Gavin slowed. With each gentle suck, a fresh shudder of pleasure coursed through Aaron, until his cock slid free, cool air hitting it.
He sank to the floor as his legs refused to support him any longer. With a shaky laugh, he kissed Gavin. He dove into the moment, tasting himself on Gavin’s lips. They sat there for a moment, until Aaron caught his breath. Then he teased Gavin’s erection through his slacks. “What do you want?”
Gavin shook his head, slid to sit next to Aaron, and pulled him into his arms. “Just this,” he said. “This is all about you, and right now, you’re the only thing I want.”
Aaron didn’t have an argument for that.
Chapter Twenty-Six
CYNTHIA SIFTED RESUMES into folders in her email—absolutely not, looking good, and meh. If there was one task she hadn’t accounted for, time-wise, this was it. It would be easier once she’d filled most of her open positions, but for now, it ate into her schedule. She foresaw another long night in the office.
Fine with her. Staying here to work kept her on task. Earlier in the week, she’d eliminated the excuse of house calls to Aaron, telling him over email that due to time constraints, she’d only be able to see him at her office, with an appointment, during business hours.
It hurt to send the email. It ached almost as much to see his terse reply—I understand—but she’d brought any wounded feelings on herself.
She turned her attention to the next applicant, and relief whispered through her when she saw the pending folder was empty. Now there was a new issue. She had potential candidates for all of her open positions, except development—the one place she was pickiest about, and the one she needed the most help with. Emily did a lot of the work when they were building the application; Cynthia wouldn’t be able to run the company and maintain so much code.
Her desk phone rang, and Reception flashed on the screen. She hit the Speaker button. “Yes?”
“Your two o’clock is here,” the pleasant female voice said.
Aaron. “Thanks. Send him back.” Cynthia tried to swallow the surge of anxiety that pulsed through her. She hadn’t seen him since the night they went out with Nathan, and had managed to avoid any conversation with him beyond business. The in-person meeting would require a balance of politeness and professionalism she didn’t know if she could manage.
“Afternoon.” His greeting drew her attention. He looked better than he had in weeks. No more shadows under his eyes. A smile tugged up his mouth. And he still looked as drop-dead irresistible in a suit as the night they met.
“Hey.” She pasted on a smile and stood to shake his hand. A pulse of familiarity raced through her at his firm grip, and she swallowed. “Have a seat.”
When he took the chair across from her, memories tumbled loose, of he and Gavin sitting there, answering questions and making her squirm in the best way possible. Was it hot in here? She needed to check the thermostat when she was done with the meeting. “Thanks for coming down. It’s easier for me than breaking away, with travel time and all.”
“No problem.”
She didn’t like the stilted conversation, but it would get easier. “How are you doing?” It would be rude not to ask. And if he gave her a generic fine, it would silence the part of her that would rather sit and chat and make sure he was all right, than focus on business.
“Good. Really good.” His smile grew.
She couldn’t help herself. She wanted to know. Don’t pretend it’s anything other than polite, and you’ll be fine. “Oh?”
“I talked to Gavin—saw him—a few days ago. We’re fixing things.”
Cynthia almost choked on the bittersweet combination of joy for them and something darker on her part. “That’s fantastic.” She meant it. “I told you the two of you were fated.”
“You held a stronger hope than I did.”
“That’s bullshit. You knew. You weren’t ready to give up. I’m glad the two of you pulled your heads out of your asses.” She teased. No. Wrong direction to go in. “So should we get down to business?”
“Cyn, we don’t have to dial things back this far. We’re still friends.”
The words gouged at her heart. “It’s Cynthia, and we do need to draw this line. We can’t keep it blurry or vague or as just a suggestion. If we do that, in the long run someone gets hurt, and the business falls apart, and if we establish boundaries, that won’t be an issue.”
“You got it.” The friendliness faded from his eyes, replaced with a sadness she wished she could ignore.
