The Delicious Series: The First Volume

by Stella Starling

  “I… what?” Jeremy asked, adrenaline making him feel a little dizzy. “You’re not going to die?”

  “Nope,” Nick said, looking reassuringly lifelike as he held the truck door open for Jeremy. “Not even allergic to nuts. Just trying to give you an out, J.”

  Jeremy stared at him for another minute while his brain processed the not-dying that was apparently happening. Then he grinned.

  “You’re not making it easy to break up with you, Nick,” he said, sliding across the seat and buckling himself into the middle.

  “Sorry,” Nick said unapologetically. “But you looked a bit like a deer caught in the headlights when she asked about your books, and you know I’ve got your back. Team Us for the win, yo. But if you’d rather go back in and break up…”

  “Um, no, that’s okay,” Jeremy said, his smile growing the way it always did around Nick, until his cheeks felt stretched to the breaking point, but in a good way.

  Nick started up the truck and dropped his hand to rest in its standard spot on Jeremy’s knee.

  “I’m in no hurry,” Jeremy added.

  “Good, because we left before dinner. Wanna go grab a bite to eat?”

  “Sure,” Jeremy said, proud of himself for the fact that his answer came out sounding as casual as Nick’s question.

  Nick had totally not just asked him out on another faux-date.

  They were just two guys.

  Grabbing food.

  And even though Jeremy knew there would be no getting naked afterward, he suspected that it would still be the best second not-a-date he’d been on in a while.

  Well, okay. Ever.

  6

  Jeremy

  The only downside to dinner with Nick had been not getting to sit close enough to touch him while they ate. Jeremy may or may not have been becoming addicted to the million moments of casual contact that Nick obviously felt were part of his acting-like-Jeremy’s-fake-boyfriend duties, and Jeremy’s addiction meant that his feelings about the bench seat in Nick’s truck had escalated from mere appreciation to rabid fandom.

  As soon as they pulled away from the restaurant, Nick’s hand found its way back to his knee, proving that Jeremy’s love for the bench seat was fully justified. Because Nick’s hand on him? Heaven. Always.

  “This okay, Pumpkin?” Nick asked.

  The question surprised him, because a) um, yes. Obviously. But also, b) Nick had been doing it every time they were in the truck together. Why ask now?

  Oh.

  Oh.

  Because… Nick was sliding his hand higher, which meant Jeremy went from feeling warm and fuzzy to rock hard in the short space between one breath and the next. Actually—to quote his new favorite six-year-old—that might not be entirely accurate, because he may have actually just stopped breathing completely.

  Jeremy really hoped that was the effect Nick was going for—giving him a raging hard-on, not the whole failure to breathe thing—otherwise they were both going to be embarrassed.

  This was not “faking it” territory.

  This had moved into the oh-my-God-I-might-just-die-for-real-if-you-don’t-keep-going-and-touch-my-dick-right-now zone.

  And then Nick did.

  He covered Jeremy’s bulge with one of those overheated hands—Jesus Christ the man really was a living furnace—and twisted around in his seat to face him.

  “Is that a yes?” he asked, giving Jeremy one of those ridiculously sexy winks.

  Jeremy may have nodded or said something or… something. Or maybe not. Luckily, Nick was a smart guy. He obviously got that the whole my-dick-is-jerking-under-your-touch thing meant yes.

  Hell, yes.

  OhmyfuckingGodisthisreallyhappeningYES.

  Nick unzipped him, and seriously, Jeremy almost came just from that.

  God, how many times had he jerked off to thoughts of Nick already? Okay, well, no need to go there. It’s not like he’d actually been keeping track, but it was definitely in the double digits. Still, as much as he’d thought about it, as often as he’d tried to read something real into Nick’s play-acting, he hadn’t really, honestly, truly believed that anything would ever happen between them. Jeremy’s love life just didn’t work that way. Even without the whole not-gay aspect, he’d figured that Nick’s failure to have a fatal flaw pretty much guaranteed that they would never get together.

