I’m so gay. And judgmental.
“I’m not quite sure how to say this.”
“The direct approach works for me.”
The corner of Bran’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t smile. Disappointing. He has a nice smile.
“When we met…. No. When I knew Nathan and Paulie were going to set me up, I was glad. Nervous, but glad.”
Kyle braced himself for something racist to come out of Bran’s sexy mouth even as he hoped it wouldn’t. He couldn’t quite silence the echoes of the comments he’d heard from other men about “yellow fever” or how being a size queen meant they weren’t into dating him—even before they’d gotten a look at the goods.
“The day of the funeral, I got test results back. They were negative, but I couldn’t help but think that was only temporary. My father died of breast cancer when I was fifteen.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” Bran blinked rapidly and looked more and more afraid as the moments ticked by. “When the doctor said I was clear and told me to come back in six months… well, I kind of freaked. It had nothing to do with you, but I decided to have as much sex with as many hot men as I could. In case it goes the other way next time.” Bran sipped his pop. The can shook visibly.
“In….” Kyle did the math and realized they were nearing the six-month mark. “Oh, in a few weeks. I’m sorry. I hope you get more good news.”
“Thanks.” Bran shook his head and then went back to studying Kyle’s face. “I’m not saying this right. When I met you, I didn’t want to do that—the whole meaningless sex deal.”
“But a hookup is a hookup.” Kyle surprised himself with the level of bitterness that escaped with those words. He drank and saw his own hand wasn’t steady.
“No, that’s not it at all. It wasn’t just sex for me. Being with you, it was much scarier than that—and that’s why I left that night. I didn’t want to, and I regret treating you that way. I’m not even sure exactly why I left, because I wanted to stay with you so badly.” Bran took a few deep breaths, but that didn’t seem to help. They sounded more like gasps for air than a calming force. He started twice before he could get out more than a strangled syllable. “And after your accident…. I’m not even sure why, but every time I went to Buchanan House, I couldn’t find any words that weren’t moronic. I told myself I didn’t want to take advantage when you were recovering, and that I had no right to expect anything from you, and that you were so far out of my league that surely you had only wanted a hookup, nothing more.”
Wow.
Bran paused, and Kyle tried to figure out what he wanted to say, how to answer that while the earth was still shaking.
“I know you live three hours away, and I don’t deserve it, but I’m asking for a chance to start over. I haven’t felt this way in so long… so I have to try.” Bran ran a hand over his face and up into his hair. His eyes were wide and looked as scared as Kyle felt. But Bran didn’t seem to be finished yet, so Kyle waited. “I’m retiring soon, so it’s not the dead end, perpetually long-distance deal it sounds like. Well, depending on what happens with the doctor.”
Kyle stood and walked to the sliding glass door. Nothing covered it—no vertical blinds or curtains, not even a sticker to keep birds from flying into it. He looked out at the shaggy lawn and overgrown, weedy garden beds. A groan threatened to escape when Kyle realized he wanted to go out and pull weeds, mow the lawn.
He managed to speak instead. “At first, when I realized we were being set up, I couldn’t believe it. Not the setup part—I’ve seen that coming since last Christmas at Paulie and Nathan’s wedding. The part where my friends set me up with a cop.”
Kyle turned to face Bran to soften his words. He knew they sounded worse than he wanted them to. By the rapt expression on his face, Bran was hanging on every one. It wasn’t easy to face him, but even if he didn’t owe this explanation to Bran, he wanted to give it to him. The only way they had a chance was to clear the air.
“One night I left a club by myself. I don’t even remember why—it was so early it was still light out. A few blocks later, I heard someone yelling. I didn’t realize they were yelling at me, so I kept walking. I remember hearing running footsteps, and then I was on the ground, my arms wrenched behind my back and a knee on the back of my neck. They said later that they Mirandized me while they cuffed me, but all I remember is yelling—I couldn’t understand the words. I was locked up for a few hours before they let me go. It was probably by accident that I heard they were looking for a Chinese guy who’d been involved in a robbery.”
