The Veranda (Lavender Shores Book 3)

by Rosalind Abel

  “I’m not going to last long, Spencer. But even when I come, don’t stop.”

  Even the condom wasn’t slowing down my own climax. “I’m not going to last either.”

  “Good.”

  I felt the orgasm build, but it wasn’t good. Not good at all. A picture of what I’d envisioned for my first time with Donovan flitted through my mind. And this wasn’t it, as good as it was, as hot as it was, this wasn’t it. I pulled out quickly and stood.

  Donovan cried out, this time sounding a little bit more like pain. He looked around again. “What’s wrong?”

  I felt stupid suddenly. I should’ve kept going. I was being a sentimental idiot. I shook my head.

  “What’s wrong?” This time he sounded worried, and he pushed himself up, then stood. “Are you okay? You want to stop?”

  I shook my head. “I’m sorry, I’m being stupid.”

  His expression darkened, and he narrowed his eyes. “You’re feeling guilty? I should’ve—”

  “What?” I shook my head more vehemently, realizing his meaning. “No, not at all. I just…. It probably sounds stupid….” There was no need to start lying now. “This isn’t what I pictured for our first time. Not the… ah… position.”

  Donovan shoulders sagged in relief and a smile played on his lips. “Oh? What did you picture?”

  Again I had to remind myself that I didn’t need to lie, not to him. “Something a little less like a porn, I suppose.”

  His smile bloomed fully at that. He stepped closer and placed his hand behind my neck. “Me too, actually.” He kissed me, pressing his body into mine, our erections smashing into each other. His kiss was sweet and gentle. His tongue traced my lips, and I opened to him, allowing him inside. Then he pulled back. He looked nervous and something else I couldn’t name. His voice was quiet and trembled slightly. “I know I shouldn’t say this, I don’t want to scare you, and I’m sure it’s too soon. But on the other hand, it feels like I’ve wanted to say it for so long that I can’t hold back anymore.” He swallowed, glanced away, then looked back into my eyes. “I love you. I know there’s still lots of things to learn about each other and I have no idea how this will go, but I know that I love you. I have loved you even though I’ve tried so hard not to.”

  Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew his words should terrify me. That they should send me running and screaming from the room. Instead, they covered every fear, every worry, and every insecurity. This was how I envisioned our first time. Because as arousing as Donovan was, that had always only been part of the picture. The secret I held deeper than any other was not only that I wanted his body, but that I loved him with my entire soul. I slid a hand into his, and even I marveled at the clarity and surety in my words. “I love you too, Donovan. And you’re right, I have no idea how this plays out. But I know that I’m going to do whatever I have to do to finally have you. Really have you.”

  He let out a long breath, and his lips moved silently, and he leaned back in and kissed me once more.

  Then, there were no more thoughts of porn or positions needed. I pushed against him again, turning him slightly so he hit the edge of his bed with the back of his knees, and we sank onto the mattress. As our kiss continued, his legs encircled my back, and as if it had done so a million times, my hand lowered and guided my cock to his ass once more, and I pushed inside.

  Donovan sucked in a breath, breathing me in through his kiss as surely as he took me inside of his body. And then we moved, within a couple thrusts, we were in sync. His body arching as I partially withdrew, then thrusting down as I pushed back in. One of his hands gripped the muscles of my shoulder as his other snaked between us and encircled his dick. Never breaking the kiss or the rhythm, I shifted up just enough to give him room.

  Those few minutes felt like hours, like an eternity. We’d waited for so long. I had waited for so long, never really believing I could have any of this, that I could have him. But there we were. Our lips together, his skin against mine. My body claiming his, or maybe the other way around. For those hours, minutes, or heartbeats, our entire existence swirled around that instant. My past, and my future, leading up to, and altering, from this moment on.

