Rebel North

by JB Salsbury

  “You’re shaking,” he says against my lips, a smile tilting his own.

  “What?”

  He kisses me again, a tender brush of his mouth. “You’re trembling.”

  “I feel like I might explode.”

  He pulls himself away enough to see my face.

  I’ve never been one to demand anything from a lover, not before, when I was more confident, and certainly not now. But I fear if he leaves me like this, I might die. I swallow hard and search for my voice. “Don’t stop.”

  He opens his mouth over mine, and I greedily take down his answering hum, the vibration traveling through my blood to settle between my legs. His kiss becomes more urgent. He hooks my thigh with his knee, opening me wider as he grinds deeper and rougher. I gasp, groan, try to catch my breath, but he dominates me with a savageness I can’t resist.

  I’m restless. Too many clothes. His erection grows harder. His movements faster. My breasts feel heavy and neglected. With my free hand, I pull up my shirt, needing to feel his skin on mine.

  His chest brushes my bare nipple, his chest hair creating the perfect friction that sends bolts of pleasure straight down.

  “You feel so good,” he says into the kiss. His lips trail down my throat, and he hovers over my breast. “Fuck.” The word is groaned a second before his mouth covers my breast.

  My back arches off the bed. All the air escapes my lungs.

  “Beautiful,” he whispers.

  His words tighten the coil within. He throws more power behind his hips. The tension becomes blissfully unbearable. He releases my breast, and my tender, wet nipple rakes against his chest. He couldn’t know what the sensation does to me, couldn’t possibly understand what his touch means.

  He kisses me again, this time without restraint. He sucks my tongue and bites my lips until my body taps out, and I let go.

  The first wave of release crashes into me. The seal of our kiss is unbreakable as I cry out, and he greedily swallows every sound. He doesn’t let up but continues to move between my legs, helping me ride out the ecstasy and tempting a second.

  He sucks in a shuddered breath, his body stills, and he kisses my throat.

  I tremble as I float back to the present. He paints my cheeks in worshipful kisses, bringing me back slowly.

  When I finally come down, the slam of reality is a dousing of cold water.

  “Oh, God, I’m so sorry.”

  His lips still against me. He pulls back and studies my expression as if I’m a bomb in danger of going boom. With a long-suffering sigh, he rolls away from me, finally releasing my now-useless hand. I bring my forearm to my face, hoping to cover the wave of red shame that paints my cheeks.

  “You didn’t do anything you need to be sorry for.” He curses softly. “I’m the one who should be sorry.”

  My lips tingle and embarrassment tightens my chest. The wet fabric between my legs intensifies my guilt. I flex my numb hand.

  “Shit.” He takes my hand between his, forcing me to roll to my side to face him, and massages my knuckles and fingers. “You should’ve told me to let go of your hand.”

  I stare at his chest for fear of the rejection I might see in his eyes. “I didn’t want you to.”

  He continues to rub my palm in silence, and I continue to look everywhere but at his face, even while I can feel him looking at me. “Feel better?”

  No, don’t stop. “Yes, it’s fine.” I tuck my hand back to my chest.

  “I’ll be right back.” He gets out of bed, and I watch his tall silhouette move across the room to his closet. He doesn’t turn on the light, and I’m ashamed to admit that I wish he would so I could see him more clearly. A drawer opens, and there’s a shuffling of fabric. He walks back to bed wearing different pajama pants.

  How embarrassing! He probably couldn’t get his pants off fast enough, my wetness on them a reminder of what he did with a woman.

  “I should go.” I move to sit up only to have him throw an arm over me and pull my back to his chest.

  “Stay.”

  “I’m not a dog.”

  He snuggles deeper against my back, my ass sitting perfectly in the bend of his hips. “Please stay?”

  I should go. I really should. Just pull out of his arms, get an Uber, and say goodbye. On three… One. Two. Three. Go.

  “Are you comfortable like this?” he says.

  No. I’m embarrassed and need to leave! Ugh, but also… “Yes.”

  “So you’ll stay?” There’s an irresistible boyish hope in his voice.

  I don’t want to go, but I also don’t want to face the shame and humility in the morning. Either way, I lose. “Yeah. I guess I’ll stay.”

  The band of his arm around my middle tightens.

  I can’t imagine I’ll get any sleep tonight, not with my mind grappling with the fact that I made out with my gay best friend. Or worse, my gay best friend gave me the best orgasm of my life without taking off any of my clothes.

  The morning is going to suck, and I’ll need to apologize a million times over, but for now, I’ll enjoy being in his arms and lie to myself that I somehow belong here.

  Eventually, I drift off to sleep, and somewhere in the dark, I hear whispered words…

  I missed you, Bee.

  Sixteen

  Kingston

  I never did fall back to sleep. I held Gabriella in my arms, against my body, for three and a half hours, wide awake. And I could have done it all day.

  I finally peeled myself away when I heard my phone ring and only because I didn’t want it to wake her up. I’ve been tiptoeing around my place ever since because I know this will be the last time I get her in my bed, and I selfishly want her to stay as long as possible.

  But the truth stared me right in the face last night—her regret.

