Harrisburg Railers Box Set 2

by R J Scott

  “Probably not.” He lifted his gaze from the soda in his hand. Our gazes met and locked. “I guess you’re wondering why I left the other night.”

  “Nope, I have a pretty good idea why you ran. I scare you.”

  His pretty eyes flared for a second, Then he exhaled, the sound desperately sad. “Sort of, yeah.”

  “You kind of scare me too.”

  His gaze warmed just a bit. The impulse to lean into him and put my mouth on his was huge, and I would have and damn the consequences, were it not for the kids running around with inflatable hockey sticks bearing the Railers steam engine logo.

  “I have your coat.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  This was going smoothly. If racing a car off a cliff was smooth.

  “Bet you’re cold without it.”

  He shrugged.

  I was now torn between wanting to suck on his tongue or shake him like a maraca. Both had merit.

  “Gatlin.”

  “Bryan.”

  We both blinked at each other after speaking at the same time. I pushed my way into the awkward silence that followed.

  “Bryan, how about we finish our drinks and go somewhere to talk. I think we really need to do that.”

  He nodded slowly but with conviction. I will not say how happy that bob of the head made me. A baby started crying behind me. I glanced over my shoulder to see Stan’s Erik trying to soothe their fussy son. Stan rubbed the boy’s belly gently, but the tyke was falling into a true screaming fit by the sounds of his increased volume.

  “I am think he has sidesaddle fart,” Stan announced to the room. Several people, probably parents, giggled, and the rest of us just chortled at Stan. “Or is mad over ugly music on radio. Tennant, find us good baby song.”

  “Uh, well, I can’t just pull kids’ music out of the air,” Tennant said.

  “Play something for the boy. That might soothe his jagged temper,” Jared interjected as Noah grew louder. “Ryker always loved people singing to him.”

  “Right, okay, I can play something. Bring him over here.” Tennant wiggled past me. I stepped into a small space on Bryan’s left. Our arms rubbed with warm familiarity, and I was thrilled that he didn’t jerk away from the friction.

  Ten sat on the piano bench, Jared resting his hands on Tennant's broad shoulders. Stan settled on the side of the sofa beside Tennant, Erik lingering behind the big Russian. People began to crowd in. I’d not had a clue that Tennant Rowe knew how to play the piano, although he may have mentioned sheet music for a Panic! At the Disco song during one of his ink sessions.

  “I think I have an old book full of Disney songs,” Ten was saying as he shuffled through a couple of thick stacks of sheet music.

  “It’s behind the Bach,” Jared pointed out. Ten gave him a flashing smile, then tugged the book out from behind loose sheaves of paper filled with lines and musical notes. It was all Greek to me. I love the hell out of music but can’t read a note of it.

  “Right, here we go.” Ten tapped a key, and Noah sniffled a bit, his screaming coming to a fast halt. Stan dabbed at the lad’s round, wet cheeks with a tissue. “Does he like Winnie the Pooh?”

  “Yes, he is big liking Pooh and Piglet. Tigger too!” Stan replied, bouncing the boy on his knee.

  Several of the older kids wiggled through the adults. Ten smiled at them all and then played. Noah’s eyes grew as round as dinner plates, his lower lip stopped trembling. Tennant, with a voice so lovely that it shocked me into stupidity, began singing about going up and down and touching the ground. When another verse started, every parent in that spacious apartment sang along, as were a bunch of kids. Noah was now drooling in glee, his eyes sparkling.

  Bryan’s knuckles brushed the back of my hand. I glanced to the side and wasn't sure what I saw in his gaze. Surprise maybe, mixed with some other strong emotions. Did he want me to take his hand right here? No, surely not. I replied by tickling his knuckles with my index finger. His lips twitched a bit. I felt a little giddy. Imagine a man of my age and horrific track record with romance feeling giddy over something as simple as a mere brush of flesh against flesh. It was insane. I was insane.

  When the song concluded, Noah squealed in delight, the partygoers clapped, and Ten let his head drop back to rest on Jared’s stomach. Our defensive coach leaned down and kissed his boyfriend so sweetly that I ached inside. Talk about envious.

