablecloths or wine presentations.
Just two guys.
On a date.
Because that was what this was—a date. An actual date.
Oh fuck. What am I doing?
Staring down my reflection, I gulped. The guy in the mirror didn’t offer up any words of wisdom, just a face full of all the nerves I’d been trying to pretend weren’t really there.
Forget nerves—I was scared shitless, and I wasn’t completely sure why.