Her stance felt harsh, but after the last time she saw Gavin, she needed to do away with any assumptions. Otherwise it would hurt too much when it was over. Being part of Aaron and Gavin’s world was fun while it lasted, but Cynthia wasn’t a permanent fixture in their romance, and this was the best way to keep that in mind.
IT WAS GOOD TO BE HOME. Gavin didn’t mind the accommodations at the clinic, but after four weeks, he was happy to be out. He stepped into the condo and stalled in the doorway, letting familiarity wash over him.
Aaron tossed Gavin’s bags aside—he’d managed to come home with a lot, for someone who went away with only the clothes on his back—and kissed him on the back of the neck before stepping around him.
The sound of the door closing filled the room. Aaron grabbed Gavin’s hand and tugged him to the couch. He sat and prompted him to do the same. “Put your things away later. I want to enjoy this for a bit,” Aaron said. He leaned his back against Gavin’s chest.
“I’m great with that.” Gavin draped his arms over Aaron’s shoulders. A comfortable silence settled between them. The last couple of weeks had helped Gavin dig into his head more than he ever would have admitted was necessary. Some days it was okay, and others it hurt worse than any physical wound. He went through therapy almost every day, though, only taking weekends off. Aaron’s visits were a lot of the same.
Sitting here, not saying anything, was its own kind of soothing.
Gavin had only seen Cynthia the once, while he was there. Her name bounded into his skull without permission and jarred his calm. She called him back a few days after he spoke with Aaron for the first time. Gavin tried to apologize, and she insisted he didn’t need to. She said they needed clearer boundaries, and she was setting those. Told him they had a lot of fun, but Aaron was her investor, Gavin was Aaron’s partner, and anything else was behind them.
The memory gnawed at his senses, chipping away at the joy of being back where he belonged. He shouldered it aside and shifted to rest his cheek against Aaron’s.
“What do you want to be when you grow up?” Gavin asked, keeping the teasing in his voice. He was tired of talking and thinking about himself.
Aaron gave a light laugh. “Not a clue. Independently wealthy? The way we invested, we’re set for a long time, as long as we’re not careless.”
“Sounds boring.”
“It is. A month unemployed, and I don’t know what to do with myself.”
Gavin dug through surface thoughts. “Day trading? Or you could get a weekend job in Tahoe, dealing cards. Counting cards.”
“I’m done with the shell games, large scale or small,” Aaron said. “And I’ll drive you nuts if I’m around the house all the time, not working.”
“I won’t notice while I’m working. But it won’t bother me either way.”
Aaron glanced back, brows raised. “What are you going to do?”
This answer was simple—the one thing he enjoyed on an almost Zen level. “Get back into development. High end. Complicated.”
“Just like that?”
“Not just. It’s been a few years; I need to touch up my skills. But I miss it. Oh.” Inspiration struck. “I know what you should do.”
“Professional yacht racing?”
Gavin stared at the back of Aaron’s head, puzzled. “First of all, where the fuck did that come from? Second, you hate sailing.”
Aaron shifted on the couch to look at him. “This would be racing. Entirely dif
ferent from sailing. Besides, when I did the whole venture-capitalist thing, I thought it would be the best job ever, to help people realize their dreams, and look at how that turned out. I figured I’d pick something ludicrous, to balance things out.”
“Which is perfect. The something-ludicrous idea, not the yachting. God, that sounds miserable. If you’re going to shoot for something completely off the wall... write our story and sell it to Hollywood.” Gavin wasn’t sure where the idea came from, but as it bounded into his head, it was obvious and perfect.
“So first”—Aaron mimicked Gavin’s tone—“you know it doesn’t work that way. And second, where the fuck did that come from?”
The back and forth and the joking were as perfect as everything else about the day. “You miss the con, right? The game. The thrill. The challenge.”
“But not the cheating people out of their money.”
“No, not that.” Gavin shook his head. “But weaving a compelling story. Getting the details right. Sucking someone in and making them believe.”