Kyle felt there was so much more to say, but also that he’d said too much. He turned back to the glass door. A neighbor had bright lights on in their backyard—maybe more than one—illuminating a group of plum trees that probably hadn’t been pruned for a decade.
The first sign Bran had come up behind him was when Kyle felt heat radiating from his body. Surprised he hadn’t startled, or jumped away, Kyle leaned the slightest bit toward that warmth. He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to tell Bran even that abridged version of what had happened to him any more than he knew whether he was on the cusp of an adventure he would enjoy or another accident waiting to happen, but Kyle knew in that moment that Bran’s next words would tell him whether there would be an adventure at all. History had taught him that Bran would pretend to care, to understand what it had felt like to be presumed guilty because of the composition of his facial features, because some of his ancestors had been born in Japan and not Europe, but it would be obvious that he didn’t. In other words, regardless of what his heart was telling him, Kyle expected Bran to turn out to be another in the long string of assholes he’d attracted. The simple fact that they were attracted to each other proved that, didn’t it?
If Bran did turn out to be that kind of a man, if he had fooled every one of Kyle’s closest friends—his family of choice—into thinking he was the “someone nice” Kyle should be with, what would he do then? Walk out and go boldly into the night and back to his lonely life?
I sure as hell hope he isn’t.
Night had almost fallen while he’d been waiting for Bran to say or do something, but the temperature probably hadn’t dropped as far as Kyle thought.
“I’m sorry that happened to you. You pressed charges, right?”
“No.”
“No?” Bran moved to Kyle’s side, his brow furrowed, the look in his eyes heart-wrenching.
Kyle shook his head and turned back to the yard. Not before catching an eyeful of Bran’s distress, though. It made Kyle uncomfortable that he took it so seriously, but it also gave him a feeling of calm, of peace, that he hadn’t expected. He had intentionally downplayed the incident, as he often did, as much to spare himself from reliving it as to… what? Test Bran’s reaction? Perhaps. Kyle couldn’t help wondering if he would have gone into more detail if Bran had brushed it off. There were plenty more details to share, such as being held in a tiny room, handcuffed to a table while different men came in to demand a confession. Some of the men had pretended to be kind, giving him coffee and offering cigarettes, but others had threatened him and made a show of knocking over their chairs and pounding on the table—one had even put him in a loose choke hold for a few moments before being interrupted by a knock on the two-way mirror.
Even after pulling his punches for Bran, Kyle couldn’t stop himself from going through the ordeal again silently. But he had never felt as calm while doing so before.
That makes no sense. Especially since I’m still not sure which way to jump. If he’s not perfect and I still want him, what does that say about me? Is it enlightened, or am I just a doormat?
“If I’d known you then, I would’ve encouraged you to press charges. Men like that have no business wearing the uniform. Carrying a gun?” Bran shuddered.
“It was a bad time for other reasons. I didn’t even consider it, but I wouldn’t have been able to go through with it if I had.”
Bran reached out.
Even though the distance between them wasn’t physically large, he almost didn’t touch Kyle. Finally he rested a hand lightly on Kyle’s arm, not quite closing his fingers around Kyle’s triceps.
“My mother—it sounds… I don’t know, odd, sad—but I’d lost my mother about a year before and hadn’t really recovered yet.” As the all too familiar feel of tears prickled behind his eyes, Kyle wondered if he would ever fully recover.
“I’m sorry.” Bran’s hand tightened on Kyle’s arm. Just a whisper, but it was enough to show he truly was sorry, enough to make it difficult for Kyle to keep from leaning into his warmth, into his arms. “How did it happen?”
“Car accident.”
“Oh, so suddenly. I’m sorry. At least I had some warning with my dad, had the chance to say good-bye.”
Kyle turned to look into Bran’s face. He wasn’t classically handsome—in fact, he had heard that people thought Bran was ugly—but just then, wearing a tender, concerned expression, he was beautiful. His own smile felt sad, but also hopeful. He’d come with Bran not expecting much of anything, and to have hope renewed was like the sun coming out after a month of rain. Kyle turned his body to face Bran and shivered when Bran’s hand tightened around his arm. Kyle rested his palm on Bran’s chest, felt his rapid heartbeat and his spectacular, rock-hard pecs, and stepped closer still.