  But Nick did seem to genuinely like him.

  And Lord knows, he definitely liked Nick.

  And now Nick had his hand on Jeremy’s dick.

  Which felt unbelievably good—mind-bogglingly good—and he was also kissing him. For real, this time, not the wrist thing. Although that had been pretty awesome, too. And they were finally getting naked. They were naked! On the bench seat! And they were—

  Wait.

  What?

  They were driving… right?

  They couldn’t be naked and driving, too.

  Shit.

  Jeremy pinched himself. Hard. Was he dreaming?

  Yes.

  Damn it.

  Jeremy’s eyes popped open, and he stared up at his ceiling, wanting to kick himself. Enough with the pinching, already. That was one dream he would have definitely preferred not to wake up from. He kicked his blankets off in frustration, flopping over onto his side with a frustrated groan. He had had a nice time at dinner. And Nick had, in fact, put his hand on Jeremy’s knee again on the drive home. But then he’d dropped Jeremy off and left. Without a kiss. Or making any firm plans to see each other again. Also, it went without saying, without any dick touching.

  Although that last bit was not going to last for long, because for real, there was no way Jeremy was going to be able to get back to sleep while still sporting this tentpole action. He would have liked to, though, if it could have meant picking up where the dream had left off. But no, even if it had been possible, dreams never seemed to work that way. If he did somehow manage to fall asleep, he’d most likely get stuck in the post-sex part of the dream, where they were already done and cuddling and sharing a cigarette.

  Okay, not the cigarette, obviously, because gross, but the point still stood.

  And, if he wanted to look at the bright side, at least finishing himself off while he was awake came with the added bonus that he’d get to write the ending the way he wanted it to be.

  Jeremy had already built up quite a mental library of ways to enjoy being naked with Nick, and as he wrapped his hand around his straining erection, he closed his eyes and let his brain flip through them.

  Did he want Nick to take him from behind?

  Yes, please.

  Or maybe Jeremy could go down on him first.

  Oh, God… yes.

  Although if the dream he’d just woken himself up from had been real, the truth was that he probably would’ve come the minute Nick took him in hand. Not that Jeremy generally went off that quickly, but seriously. He groaned, his own hand speeding up at the thought. More than “the thought.” It had seemed so real in the dream that, now, it almost felt like a memory.

  Especially because he already knew how good Nick’s more innocent touch felt.

  Jeremy loved that Nick’s hands were always on him. Today, it had felt like they were everywhere. The small of his back. His arm. Shoulder. The back of his neck. And, God, the way Nick had taken to holding Jeremy’s hand all the time—without any hesitation, no matter where they were—that was nice in ways that went way beyond just the feel of skin on skin.

  But still, if Nick were ever to do more—

  Jeremy’s hips arched off the bed, and his eyes popped open for a second as he almost came.

  Mistake.

  With his eyes open, there was no Nick. And, yes, that’s what he really wanted. It didn’t really matter how, he just wanted… Nick. He wanted the man on top of him. Those rock-hard thighs settled between his. Forget from behind—well, okay, that would be fun, too—but honestly, Jeremy would love to be able to see him. To watch him. To feel that connection between them�
��not just the physical one—that his overly romantic brain kept insisting was different than he’d ever felt with anyone else.

  And the idea of actually having Nick inside him, of Nick smiling down at him that way he did, of Nick… touching him. Kissing him…

  Nick’s lips had felt like magic on Jeremy’s wrist. He wanted to feel them move across his skin, against his throat, pressed to his while Nick’s ridiculously hot body moved above him. Wanted Nick’s mouth open against his, hot and wet, swallowing the panting breaths that Jeremy couldn’t have stopped now if he’d wanted to.

  Jeremy moaned, not wanting it to end, but knowing it was about to happen.

  But God, Nick.

