Beautiful Temptation (So This is Christmas Book 2)

by Christina Lee

  “Don’t worry. I can hold my own against the diva. Besides, he has enough habits to drive me insane as well.” Though honestly, that hadn’t been true thus far, which surprised me most of all. Fuck, I had confessed one of my deepest secrets to him. Hoped I didn’t just jinx myself. “I’m amazed we’ve lasted a couple of days already.”

  “How’s he doing?” Christopher asked in a hushed tone, as if unsure what to think about Blair wanting to barricade himself away as well. No wonder my brother sounded so concerned.

  “I think okay, but tired. Seems like he could use the beach right now too.”

  “Okay, well, I’ll bother him later. Tell him hello for me.”

  “Will do.” Just as I hit End Call, Blair padded down the steps, yawning and all sleep-rumpled. He was wearing some expensive T-shirt with the name of a designer I didn’t recognize scrawled across the chest, and I’d bet his jeans were just as pricey. His clothes had usually fit very well, which was most likely why he’d been able to make a career out of modeling for so long.

  The bags under his eyes were more prominent, however, and he almost looked more worse for wear than when he first lay down. So maybe what he needed was some sustenance. Except knowing what I did now about his issues with eating, I needed to tread carefully.

  “You okay?” I asked, and he nodded. “’Cuz you still look like hell.”

  “Gee, thanks. Maybe I slept too long.”

  “Yeah, I can’t take naps.” Never could. It only made me feel like shit.

  “Of course you can’t,” he quipped. “You probably pumped iron while I was upstairs.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Only benched five hundred pounds, you ass.”

  He walked to the fridge to grab a soda, no doubt for caffeine.

  “That was Christopher, by the way.” I motioned to my cell. “He says hello and called me a knucklehead for showing up here like this.”

  Blair cracked a smile. “Remember, I can leave at any time. Just tell me to hit the road.”

  He sobered a little, as if the idea didn’t quite appeal to him, and I didn’t know why that brought me relief; maybe because I wouldn’t want to search for a hotel room or a flight home so close to the holidays either.

  “No, I’m cool if you are.”

  He nodded, and the air around us suddenly felt thick and cloaking. What in the hell were we doing? Might as well just roll with it.

  “Well, in that case,” I said, standing up, “want to make some dinner?”

  He cringed. “Yeah…I’m not used to cooking. I usually eat out or get delivery.”

  That didn’t surprise me in the least.

  “No worries, I love cooking. And I have the ingredients to prove it.”

  My dad was the same, constantly grilling or experimenting with some sauce, and that really helped when we were all so busy and on different schedules. I could usually find some leftovers in the refrigerator, and it became my tradition to help Dad make Thanksgiving dinner. Except this year, Christopher had spent the holiday with Tabitha’s family. The rest of us had been invited to Dad’s cousin’s new house for a housewarming-slash-holiday thing, along with five million distant relatives I so did not want to interact with. It was one of the reasons I decided to hide out this holiday—so I didn’t have to put on a good face for anyone, even my own family.

  “That was always my problem—ingredients that wouldn’t just magically turn into dinner. I bet Lauren appreciated your skills in the kitchen,” he said in a wistful voice, and I didn’t know if his tone was more about the food or the relationship. Odd.

  “Yeah, sure, what partner wouldn’t?” I replied unsteadily.

  Lauren appreciated when I made us dinner, though she liked it best when we prepared it together because she also enjoyed cooking. Last year, during one of our increasingly frequent fights, she’d confessed she had an issue with me being in the kitchen so much. Mostly because she’d been raised to believe it was the woman’s place. That had thrown me for a loop, but apparently, I’d been ignoring her more conservative views. I didn’t think she’d take the idea of me being bisexual very well either.

  Suddenly I was struck by nostalgia—and guilt. I hoped she was having a decent holiday. But I was relieved we didn’t have to stumble our way through another one, because things had been unraveling between us for the past couple of years. Walking away was one of the hardest decisions I had to make. But also one of the best.