“I hate good-byes.”
Bran’s lips parted. Either he was having trouble breathing, or it was an invitation. Kyle chose the latter and ran his hand up to Bran’s neck and into his hair. He dipped his head, had no idea why he was moving so slowly when his body thrummed with the need to kiss Bran. When their lips finally met, Bran shuddered and moaned. For a few moments, they kissed softly—maybe in apology, or exploration, or just trying to find their way back to each other without making a wrong turn, taking a misstep that could make things tense between them again.
After that moment, however, Kyle wanted nothing more than to feel the warmth of Bran’s skin on his. He tried to wrap both arms around Bran but realized he was still holding a can of pop. The table stood just out of reach, so Kyle moved them sideways until the can clunked against it. They both smiled into the kiss, but Bran seemed as reluctant to break it as Kyle. With both hands free, Kyle pulled Bran close. A deep sigh, or perhaps a moan, rumbled in Bran’s chest—Kyle heard it and felt it resonating through their bodies.
When Bran took his first step away from the window, Kyle held on tighter. He wasn’t about to let Bran get away again—not after what he’d seen in his eyes, the way his gaze had touched a cold and hopeless spot in Kyle’s soul and filled him with… not only with desire, but that’s all he could deal with at the moment.
“Is it okay?” Bran spoke with his lips still touching Kyle’s. “I want to make you feel—”
“Oh, yes.”
Bran’s hand slid down Kyle’s back. He couldn’t keep from moaning—that hot hand felt so good, gently kneading his ass, pulling him close. He deepened the kiss to blistering, and then Brandon grabbed Kyle’s hand and led him from the dining room. They reached the living room—another study in browns and greens, of 1970s furniture and nearly bare walls—and Kyle tried to stop.
“Wait.”
Immediately, Bran dropped Kyle’s hand and took a step away. Bran’s expression morphed from desire and need to fear and maybe a little resignation.
Surprise would have been much better.
“What is this place?”
Bran frowned and looked around. “A safe house. Where—”
“I’m familiar with the concept. But who’s stayed here?”
“Not many people. The house itself was willed to the department. As far as I know, only one person has stayed here for more than a few hours. Highway 101 was closed, and we needed to keep a woman safe from her husband until we could find him and get her out of town.”
Kyle blinked. Not the answer I expected. “The 101 closes?”
Apparently that question surprised Bran. Or he thinks I’m slightly insane, which I might be. “Sometimes. The ground can only absorb so much water at one time.”
Slowly, a smile spread across Kyle’s face. It felt good, even if it obviously confused Bran. “As long as we’re not going to be in the same bed a serial killer used.”
Bran took Kyle’s hand again, squeezed briefly, and then ran his palm up Kyle’s arm, moving closer and closer. He palmed Kyle’s shoulder and then teased his fingertips along the skin of his neck just above the collar of his jacket. “As far as I know, nobody’s used the bed in the first bedroom since 1997. Although the master gets occasional use by a couple of guys I know who have roommates.”
The sheets smelled a little musty, and a layer of dust coated the windowsill, but the door hadn’t been closed for the past nineteen years, so all in all it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. That thought made Kyle laugh out loud. Not bad? Try incredible, unbelievable, earthshaking—when Bran turned down the bed by impatiently flinging the blanket and top sheet out of the way and then snaked his hands up under Kyle’s shirt, he was so moved he couldn’t remain standing. He sat down hard on the bed, and Bran kissed him quickly before straightening and unbuttoning his own shirt, their gazes locked and full of promise.
Kyle had never heard the term “paralyzed with desire,” but it popped into his head as he watched Bran remove his shirt. Kyle wanted to take his own clothes off, to help Bran lose his khakis, but he just couldn’t move. He wanted this so badly—had been thinking about it every day for weeks—and the fear that something would stop it from happening was too much. Maybe that has to do with where that something could come from. Me.
“Are you all right?” Bran knelt in front of Kyle and looked up into his face.