  He cried out into my mouth as his orgasm jetted between us, and he tightened exquisitely around my dick. It was all I could take, and I came—came so strong that I wouldn’t have been surprised if it had ripped through the condom. I thrust a couple more times and then pressed into him and held still, locking us together. I pulled back from the kiss simply because I needed to breathe. Donovan looked up at me, panting. I could see the question in his eyes, and I recognized it because I was feeling it myself. But his worry resolved any answer I needed. I smiled down at him. “That was even better than I dreamed. I can’t wait to do it again.” I supported my weight on one elbow and cupped his face. “And I love you.” Then I kissed him again.

  Eleven

  Donovan

  It had been Spencer’s suggestion to go out to dinner instead of ordering in food. Ridiculously, it sounded fun to me as well. Kind of like our first date or something. And though I knew neither of us would admit it, we both needed to move, to get out of the house. As amazing as the sex had been, the last hour had seen our worlds shift on their axis. We’d slept together and confessed our love for each other. That was no small thing. Especially considering all the fears that had played on repeat the night before.

  As we lay there after sex, the weight of that seemed to settle over us. As soon as Spencer brought up grabbing dinner at Charlie’s Tavern, I jumped at the chance. We rinsed off, threw on our clothes, and left the house.

  The thing I hadn’t considered was that we wouldn’t be able to touch each other in public. We were seated at a small square table, and I had nearly sat down beside him, then realized how intimate that would look. Instead, we sat across from each other, like I would in any other business meeting, with a client or with a friend.

  If I was reading Spencer correctly, he was having similar emotions, the battle of doing what we knew we should or throwing caution to the wind and not worrying about what anyone else would say. However, we knew there would be consequences if we acted rashly. We didn’t need to talk about it.

  But as we sat there eating Mexican food, I would’ve given anything to be back home on the couch with pizza delivery or even microwave meals. Just so his hand could be in mine. Things were a bit forced, a little awkward between us, which made sense, considering all that had happened. I knew I felt uncomfortably exposed; I assumed he did too.

  I decided to call a spade a spade. “I’m kind of struggling to know what to say.”

  “Me too.” He glanced around the half-filled restaurant. “I sorta feel like everyone is listening, but I know they aren’t.”

  “Well, it is Lavender Shores. They might be.” I forced a laugh like it was a joke, but we both knew it wasn’t. I tried again. “I’m tempted to stand up and just make an announcement.” The attempt at humor fell flat. He didn’t laugh. Neither did I. He’d told me he loved me after we had sex. But the rush of hormones had faded by this point, and we were back in the real world. Out of the blue, my insecurity began to rage. Maybe now that it was over, he was having a change of heart. I hadn’t lived up to the fantasy. I hoped my fears were baseless, and I knew it sounded needy to ask, but I was also certain if I didn’t put it out there it would eat at me. “Are you still feeling okay about everything?”

  He nodded, but his brows furrowed. “Aren’t you?”

  I nodded as well, but he hadn’t really said what I needed to hear. “Yes, do you still…?”

  He smiled softly, and though he didn’t look around the restaurant again, he kept his voice at a whisper. “Are you asking if I still love you, Dr. Carlisle?”

  I’d thought I was asking if he was okay with everything, but I realized my fear was a bit more primal than that. I nodded.

  “I do. And despite me being absolutely fucking terrified, I think I’m happier than I’ve ever bee
n in my life.”

  “Really?” Those words grasped my soul and took me flying. “So am I.”

  “Good.” His smile widened and his body visibly relaxed. Maybe he’d needed assurances as well. His words were even quieter this time, and he leaned closer. “When we get home… er, to your house, I mean… can I be inside of you again?”

  “You never have to ask that. The answer will always be yes.” My erection sprung back to life in that instant. Probably from equal measure anticipation of him fucking me again and his accidentally insinuating my house being home. I didn’t comment on that part. “It’s a good thing I sit down for a living. It really had been quite a while. And having your big dick in me twice in one night might make it challenging to walk tomorrow.”