  “Want to go talk now?” Bryan whispered beside my ear.

  “Sure.”

  We kind of faded back through the group of men, women, and kids and slipped outside to make our escape. I took his coat out of the back of my car and handed it to him. He slid his long arms into it, a wobbly smile on his lips.

  “Thanks.”

  “So where do we want to go to talk?”

  “I’m sorry about the last time we were together.”

  Okay. Guess we were talking here. In the parking lot of Jared's somewhat upscale apartment building.

  “Me too,” I replied. “Bryan, we should maybe take this somewhere less drafty than this parking lot.”

  He glanced around as if he had forgotten that we were standing outside. “Right, yeah, uhm, your place?”

  “Sure.” I slid into my car after giving him a self-conscious smile. He followed at a sedate rate. We parked in front of the shop and walked around back, him at my heels, and up the creaky metal stairs. Curled up on the welcome mat was that black cat. He seemed disinclined to move, so I stepped over him after the door was unlocked.

  “Should I leave the door open for your cat?” Bryan asked as he sidestepped the cat snoozing on the mat.

  “He’s not my cat.” I shucked off my coat and flung it to my favorite old recliner. I took a deep breath and turned. Bryan was closing the door gently, as if scared he would pinch the slumbering cat. It was quite the endearing sight. And there it was—that stupid, giddy feeling. For fuck’s sake. This was moronic. You’d think I’d never been kissed before.

  “You want something to drink?”

  “No, I don’t want to have a sloppy head, and we’re going to be opening the season soon.” He took his coat off and laid it right where it had lain before. I couldn’t help but check him out. His black jeans fit him well, as did the long-sleeved shirt he’d pulled over a soft gray vest. “Are you mad at me?”

  “No, not at all. I'm feeling a little ratty, to be honest,” I joked, tugging at my favorite sweater, an old rust-toned one that Rex, the prick, had given me. “This is pretty much dressing up for me.” An old sweater and worn Levi Strauss. Typical Gatlin.

  “You look good. I mean…” He slapped a hand to the back of his neck. “Good, like dressed well for a party. Casual. I always feel like I need to be…uhm, do more.”

  Shit, this was uncomfortable. Erotic pulses danced between us, but I had no idea how to move on them.

  “Let’s sit down.” There, that was good. Sitting was better than standing. Christ on a cracker I was an idiot.

  But we sat after we managed to pick out some music without really looking at each other. We agreed on some Rush before we sat down facing one another.

  “You ever see them live?” Bryan asked, settling into the conversation about music smoothly. Chatting about rock bands wasn’t exactly what I was hoping to do, but if it put him at ease, I’d talk Rush all night.

  “Once, back in the late eighties. I was eight or nine at the time. Garrett, my older brother, was nineteen and took me along. I threw myself all over the place until he agreed to take me. My little sister, Gina, she was just two. She wanted to go as well, but Garrett was not taking a toddler to a Rush show. That was my first rock concert. They were phenomenal.”

  “Did your sister ever get to see them play again? They were touring just a few years ago,” he said, impressing me with his knowledge of the rock world.

  “No, she uh, she never got to see them.”

  This time it was me making a move. It was a fumbling, stupid move, filled with a dopey lunge that ended up
with us bumping noses. Yes, I was going in for a kiss to divert him from asking why Gina never got to see Rush.

  Because I let her die, that’s why. Now fucking shut up and kiss me and ease this pain.

  He tipped his head, his eyes simmering and hot, then opened for me when I moved in to try again. I crawled up over him, his tongue roaming around inside my mouth, his hands sliding under my sweater. I rocked into him a bit, my cock gouging him in the belly. He was a lanky man, powerful legs tangling with mine as we ‘talked about things’. His kisses made me hot and hard, slewing my thought processes until all I could think of was his skin next to mine from head to toe.

  “You’re delicious.” I panted as we wrestled to get my sweater off and then worked on his vest and shirt. When we were bare from the waist up, he grabbed my head, hands big as dinner plates locking to either side of my skull and leading my mouth back to his. We came up for air a few minutes later. “I mean, like possibly the most entrancing taste to have ever touched my taste buds.”