  “True,” Blair replied, bringing me out of my thoughts. He folded his arms like some diva. “So serve me.”

  “You ass.” I snickered as I walked to the fridge. “How about I grill some chicken breasts with salad?”

  “Sounds good.”

  I thought of what he said about food textures, but he didn’t seem to object to what I was proposing.

  He added, “I can help make the salad. I just can’t see the meat in its raw form.”

  Ah, there it was. “Noted.”

  Turned out we worked seamlessly in the kitchen. Blair chopped veggies for the salad while I marinated the chicken, then grilled it out on the veranda.

  I reached for a beer, but Blair had opened a bottle of wine he must’ve bought on his short grocery trip. We ate outside to the sound of rolling waves. It was—dare I admit it—pleasant. Refreshing. Comfortable.

  Mostly because there wasn’t any pressure. The company was pretty decent too. We spoke casually about our careers, and Blair’s stories were animated as usual, but he acted interested in my job as well, which surprised me because sports. He also wanted to know about the city, so I told him how I thought Cleveland offered the best of both worlds but on a smaller scale and how I lived in a sweet condo near the lake.

  Truth be told, I had a decent life. It was no jet-setting lifestyle like Blair had, but that was not my thing anyway. Though I’d never pass up a vacation to the beach.

  So much had changed since my breakup with Lauren, yet I felt hopeful that I’d work out the shit plaguing me, and being out here was a good start. I’d already made headway, in fact. And Blair was helping me feel a bit more comfortable in my own skin just by being himself. Go figure.

  Dusk was setting in by the time I stood up with our empty plates. “How about we catch the sunset?”

  Blair looked out at the waves and sighed, seeming as contented as I felt. “Sounds perfect.”

  7

  Blair

  I retrieved a new bottle of wine and two glasses while Caden reached for a blanket. It’d been a chillier day, so we both wore long-sleeve shirts and jeans. I followed him onto the sand, and as the shore came into view, all I could think was, This is the life. A strange thing to think about—something so simple—because I had done tons of really cool shit. Had seen all the sights and even some wonders of the world, yet this was still a thing for me. Refreshing and peaceful and good company. Wait, what? I thought Caden was good company?

  There was a time when I used to think that, actually. Like when we’d played in the backyard for hours or against each other in Mortal Kombat and laughed our heads off. But then adolescence hit, and suddenly we became different people to each other. He became known as Christopher’s dumb-jock brother. He wasn’t dumb at all, and it was a shitty thing to think of jocks in general, but I’d felt better assigning that adjective because of what he’d come to represent. And I realized in that moment that I’d felt a bit butt-hurt by how Caden had treated me. It was never overt. More like a reluctance on his part to even acknowledge me in the halls, so I’d decided not to give him the time of day either.

  We sat side by side on the blanket, gulping red wine and watching the sky being painted in a wash of watercolors. We made sure to stick closer to the house so we wouldn’t get soaked by the tide rolling in. Eventually the sun disappeared altogether, the sky growing dark, the stunning full moon shining even brighter. Neither of us moved, seeming content to simply sip and dig our toes in the sand.

  The wind whipped up a bit, and since I wasn’t a fan of gritty eyes, I almost got up a
nd hightailed it back to the house. But something made me stay put, as if the combination of wine and waves was bewitching me.

  “Tell me more about modeling?”

  I sighed, thinking about the entirety of my career. I started on a smaller scale when I was around sixteen, and as soon as I graduated high school and signed with a major agency, I was jetted off to see the world for the next few years of my life, checking in with family and friends by sheer will of technology or proximity or just needing a weekend off. But this felt different. It was the first time I’d voluntarily chosen to get off the merry-go-round, and I was honestly unsure if I could get back on. “It’s been a great ride and provided me an awesome nest egg, but it gets old.”

  His eyebrows rose to his hairline.

  “I know. You can’t believe I’m saying this. Me neither. Blair Anderson, life of the party, darling of the runway.”

  He snorted, and I grinned because it did sound ridiculous.