  He laughed, louder than he probably meant to, and looked around the room yet again. “The idea of you sitting in your therapy sessions while feeling me still in your ass is maybe the hottest thing I’ve ever thought of.”

  I wasn’t about to disagree. But I needed to change the subject or the erection was going to become an issue. “So, I never asked, how did you end up at that party at Paulie’s?” Talking about a sex party probably wasn’t the best strategy.

  “Who?” The confusion that clouded his face cleared almost instantly. “Oh, the guy who owned that mansion. I don’t even know if I met him officially. A friend of mine at the firm invited me. I guess the two of them are friends.”

  I nodded as I took a bite of my carnitas and chewed. Then I realized the implications of that. “Wait a minute, you’re out at work?”

  Spencer flinched, looking around yet again at the other diners. He turned wide eyes toward me. “Geesh, could you say that louder?” Though he seemed startled, there was humor in his voice, not anger.

  I grimaced. “Sorry about that. You just surprised me.”

  “Not a big deal. But no, I’m not out at work.” He rolled his eyes. “Kind of a stupid story really. Or a story that shows I’m stupid, I suppose. Like I told you, I’m entirely new to the whole hookup thing. I downloaded one of those apps and was on it while in the bathroom at work. Never even entered my mind that someone else in the firm might be on it too. Anyway, Nick, he’s one of the paralegals, was online and saw me. He’s the one who invited me.”

  I didn’t like the feeling that went through me at the thought of whoever Nick was. It wasn’t a sensation I was familiar with either. “So, you and Nick…?”

  “No, not even a little.” He chuckled, tilted his head, and smiled. “Are you jealous?”

  I shook my head. “No.” Well, that didn’t sound defensive at all.

  His grin grew. “You are!”

  No sense denying it again. “Sorry. Just a gut reaction, I guess.”

  “I kinda like it.” He took a bite of his burrito, still grinning. He looked a little proud. And adorable.

  We ate in silence for a few minutes, though the awkwardness and tension seemed to be gone. I still wished I could reach across and touch his hand or do something utterly ridiculous like play footsie under the table, but it helped knowing Spencer felt the same about things on the other side of sex. A decade of fantasies and strangled hopes had just blossomed in front of me. More than that, if this was to be believed, my entire life had completely changed in the course of a couple of hours.

  Holy shit.

  “Donovan, are you okay? You look like you’re going to be sick.”

  I smiled at him, or at least I tried to. Who knows what expression I really gave. “Yeah, I am. It just hit me, again, how big all of this is.”

  He nodded solemnly. “Believe me, I get it.”

  I scrolled through different conversation topics in my head, trying to land on anything that would be good. I didn’t want to talk about work or family. Not even the kids. Movies and music was too inane. I was tempted to ask how he was doing, really doing, considering his reparative therapy past and having just had gay intercourse for the first time. But I wasn’t sure I’d be able to have the conversation in that moment and know when I slipped from lover to therapist. I fell back to the sex party. It seemed I had a one-track mind. “So, you knew it was me when I talked to that other guy at the masquerade, while you were…. I can’t believe you didn’t bolt right then and there.”

  Spencer halted with a fork lifted halfway to his lips, and then he placed it back on the plate. He looked nervous. “Well, that wasn’t exactly true.”

  “Oh, you didn’t know it was me?” That disappointed me and didn’t make sense.

  He cringed. “I knew who you were the moment I saw you.”

  I had to process that; maybe he was teasing. “You did?”

  Spencer nodded and wrinkled his nose in way of an apology.

  “So when you approached me, you knew it was me? When you started to….”

  “Yeah. Sorry if that makes you feel weird. Like I said, I’d wanted you forever. And there you were, right in front of me. I felt I’d never get that chance again. I wasn’t strong enough to resist you, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to let you slip through my fingers when I could finally have you, at least, in one way.”