  He smiled. Holy hell, that smile lit up the room. No, it probably lit up the whole freaking block.

  “I like kissing you.” Then he sighed, tugging on my neck until our mouths were fused yet again. I licked deeply, rolling my cock into him, getting a long growl that nearly had me coming in my shorts. That was just not going to happen. Not to a man who could see forty clearly on the horizon.

  “We should…shit,” I gasped, trying to leave his lips and finding it impossible.

  I nuzzled his neck. His fingers worked the flesh on my back, fingertips digging in deep, as I suckled hungrily. A familiar tingle in my balls made me pull back a bit. I sat back on my couch, my lungs working overtime to pull in oxygen. He lay there, back flat to the couch, legs akimbo, lips puffy, and chest working as hard as mine. I placed my hand to his chest, right on his sternum. There was a fine line of dark hair there. It crinkled and tickled my palm. “Now that we got that out of our systems, we really should talk.”

  Bryan licked those swollen lips, then inclined his head.

  Good. Okay. I’d taken control of things before I embarrassed myself.

  “I need a beer.”

  “Go for it. Got any spring water?”

  “Uhm, maybe?” I got up, pushed at the impressive erection trying to bust my zipper, and walked in some discomfort to the kitchen. I had to rummage around to find a bottle of water, but I did and, with something for both of us, went back to sit down beside him.

  “It’s kiwi-flavored. Jess must have left it here for me. She’s big on trying to make me take better care of myself.” I handed him the water and twisted the cap on my beer. Bryan was resting comfortably, his back pressed deeply into the cushions.

  “Not sure I’ve ever had a kiwi,” he mumbled as I leaned up to rest my elbows on my knees, my beer dangling from my fingers. I needed to think of a way to get him to open up a little.

  “No, me either. When did you know you were into classic rock and metal?”

  He sipped his water, made a terrible face which made me snicker, and then handed the kiwi water back to me.

  “Sorry, but that is rank, and I’ve had some awful protein drinks before.”

  “It’s fine. I won’t tell her. So, metal. Tell me how you found yourself wrapped in its seductive arms.”

  I leaned back into the couch cushion. Bryan stared at me oddly. “I like how you phrase things. Like calling rock a seductress. It kind of is though, right? I mean, the lyrics are so pure, so brutally true, that you have to give yourself up to them.”

  “Exactly. Take Rush for example. If you really listen and absorb the words to Free Will, for instance, you’ve got to be—what?”

  His mouth was on mine before I could finish my statement about Rush. Kind of a shame because I had an excellent point to make, but for the life of me when his tongue tangled with mine, I could not recall what that good point had been.

  This time, he pressed his weight into me, pushing me back into and over the arm of the couch, his leg easing between mine. The man was one hell of a kisser. Hungry. Ravenous even. The ridge of his cock rocked into my hip. Both of us sucked in a sharp breath through our noses because we didn’t dare break apart long enough to breathe properly. I wanted him in ways that I’d not wanted a man in…maybe ever. I rubbed my hands over his arms, loving the ebb and flow of his biceps as he thrust that long, hard dick of his against me. My own cock was rigid as well. This petting and humping was fun, but after a few long strokes of my tongue over his, we needed to step this up or call it a night.

  I made a move and shoved my hand between us, searching for his fly, the pressure of his erection against my palm making me groan into his mouth. With a flick of his hips, I found the zipper and tugged it down. The impatient thing that I am, I crammed my hand into his pants, finding the band of his briefs, then slipping under the material. I brushed the head of his cock. A slick trail of pre-cum dampened my knuckles as I searched for the base of his prick. No sooner had I wrapped my fingers around him than he tensed.

  Cursing inwardly, I released him, and he rolled off me to one knee, and then awkwardly he pushed to his feet. Lying there hard as a new two-by-six, short of breath, my balls heavy with want, I looked at him standing by the end of the sofa and wondered if he were getting ready to run yet again. I held his gaze, then slowly got to my feet and walked to him, reaching for him, my fingers running up his neck and then around to cup his skull. I was not going to let him make a dash without trying one last time to tempt him to stay with me. He leaned in for the kiss, and I made damn sure it was one of my best kisses ever.