  Her apologies were hard enough to hear, but her expression was worse. The embarrassment that shone in her eyes, the guilt, was all over her face. She thinks she seduced a gay man into her arms, and she’s beating herself up for it.

  If she only knew the truth.

  She’d call me a liar and write me off for good.

  The sound of her bare feet on the stone floor calls my gaze from my coffee to the hallway. I frown when I see she’s no longer wearing my clothes but has changed into what she had on last night. Her face looks freshly washed, hair pulled to the side and braided—she’s ready to leave. A rock settles heavily in my chest.

  “You should’ve woken me up,” she says shyly without making eye contact.

  “You seemed comfortable.” Both in my bed and in my arms, but I keep that information to myself.

  She sits on the couch where she left her sandals from last night and busies herself with the straps. “I was.” She dips her chin to try and hide the pink stains on her cheeks, but it’s pointless.

  “Coffee?”

  “No, thank you. I’ll get some at home.”

  “Don’t rush off. Let’s grab some breakfast.”

  Finished with her shoes, she joins me in the kitchen, taking the opposite side of the island, and I hate the obstacles between us.

  She folds her hands in front of her and stares at the marble countertop. “Kingston, I think we need to talk about last night.”

  I take a sip of coffee to swallow back what I really want to say.

  “Listen.” She blows out a breath before finally meeting my eyes, and when she does, our gazes hook to form an invisible tether between us. We’re helpless to look away, and a surge of energy speeds my pulse. “Um…” Her throat bobs, and she blinks and tears herself away, breaking the spell. “I think the only way to get through what happened last night is to just be brutally honest—do you think you could put a shirt on for this conversation?”

  “Am I that distracting?” I’m half joking, mostly desperate to hear that she’s just as affected by me as I am by her.

  The memory of her falling apart beneath me, in my bed, her tongue in my mouth… fuck. My dick is so hard that I could make dust
out of the island between us to get inside her.

  “You are.” She sighs as if conceding. “You are very distracting.”

  My chest swells with pride, and I hide a satisfied smile behind my mug.

  “As you know, I haven’t been with a man in…” She blows out a breath. “A really long time. I took advantage of your closeness last night, and I’m sor—”

  “Don’t.” I set down my coffee and grip the edges of the counter to keep from lunging for her mouth. “I went after you last night, not the other way around.”

  Her brows pinch together. “No, you didn’t. I mean, you wouldn’t. You’re not attracted to women.”

  “I never said that.”

  Her lips part, close, then part again. “But… you’re gay.”

  I cringe because I have to deliver the blow, and I hate the thought of how it’ll land. “I never said that either.”

  Her surprised chuckle is followed by a look of severe concentration. “You’re saying you’re…”

  Straight. I nod.

  “Oh.” She frowns, studies the wall just over my shoulder, then shrugs. “You did talk about being with women before, I just thought you were denying who you were back then.”

  I can’t stand it any longer, so I move around the island toward her.

  “I guess it makes more sense.”

  I nod, allowing her to work it out in her head, repaint me as a heterosexual male who wants to kiss her again more than I want my next breath.

  She smiles up at me as I stand just a foot away from her.

  “Do you feel better now? Knowing you didn’t take advantage of your poor, unsuspecting gay friend?” I reach out for her hand, but before I can get to it, she grabs her buzzing phone.

  “My Uber is here.” She wraps her arms around my waist.

  I hold her close. The feel of her cheek pressed against my bare chest has me envisioning us in bed, just like this, but with a lot less clothes.

  “I feel so much better,” she says and, all too soon, pulls out of my arms. “We’re cool, right?”

  Oh, Bee, we’re way fucking more than cool. I nod and try to pull her back into my arms, but she ducks away from me and heads to the door.

  “I’m not giving up on you, ya know,” she says as she opens the door. She pushes the elevator button and looks over at me as I’m left standing stunned in the doorway. “I’m still going to be your wingman, and we are going to find you a super-hot guy—”

  “Wait… what? I told you—”

  “You’re bisexual. I know.” The doors to the elevators open. “I just think I’d be better at man hunting with you than I would at woman hunting. You have your brothers for that!” she calls out through the closing elevator doors. “We’ll talk soon!”

  “Bisexual?” I drop my head back and groan.

  She finds it easier to believe I’m bisexual than she does to believe I’m interested in her.

  I close the door and head straight back to bed.

  If I had any sense at all, I’d let Gabriella go. Only I can’t think of how to do that now that I’ve tasted her mouth and felt her tremble beneath me. The memory alone is going to make me dirty another pair of pants. I stare at my bedroom door and wonder if the sheets still smell like her. Only one way to find out.

  Seventeen

  Kingston

  “Well, aren’t you cheery this morning,” the snake says as she swings her hips into my office.

  “Am I?” I’m still riding the high of my night with Gabriella.

  “You were smiling before you saw me walk in, so I know I can’t take any credit for your good mood.” She circles around my desk and props her hip at my eye level. “Good weekend then?”

  My answering grin says it all. I rock back in my chair to gain some distance. “I assume you’re here for a reason?”

  “Yes. Did you update yourself on the Randolph job? Because we’re meeting with their team this afternoon, and I’m going to need you up to date on all the changes.”