  I gaped at him, truly letting the implication of his words sink in. He had known; the whole time, he’d known it was me. One more ounce of proof that his claims of desire were real. Not that I needed any more proof. But the confirmation was breathtaking.

  “I’m sorry, Donovan. I hope that doesn’t make you feel betrayed.”

  Betrayed? Why the hell would I feel betrayed? The fulfillment of my fantasy falls in my lap—the last thing I felt was betrayed. “You kidding? I didn’t think this day could get any better, but you just made it so.”

  His voice shot up, surprised. “Really?”

  “Oh, hell yeah.” I leaned closer. “How’d you know it was me?”

  Spencer laughed and shook his head. “It’s kind of cute that you thought you were actually in disguise. You had on a wolf snout over your nose and a leather jacket. Anybody who wanted to recognize you could have.” He tapped my piña colada with his fingernail. “Plus, you’re the only grown man I know who orders these at a party. Or anywhere other than a beach, for that matter.”

  I felt my cheeks flush. “They’re good.”

  “See? Totally cute.” He straightened, probably realizing how intimate we looked even though we weren’t touching. “And me? You said you realized it was me. How? I was covered in fur and half of a mask. I know you hadn’t seen my body since I lost weight and waxed it clean.”

  “Not till the very end, actually. Your cape slid out of place, and I saw the tattoo on the back of your shoulder.”

  “Oh.” He shook his head. “I didn’t even think about the tattoo. I do my best to forget that stupid thing is even back there.”

  I realized I had never asked him about his tattoo. Never asked him about a million things over the years, anything that seemed too personal or would’ve revealed that I’d been inspecting him. It was time to change that. “What is that tattoo? I’ve never been able to figure it out.”

  He rolled his eyes again, and his tone took on a frustrated, sad timbre. “That’s because I got it at some spur-of-the-moment crap shop. It never looked very good, but it started fading within a year, and all the ink blurred. Now it’s pretty much just a mess. I keep meaning to try to get it lasered off, but I just haven’t.” He sat up, his voice brightening. “Actually, I’ll do that soon. I was afraid it would mean I was giving up if I ever got it removed. But now, it would mean freedom. I should’ve done that the day the divorce was finalized.”

  I liked the change in his tone, but I had to know. “Why? How could getting rid of it mean you were giving up?”

  He sighed and sounded sad once again. “It was the beginning of my years in reparative therapy.” He made a flustered gesture with his hands. “When I was little, I was pretty effeminate.” He lifted his brows. “You look like that surprises you?”

  “Yeah. There’s nothing feminine about you at all, except that you’re kind and patien
t and all of those sort of things. But I always chalked that up to you being a good preacher’s son. That, and you’re genuinely a good man. But those things aren’t actually feminine; they’re just qualities our culture ascribes to women more than men.”

  “Spoken like a therapist, for sure.” Spencer chuckled, though it still didn’t sound happy. “When I was a kid, my father would harp on me anytime I walked a little swishy or had a lilt in my voice. There were a million things, countless ways in which I wasn’t manly enough, even as a kid. But over the years, I practiced and practiced”—he extended both of his arms in a sweeping motion—“and this is what emerged.”

  One of the things I was so attracted to about Spencer was how masculine he seemed all the time. To know that quality had come from a painful place hurt a bit. “How does that relate to the tattoo?”

  “Oh, right.” He sighed in disgust. “Like I said, I’d just gotten into reparative therapy. I wanted a tattoo that proclaimed my faith that God was going to heal me. God is often referred to as the Lion of Judah. And lions are about as masculine as you can get. Some would say butch even.” He winked, a little bit of his playful nature returning. “So I got a lion. A manly, godly lion. But now it just looks like a weird fuzzy cat.”

  My heart broke for him, for the child he was, for the young man he had been. It was killing me not to reach across the table and touch him. I did the next best thing and tried to make him smile. “Well, you did dress up as a mixture of the Phantom and the musical Cats. Maybe you can tattoo a phantom mask on it and call it good.”