  Nine

  Bryan

  When we parted, it wasn’t only me who’d been affected by the kisses. Gatlin was flushed, and he smiled at me, and then he leaned in for more.

  And all I could think was what the hell had I done. I was in a relationship, and I’d kissed another man. Jeez, my head is fucked up.

  I was mortified that I’d melted into Gatlin’s arms, and remorse at leading him on warred with arousal. This kissing and then running was getting tiresome, and I had to explain. I quickly shook off Gatlin’s hold and stepped back until my ass hit the table.

  “I’m sorry,” I didn’t have the words to excuse what I was about to say.

  Gatlin stepped closer, a smile curving his lips, his gaze soft and his tattoos clear in the light spilling from the kitchen.

  I wonder what they all mean? There are so many of them.

  I wanted to ask, but that was a level of intimacy I couldn’t go into right now. Not until I cleared the air between us. What I felt with Gatlin was explosive, so much more than the hidden sex I’d had with Aarni. Aarni didn’t kiss or hug or spend ten minutes tracing the shape of my body. Sex with Aarni was rough and fast, and hurtful and angry, Aarni stamping his authority on me as if that was what sex was about.

  And I took it because that was what I thought a relationship was. Aarni was my only frame of reference for what was expected from another man.

  Tonight, I hadn’t even made it to bed with Gatlin, but I swear I’d felt more in that short time than I had after three years of being with Aarni.

  “I have a boyfriend,” I said and waited for the explosion of anger.

  Gatlin stopped prowling toward me. Stopped dead no more than two feet away, his expression morphing from aroused affection to awful understanding.

  I closed my eyes, knowing I deserved whatever Gatlin threw at me. Any and all hate and anger from Gatlin was okay with me as long as he felt better about what I’d done.

  “Jesus. Okay. Look, these things happen. It’s okay,” he said.

  “No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have let things get this far.” Aarni was right. I was nothing more than a cocktease. I opened my eyes to see that Gatlin hadn’t moved an inch. He still looked shocked, but there was no anger there. Instead, there was caution in his gaze, and he was calm, his thumbs hooked into his belt loops.

  I hoisted up my open pants, buttoned them, hot tears pricking my eyes. Cravi
ng Gatlin’s temper was one thing, but all I was seeing was understanding or maybe indifference as if nothing of what we’d done actually mattered enough to waste emotions on.

  “I said, it’s okay,” Gatlin murmured.

  “That’s what I do, you know. I have this man back in Arizona, but I still came up here with you, leading you on. Fuck.” I dragged a hand through my hair and gripped hard. “You have every right to be angry with me.”

  “I’m not angry,” Gatlin said.

  I stiffened at the bewilderment in his tone. “You should be.” I tilted my chin up and pushed my shoulders back. “You can be angry with me, say whatever you want. I led you on. I can take it.”

  Gatlin’s gaze narrowed. “I don’t know what you’re asking for.” He remained confused. “Did you kiss me just to try and make me angry when you told me about a boyfriend?”

  “No! Yes… Fuck, I don’t know.”

  “I’m not going to lie. I’m thirty-eight years old, and I never thought I’d ever have an attraction to someone as instant as what I feel for you. I’m sad, but this isn’t on you. I misread the situation, but I’m a grown man. It’s fine.” He turned from me and picked up his shirt, slipping it over his head to cover the beautiful angel on his back. “Come on, let’s just listen to music and you can tell me about tomorrow night’s game. It’s the first of the season, and I can’t wait to see how the Railers do this year.”

  I listened to the words, the lack of heightened emotion, the acceptance, and something inside me snapped, my heart aching with the pain of it.

  “I can’t,” I said. “I have to go.”

  Gatlin reached for me, but I avoided the hold, scrambled to put on my shirt and jacket, and with those damn tears threatening to fall, I went to the door. Gatlin didn’t try to stop me, only stood there watching, his expression thoughtful.

  “You don’t have to go.” Gatlin wriggled his hands. “I can keep these to myself.” He was apparently trying to ease the tension, but it was all wrong. I needed more; passion and fire and temper.