  He wanted to run his hands over all those muscles, feel the heat of his body covering him, sheltering him, driving him toward a release that he already knew would rock his world. His raw lust for the man had only grown the longer Jeremy had known him. But it hadn’t just gotten bigger, it had also gotten deeper. Turned into something more. Jeremy’s stomach tightened as he stroked himself with an urgency bordering on desperation. The man made him want. More than just his body. More than the fictional type of love that Jeremy had spent the majority of his life longing for. Nick made him want something nonfictional. Team Us. A kind of togetherness that was so effortless that it was hard to believe it could be real.

  Jeremy wanted Nick to love him.

  And since Jeremy got to be the author of this particular happy ending—as his balls tightened and the base of his spine started to tingle and his entire world narrowed to the trembling, electrical urgency building to a crescendo inside him—he wrote it exactly the way he wanted it. Nick, thrusting into him. Holding him close. Looking into his eyes and making Jeremy feel like he was exactly what Nick wanted. Like no one else would do. Like Nick needed him.

  “I love you, J.”

  Jeremy’s whole body shuddered with the force of his release, but this time, he kept his eyes firmly closed. Let it roll through him, empty him out, melt him into the sheets with the warm, blissful afterglow that threatened to carry him away.

  And he let it, smiling as he drifted off to sleep, because Nick loved him.

  Well, okay. Not really. But it could happen.

  Maybe.

  If the stars aligned.

  If Jeremy kept his eyes closed.

  If he wanted it badly enough.

  There was always a chance.

  Right?

  7

  Nick

  Nick held a giggling Ava over his shoulder with one hand, caveman style, and knocked on Heather’s door. It took her a minute to answer, and when she did, she made a shushing motion with her hand, gesturing at the Bluetooth in her ear as explanation. Nick followed Heather in, swinging their daughter down onto the couch, then shrugging her backpack off his other shoulder and handing it to her with a wink. She scrambled to her feet, hugging him around the waist and whispering a quick “love you, Daddy,” before scampering off toward her bedroom.

  Nick shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels as he waited for Heather to get off her call. Every time he had Ava, Heather wanted an update on what they’d done. And even if her interrogation-style questioning could be a little hard to take, he couldn’t fault her interest in keeping up on Ava’s activities.

  His eyes roamed over the framed photos on the wall while he waited, and he smiled at some of the memories they brought up. Most of them were from their life back in Seattle, but there were some new ones, too. They’d made a few great memories here in Tulsa over the last couple of months, and it was nice to see that well over half of the pictures included him. He had to hand it to Heather for not trying to cut him out of Ava’s life just because the two of them hadn’t made it work. She may have had her control issues when it came to parenting—and had her priorities a little out of whack when it came to her career versus their daughter, in his opinion—but he knew that underneath it all, she truly did have Ava’s best interests at heart.

  Although other than that, he and Heather didn’t really have a whole lot in common.

  They’d met at the gym he used to work at, and she’d become one of his first personal training clients back in Seattle. At the time, he’d still been recovering from his knee surgery, not to mention reeling from the dual losses of his professional baseball hopes and the athletic scholarship he’d earned at the U of W. He’d be the first to admit that he’d jumped into bed with her for shallow reasons. It had never been intended as a relationship by either one of them, but when she’d finally told him she was pregnant, they’d tried to turn what had been purely physical into something more for Ava’s sake.

  That had been a fail.

  They’d played house for four long years, but when Heather finally bit the bullet and told him that she thought all three of them would be happier if they didn’t keep trying to make it work, it had been something of a relief. He still missed living with Ava full time, but life was definitely easier now that he didn’t share a roof with Heather. The woman was incredibly driven, and, despite her genuinely good heart, all that intensity had been a little much for him. He was, and always would be, willing to do whatever he had to in order to be a good father to Ava, but in retrospect, he could see that sticking it out in a relationship that just hadn’t fit didn’t fall in the “being a good father” category.

  It wasn’t the example he wanted to set for his daughter. And, selfishly, he was starting to see how it had also kept him from having the chance to find someone whom he did fit with.