  “So what are you gonna do? Just chill until you decide your next career move?”

  “I have contracts to see through, but after that, I can actually slow down and work some stuff out.” I couldn’t believe I was saying it out loud for the first time to a person who was not my therapist. Holy shit. The ocean undeniably had some voodoo powers—or Caden did. But hey, quid pro quo and all that after his revelation about his sexuality. “There are other ways to make money. I can make some bank as an influencer on social media, with products and stuff.” Companies would come out of the woodwork, jumping at the chance for only a simple mention to my followers of their merchandise, be it a hotel room, a grooming product, or a pair of shoes.

  “I’ve, um, seen some of your photos and videos,” Caden admitted, and I could just make out his blush in the moonlight. Color me shocked—again. I didn’t know he even gave a flipping fuck about what I was up to. But I’d looked him up too over the years, out of nothing more than sheer curiosity.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’ve pretty much followed your career.”

  “Cool,” I replied, and instead of saying something stupid or funny, I just let it rest in the air between us. The hair on my nape lifted as I felt again that heightened awareness. Maybe we’d been on the periphery of each other’s lives all along, waiting for this chance to reconnect.

  Okay, corny. But I had stuff I wanted to bring up too, so maybe this was my opportunity.

  After another silent beat, I got up the courage. “So, was it hard to leave her?”

  “Really tough,” he said in a somber tone. “But also fucking liberating.”

  “I could see that,” I remarked, imagining finally being honest with yourself, sort of like I was doing right this minute about my career. I had admitted more things in the past couple of days with Caden than even to my own parents. Maybe it was the salty sea air.

  “Did you have any clues?” I asked as I drew circles in the sand with my finger and sipped more wine. I wasn’t feeling tipsy, more like settled and calm, and that hadn’t happened in a long while.

  “What do you mean?” He reached for the bottle and topped us off. “Like, as a kid or something?”

  “Well, yeah.” I chuckled. “I knew practically from birth. I probably struck a pose right out of the womb.”

  When his amused eyes turned on me, I felt a quickening in my chest. I was really enjoying myself and suddenly felt so glad I had decided to stay put. I mean, unless he planned on saying something really stupid to ruin it all—or I did. That could make all this come to a screeching halt. Which wouldn’t surprise me in the least.

  “Funny you should ask…” he said, his cheeks coloring again. “I remember this thing that happened with a kid from school. We, uh, played doctor. He placed the stethoscope all over, examining me, and I remember thinking I wanted him to aim it…fuck, this is uncomfortable, never mind.”

  “Why is it uncomfortable? You were only a kid, and a lot of us were exploring stuff back then.”

  He sighed and readjusted his legs. “I wish I were as confident as you are…”

  “Um, hello, Mr. Sports Broadcaster.”

  “No, I mean about my body and my sex life. I’ve always felt a bit…off, I guess. Scared to ask for what I want, and hell, I don’t know.”

  Silence grew between us again as we looked out at the water.

  “So apart from this doctor situation, anything else?” I didn’t know why I was so interested, but maybe it was because I couldn’t reconcile the Caden I knew with the one sitting beside me now.

  “Well, Lauren and I have been on again, off again a few times.”

  I angled my head to look him in the eye. “I had no idea.”

  “Not a lot of people did. I think we were more comfortable as friends than anything else.”

  I smoothed my finger over a shiny stone in the sand. “Makes sense.”

  “And every time we were off, I thought maybe I should date other women. I even sort of tried.” He pushed his fingers through his hair, and I remembered how he did that a lot as a kid when he was nervous. “I made out with a woman at a club, but want to know what I did most of all when we were on a break?”

  He sloshed his wine on the sand, which told me he probably wouldn’t be confessing this if we hadn’t polished off the whole bottle. But fuck, now I was riveted.

  “What?” I asked in a soft tone so as not to startle him out of his reverie.

  “Looked at gay porn,” he scoffed, like he was almost angry about it. “Got off to gay porn.”