When Kyle nodded, he also reached out and buried a hand in the sandy waves of Bran’s hair. Lightly, he drew his fingertips over Bran’s scalp, eliciting a lovely moan. Bran pushed Kyle’s shirt up, exposing his stomach, and leaned close to kiss a path from his waist to his breastbone. Bran’s warm lips, his hot breath against Kyle’s skin, felt so wonderful that Kyle held on to Bran’s shoulders to keep from falling backward onto the bed.
“Oh, God, Bran. You feel so good.”
Bran wrapped his arms around Kyle’s hips, his hands snaking up Kyle’s back and supporting him enough to allow Kyle to slip his shirt off over his head. Almost the moment that was done, Kyle felt himself leaning back as Bran laid him down on the bed. Bran held himself above Kyle and ran his hand over Kyle’s chest. His nipples had never been overly sensitive, but the caress still made his flame burn higher.
“Yes. God, yes, Bran. I’ve thought about this every day.” Kyle slipped one hand over the muscles of Bran’s chest, and with the other he worked at the fly of his jeans. “I want to feel your mouth on me, your tongue.”
Bran surged forward, covering Kyle’s body with his and plunging his tongue deep into Kyle’s mouth. Kyle moaned into the kiss and tried to wiggle free of his jeans, but Bran’s weight pinned him to the bed. Bran’s hand traced the side of Kyle’s body and slipped inside his pants, rubbing his dick. They moaned together, and before the sound faded, Kyle rubbed against Bran’s hard body, his heart racing, his cock throbbing.
Kyle started working his hand between them, toward Bran’s fly, and made a noise of shock when Bran moved off him. Quickly Bran pulled Kyle’s jeans from his legs and off the end of the bed. Bran’s hands froze, his zipper halfway down. When Kyle looked into his face, he saw such naked appreciation that his body flooded with heat. As Bran watched, Kyle took his own cock in hand and stroked it slowly. Kyle had never felt so hot, so sexy as he did while Bran watched him jacking himself.
“Come here—I want your mouth on me. Suck me, Bran.”
A lovely flush crept across Bran’s face and neck, down to his chest, as he covered Kyle’s hand with his own. It drove Kyle crazy how slowly Bran dipped his head, carefully arranging himself between Kyle’s legs. When Bran’s tongue lapped at his slit, Kyle cried out, his body arching toward
that incredible sensation. Bran drew his tongue around the head once, twice, and then sucked it into his mouth.
“Oh, fuck yes. Let me fuck that sexy mouth.”
Bran hummed as he moved his lips down Kyle’s shaft, sucking softly as he took more and more into his mouth. Kyle knew he didn’t have the largest cock, but it wasn’t small either. When Bran’s hot breath caressed Kyle’s stomach and the head of his cock bumped against the back of Bran’s throat, he had to work to keep from coming. Kyle buried his hands in Bran’s hair and bucked his hips. Bran made a noise that sounded like “uh-huh,” so Kyle bucked faster, pulling Bran’s head closer as he did.
“Yes!” Kyle was practically shouting by then. His balls tightened, the familiar zinging of an orgasm building. “Yes, so good. Your mouth, oh fuck, it’s amazing. So hot.”
The next time Bran moaned, Kyle threw his head back as his muscles all snapped tight at once. He cried out, overrun by the lovely waves of pleasure coursing through him. The orgasm felt like it would go on and on… and then Bran increased the pressure, sucking hard and swallowing, and Kyle felt another, smaller wave wash over him.
When he finished coming, Kyle collapsed on the bed, panting and moaning as his skin continued to tingle, every nerve ending feeling alive and spent at once. He groaned while Bran licked him clean. He wasn’t able to do anything beyond feeling—feeling phenomenal.
BRAN HAD never been so turned on by the simple act of giving head to another man before. He’d always enjoyed it—the flavors and textures, having his mouth stuffed full of cock until his face was slick with spit and come—but Kyle made it even more exciting. Watching Kyle’s body move, his muscles tensing and working beneath his soft, tan skin, the moans and dirty talk coming from his lovely mouth, drove Bran crazy with desire, made him feel sexier than he’d ever felt in his life. He wanted to make Kyle scream and then do it again and again and again until he couldn’t take anymore, until he begged for Bran to stop.
Safe House Page 16