Aaron shrugged, but he was smiling. “Yeah. I do like that bit.”
“So—and don’t shut me down until you’ve heard me out—I talked to an agent who’s dying to put me in front of someone who would make our movie.”
“Your movie,” Aaron said.
“No, because it’s not my story, it’s ours. I’m not interested in working with her. Fuck playing myself or how popular I was for another fifteen minutes, a month ago. That life made me miserable. But you thrive on it—being the center of attention while you build the perfect tale. And I can put you in touch with this woman.”
The joy on Aaron’s face slipped. “Which has me riding your coattails, which is part of what got us here last time—me stepping into shoes that were yours to fill.”
“This isn’t the same.” Gavin fumbled for the right words. “You’d still be the one to write it. Pitch it. Sell it. All I would do is get you that meeting. You try it, and if you get in and like it, you keep doing it. If it’s not all of the above, you walk away and try something else.”
“You make it sound easy.”
“It’s not. Hard work and all that.”
“I have to think about it. But I’m leaning toward yes.” Aaron’s smile was back. “Who do you want to play you?”
Gavin hadn’t thought that far. “Uh... Andrew Garfield?”
Aaron wrinkled his nose.
“What?” Gavin asked through his laugh.
“Nothing, but... I was thinking George Clooney.”
“He’s almost twenty-five years older than me. And the story Hollywood wants took place nearly a decade ago.”
Aaron shrugged. “He’s sexy.”
Gavin couldn’t argue that. “When you decide you’re ready, tell me.”
“Fuck it. The worst that can happen is someone tells me no somewhere along the way. Hook me up.”
“I’ll put the call in, first thing in the morning. Do you think they can get Emma Watson to play Cynthia?” God damn it, why did he say that? So much for distracting himself. “I don’t know where that came from. Never mind.”
“I think we’ll be lucky to see the cast list before filming starts. There’s little to no chance we’ll have a say in who’s on it. Besides, she’s not part of that story.” Aaron sighed. “Or this one.”
Which was Gavin’s cue to drop the subject. “What if she were?” Why couldn’t he keep his mouth shut?
“We said no more open relationship. And she’s made her feelings pretty clear on the subject.” A shadow of hurt reflected in Aaron’s eyes.
Right. She didn’t like being a third wheel or a fuckdoll. Gavin didn’t blame her for that. “Yeah. I shouldn’t have said it. Habit.” Or something. The problem was, now he’d given the thought a voice, it wouldn’t shut up. He didn’t see her as a one-night stand or a fling. He needed Aaron in his life. He didn’t question that, and he’d drop the subject, based on his partner’s reaction. But Cynthia was more. Gavin didn’t want to relegate their relationship to the occasional passing smile and nothing else. Friendship would be fantastic. More would be better, but only if everyone agreed.
And how dim was he, for bringing that up so soon after getting things back on track with Aaron.
“I get it,” Aaron said. “I miss her too, and I see her on a regular basis. I wouldn’t mind—fuck it, I’d be happy—if she were a full-time, romantic, equal part of our lives.”
Gavin couldn’t have put it better. “How selfish of me is it to want to ask her?”
Aaron chuckled.
Gavin looked at him, puzzled. “Not the response I expected. Use your words.”
“The laugh is relief that you feel the same way I do. Once again, though, she’s made her position pretty clear.”
“She doesn’t know there’s an alternative.”
Aaron twisted his mouth in thought. “She might still say no.”
“I’m prepared for that.” Gavin wasn’t, really, but he’d accept it. “What are we thinking about?”
“Asking if she wants to be a part of our lives. A lover, not just a business partner or friend.”
Gavin liked the sound of that. “Then you’re inviting her over for dinner? Something intimate and quiet, the three of us, to propose?”
“Not the word I would use.” Aaron raised his brows. “But appropriate.”