  I shouldn’t have gasped, but I did, and it made him stare at me in horror. And fuck, imagining him jacking off to dudes was messing with my brain, so I decided to lighten the mood. “I mean, who hasn’t? It’s fucking hot as hell.”

  He snorted.

  “So that’s all you’ve done—stocked up on porn subscriptions? You’ve never…”

  “I have, actually,” he admitted, and fuck if my dick didn’t suddenly perk up. “I let someone jerk me off and returned the favor.”

  My neck felt on fire. Don’t look at him. Do not look at him.

  “Well, that’s a start.” My fingers dug into the sand. “Did it feel good?”

  “God, yeah. I didn’t realize… Never mind.”

  I threw some sand at his feet. “Oh, you’re gonna leave me hanging?”

  “It gave me a whole new perspective and made me want to explore even more shit about myself.”

  Fuck, I wanted to ask what that meant, but I had no right. I downed the rest of my glass and could feel myself getting more tired and tipsy as my words tumbled out in a slur. “Well, if you have any questions, I’ve done it all.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard,” he sneered. “Not like you keep stuff a secret.”

  “There’s no shame in doing shit that turns you on.” I sank back on the blanket and stared up at the sky, my empty wineglass resting beside me in the sand.

  “Yeah, I’ve always liked that about you.”

  I shut my eyes and let the compliment settle in the very center of my chest and warm me to my core.

  8

  Caden

  When Blair fell asleep beside me on the sand, I found myself focusing on his pink, puffy lips, imagining what it might be like to kiss a man. The jerking off stuff I told him about was a blur, in the bathroom of a gay bar, and there was no intimacy involved. It was a first step of trying to listen to the needs of my body and not feeling guilty about it.

  As I studied his face, his lips parted and the lines in his forehead smoothed out; and I pondered if he was having a peaceful dream. He sighed and rolled closer, his head half on my shoulder. I held my breath for a moment, and considered pushing him off. But I was a bit tanked myself, and feeling his soft breaths against my skin was soothing, which didn’t make a lot of sense.

  Eventually I shut my eyes and fell asleep, only to be startled awake by the sound of a whistle somewhere down the beach—maybe someone calling their dog—and I had to nudge him awake.

  “We should get to bed.” My voic
e sounded rough as I attempted to shake away the stiffness in my limbs. “Assumed you’d hold your liquor better.”

  “Thought I could too,” he muttered, rolling his head and blinking rapidly, trying to get his eyes unglued.

  “Figured you were some kind of party animal,” I said, sitting up. “Turns out, you might be more of a lightweight than me.”

  “Shut it,” he grumbled as I helped him up, then followed behind as I carried our empty glasses to the sink. “Full disclosure, weed usually helps, but it feels different out here. I’ve been sleeping all the way through the night.”

  Damn, that was an important confession, I was sure of it, but it barely registered in my foggy brain.

  “Then, you must need it,” I said around a yawn as we dragged ourselves upstairs to bed.

  The weather was chillier today, so after my run, which had turned into a stroll due to a killer headache from drinking red wine the previous night on the beach, I’d stayed bundled up, checking emails and messaging with friends. Blair hadn’t come out of his room all morning, so I imagined him sleeping the day away, though any longer and I was going to check on him. A spike of fear had stabbed inside me, but he finally emerged midafternoon, looking sleep-rumpled yet still somehow runway ready because that was just him.

  At first it felt a bit awkward between us because, holy shit, what had I done, confessing all that to Blair? But somehow it was cool too because he didn’t judge me.

  “I’m gonna head out to get some grub,” I said. “Want to tag along, or should I bring you back something?”

  “The Salty Dog?” He guessed my destination because we’d always gone there as a family. “I wouldn’t mind getting out of here for a bit.”

  I waited for him to shower and change—surprisingly more quickly and less high maintenance than I imagined—and then we were out the door. Seeing all the Christmas lights wound around palm trees and yards and store shutters was almost a shock to my system. It was so easy to forget it was a holiday week when you cocooned yourself indoors.