  “I’ll do my best.” Which is to say, I won’t do shit.

  Her grin is shrewd, nothing at all like Gabriella’s infectious joy. “I tell you what.” She snags the folder I had pushed to the corner of my desk when she gave it to me days ago and drops it in front of me. She opens to the first page. “Why don’t you start now.”

  I stare at the white page covered in inkjet-printed words.

  She pushes away from my desk and walks around it, pacing. Slowly. “Go ahead and read it out loud.”

  I’m trapped. If I do what she’s asking, she’ll know my most shameful secret. If I don’t? Well, something tells me she’s already figured it out.

  I close the folder and push it aside. “What do you want from me?”

  She paces the length of the office, hands clasped behind her back. “As a concerned department head, I scheduled a meeting with Hayes to discuss the terms of your transfer.”

  Her words cause an icy ball of dread to settle in my gut.

  “He thinks you’re lazy.”

  “You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know.”

  “I’m changing up the offer we discussed.” She braces her hands on the opposite side of my desk and leans in. “Give me dirt on August, and I’ll keep your little secret.”

  “Are you stupid?” I stand, and she throws her shoulders back, arrogant and confident. “I’m going to ask you to leave now, and if you leave me alone and let me continue collecting my paycheck, I won’t tell August about this little visit.”

  “Cute threat, but I’ll only deny it. And who do you think dear old dad is going to believe? Me, a Harvard-educated department head, or his loser son who can’t even read—”

  “I can read!” I fist my hands on my thighs.

  “Imagine the embarrassment. August North and his illiterate son.”

  “Fuck you!”

  “The Shaq. Friday night. Seven thirty. You have until then to give me what I want, or I’ll expose you.”

  She walks out of the office, leaving a trail of bitch vibes in her wake.

  “I quit.”

  Alex doesn’t look up from his desk.

  So I continue to speak to the top of his head. “I’m not kidding. I’m done. I’ll sell my condo and buy a nice little loft somewhere.”

  He grunts, still not looking at me. “Then what?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I’ll get a job.”

  “Doing?”

  “Stop making everything sound so impossible.” I run my hands through my hair and stare out the window, hoping the view will calm the anxiety.

  Coleman’s visit today has been totally screwing with my head. I have no love for August. He’s always treated me as if my existence is a nuisance. He swept me under the rug even after I came to live with him, and he’s never considered me as one of his own. From the outside looking in, I’m sure his financial contribution to my life appears as love, but to August, money is like running water—always available to him to wash his filthy soul.

  So why not give Coleman what she wants?

  I should enjoy watching the man brought to his knees. If August goes down, I’m freed from the burden of North Industries while keeping my embarrassing secret intact.

  What the fuck am I waiting for?

  Alex’s desk chair creaks when he rocks back in it to finally look up at me. “You’ll need a job if you’re going to break from North Industries.”

  I rub my hands down my face. “I’ll live off the money I make from selling the condo until I figure something out.”

  “You can’t sell the condo because it belongs to the company.”

  Ugh, that’s right. Dammit! I fall back into the closest chair. “And so, it would seem, do I.” Unless I scrape up some damning dirt on August.

  Another grunt.

  “I hate it here.”

  His expression is blank. I imagine he’s going over a million scenarios in his head. Alex, the practical genius. “August shot down your idea about the design department.�
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  “He doesn’t pay me for my little ideas,” I repeat August’s words, and a fresh anger wells up inside me.

  Alex’s eyebrows drop to a scowl. “Come to dinner tonight.”

  “I don’t think dinner is going to fix—”

  “Six o’clock.” He stands and moves to his drafting table. He gives me his back, dismissing me.

  “Why? Who all is going to be there?”

  He ignores me.

  “Please don’t invite Hayes. I can’t handle the smug bastard’s face when he sees how miserable I am.”

  He doesn’t seem to even hear me.

  “Can you at least tell me what the dinner is for?”

  Nothing.

  “Fine, be weird about it.” I get up to leave when it’s clear I’ll get no further with him. “I’m bringing a date.”

  He grunts. “Good. Bring Gabriella.”

  “Oh, so you can hear me?”

  “Jordan likes her.”

  The guy has a one-track mind, so I cut my losses and head back to my office.

  I pull my phone out and send a text to Gabriella.

  SOS

  Gabriella

  I stand at Kingston’s front door and read the last text he sent me one more time before I let myself inside.

  Come on in when you get here.

  Walking in without knocking feels wrong, mostly because I fear I’ll walk in on him naked. I’m not afraid of seeing him naked as much as terrified he’ll see my reaction to seeing him naked. And all this thinking is so pointless because what happened the other night was a fluke. Two consenting adults, half asleep and willing. What we did doesn’t mean anything.

  I’ve been telling myself that what we did meant nothing since the night it happened, and while I’m able to convince my brain, I can’t seem to convince my heart.

  “Hello?” I call into the open door in warning before I walk through it. “Kingston?”

  “Back here!”

  His voice comes from down the hallway. I assume he’s in his bedroom. I walk slowly down the hall, my hands balled at my stomach as butterflies feast on my nerves.