As long as it works in practice. Gavin tried to brace himself for things to not go according to his hopes, but he couldn’t talk himself out of it. Excitement simmered inside, along with a prayer that Cynthia wouldn’t turn them down.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
CYNTHIA FELT LIKE IT had been weeks since her head was screwed on straight. Two days ago, when Aaron called and invited her over for dinner, it made perfect sense to tell him no thank you.
Well, her brain said it made sense. Her heart twisted in on itself, to prevent her from turning him down. The internal struggle was real and frustrating. She was keeping her distance because they’d hurt her. Aaron with the way he acted around Nathan, and Gavin with the assumptions he made about their physical relationship.
But if she was just a business partner, she should be treating things the way she insisted to Aaron she was. She shouldn’t care.
She stopped in front of their condo and steeled herself before knocking. It took a while, but Cynthia figured out what nagged her about the call with Emily. Forgiveness. Emily gave her a second chance, and what Cynthia held against the guys wasn’t even as bad as what she’d done. Holding a grudge would lead to loneliness, knowing she’d walked away from something without trying. She couldn’t define it, but it was bigger than she wanted to admit, and it went beyond existing on the fringes of life and watching while other people lived.
The door snicked open, and Gavin stood in front of her, wearing a grin that dove past her doubt and buoyed giddiness and hope. “Wonderful surprise,” he said.
“Thanks.” Her brain ground to a halt. She was supposed to say more. What was it, and why did his cheerful greeting flutter behind her ribs?
He stepped aside. “Come on in.”
“Did I forget to send you something?” Aaron asked from his spot on the couch. His smile was more guarded, but she liked seeing it as much as Gavin’s.
Right. That was what she was here for. She turned to Gavin. “Actually, I was hoping to talk to you. About business.” She’d failed to find a developer, and every time she tried to figure out where to look next, his name popped into her head. She didn’t even know if he was still doing work like that. If he was, and he gave her a chance, it wasn’t as though she was settling. From what she’d seen, based on the product he created and sold, that made them billionaires, he could have coded circles around her at one point.
“Sure. Do you want to use the office?” Gavin nodded down the hall.
“Here is fine.” Technically, a phone call would have been fine, but she missed them both. The job offer was sincere, but also an excuse to visit. “I need a develop
er, and I was wondering if you’d consid—”
“Yes.”
A giggle slipped out before she could stop it, at his enthusiastic response. “You haven’t heard my pitch yet.”
“To work for you?” Gavin asked. “On the app? Because I’ve got an in with a guy who tells me that position is still open, and at the risk of looking desperate, I’d love to slide my fingers into your code and tickle things a little.”
With anyone else, she’d question if the innuendo was intentional. The sparkle in Gavin’s eye, plus experience, told her of course it was. “Then, um... yay. I’ll send over a contract for you to look at, and you can make sure you’re okay with the terms.”
“Wait. That’s it? Conversation over?” Aaron asked.
She shrugged. “I thought it would take more convincing. My pitch has been preempted.”
Aaron joined them. “There’s still a dinner invitation outstanding if you don’t have any plans.” When he wrapped an arm around Gavin’s waist, the fluttering inside Cynthia scurried away.
She swallowed the reaction. Apparently it was going to take some time to get past whatever that was. Jealousy? Maybe. But not because they had each other. She liked seeing them together and happy. If there was any envy, it was her wanting what they had and she didn’t. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. It sets a precedent I don’t want.”
“Eating does?” Teasing lined Gavin’s question.
And for some reason, that made the ache inside grow. “Don’t. Please?”
He furrowed his brow. “Don’t... what?”
“Don’t do that thing where you talk in circles and go off on tangents and suck me in, and turn my words back on me until we’re so far off the subject, it might as well be in a different universe.”
“That’s not—”
“It is.” And, God help her, she wanted to fall into it.
Aaron gestured to the couch. “Forget dinner, then. He heard you out. Stay long enough to do the same for us?”
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