  Nick knew he was generally an easy guy to get along with, but still, in the past, dating had always felt like a lot of work. An effort. And he was totally down with the idea of putting in effort in order to achieve some results in life, but the more time he spent with Jeremy, the more he was starting to see that it didn’t necessarily have to be that way. Effort, sure, but not… difficult, if that made any sense.

  It was like when he trained clients who thought they could make up for bad form simply by doing more reps, adding more weight. That kind of effort was just asking for trouble. It felt hard as shit and still gave shitty results. Sometimes, painful ones.

  Once they did learned to do it right, though, everything changed.

  “I can’t believe she just put me on hold,” Heather said.

  Nick had tuned out her phone conversation, and it took him a minute to realize she’d directed that last comment at him. Heather was passionate about what she did, and always assumed that her own agenda should be everyone’s number-one priority. He bit back a smile at the look on her face. He knew she wouldn’t appreciate it, but it was kinda funny to see her frustration when that wasn’t the case.

  Although maybe not so funny when her work kept getting prioritized over their kid, but that was a separate issue.

  “I may be a while, Nick,” Heather said. “Can I get you something to drin— Polly, I’m sorry, but no. That’s not going to work for my client. We really need to clear up the…”

  She switched back to her phone conversation mid-sentence, waving Nick in the general direction of her kitchen as she walked away.

  Nick had no doubt that she was right about her call taking a while, and he decided to take her up on the offer of a drink, more for something to do than because he needed anything. Still, always good to stay hydrated.

  The contents of Heather’s refrigerator were arranged with military precision, and he rolled his eyes as he snagged the water, a move he’d picked up from J. Nick was a tidy guy, but Heather’s obsessive need for order and control over every aspect of her life had definitely been a bit much to take on a daily basis. It was yet another reason he wanted more time with Ava, so that he could make sure his daughter had the chance to loosen up once in a while.

  He’d dated a little since calling it quits with Heather, but nothing serious. And that had been fine with him. He hadn’t been actively looking for anyone. Hadn’t wanted to look. It had seemed like more trouble than it was worth, if he were honest. Bei
ng with Heather had been stifling, but he was coming to see how that had maybe colored his whole idea of what was possible when it came to a long-term relationship.

  Bad form. Bad results. Didn’t mean hitting the gym didn’t work.

  Beck liked to tease him about his need for people, about how much happier he’d be if he just found himself a better half, but honestly, the idea hadn’t had that much appeal.

  Until now.

  For the first time, he was starting to think that Beck might be right about the benefits of having someone special in his life. Someone more than just the circle of friends he’d always surrounded himself with, that is. And not just because, as Beck had also said, it would be nice to get laid, although… yeah. That had definitely been on his mind lately, too.

  Even though he’d faked gay before, it was different with J. When he’d done it with Beck, playing the “boyfriend” role had always felt like an over-the-top performance, an elaborate prank that only he and Beck were in on. It had been funny, and ridiculous, and they’d both dropped the act without a second thought whenever the targeted audience—a.k.a. Beck’s ex—wasn’t around.

  With J, though, more often than not lately, Nick tended to forget he was supposed to be acting.

  Ever since their first rock-climbing date back in April, he hadn’t been able to stop looking at Jeremy with what he privately thought of as his Beck-vision goggles. The sexy little shiver that had rippled through Jeremy’s skin when Nick had touched him replayed in his mind far too often, and he’d started noticing things about J that he’d never paid attention to in another man before.

  When Jeremy wasn’t smiling, Nick wanted to know why.

  He wanted to fix it.

  But whenever J’s lips did curve up—which was often—they drew Nick’s eyes like a magnet. He found himself wondering what they would taste like. How the rough stubble lining J’s jaw would feel, rasping against his tongue. And lately, seeing J flush red with embarrassment inevitably brought to mind other ways Nick might bring some heat to his skin.