Ariel Trevayne has grown into a lovely young woman, they would say. And, someone had better snatch Ariel Trevayne up before while she’s still available.
The girl was only twenty-two years old—too young for me—yet it seemed my parents were trying to push me in her direction. I’d even overheard my father and Alex’s father, Lionel Trevayne, discussing a possible union over lunch at the country club. They’d immediately changed the subject when I sat down, but I’d heard the tail end of their conversation and seen the conspiratorial looks on their faces. They definitely wanted me to marry Ariel.
I wondered what they would think if they knew Alex was more my type.
I’d spent my entire adult life trying to blend. Flirting with women, talking about women, attending events with the most eligible single ladies on my arm. I was twenty-eight years old, and I’d never so much as hinted to anyone—outside of other gay men—that I didn’t play for the home team. If I came out as a single man with no prospects, my parents would likely disown me, and it would be just as bad if I were dating someone who was socially inferior. Or, God forbid, one of those gay men who attended Pride parades and proudly flaunted their rainbow status.
So, I considered Alex; how could I not? It was true that the two of us would make quite the power couple. But I had no real feelings for him, and I suspected he had none for me, either. He definitely wanted me physically, but beyond that, I wasn’t even sure Alex Trevayne had the capacity for deeper feelings.
He had discovered I was gay completely by accident one summer break when he’d been home from college. Since our parents were close friends and members of the same country club, Alex and I had spent some time together over the years. When I was in high school, he had treated me like an annoying little kid, but on this particular summer—when he was twenty-five, and I was twenty-one—he’d looked at me differently. He’d invited me out drinking with him and his friends on multiple occasions, and his family had accompanied my family to our lake house for a week.
During that week, Alex and I spent far too many hours drunk and alone with each other, and it didn’t take long before things got out of hand. On our second night there, we’d sat together on the dock sharing a bottle of whiskey pilfered from my father’s liquor cabinet, and Alex had leaned over and kissed me. By the end of the summer break, we’d shared much more than a bottle of whiskey and a kiss, though we never went all the way.
The thing with Alex had seemed like a dream come true for a guy like me who was used to hiding. For once, I didn’t have to rely on random hook-ups to get what I needed. But when Alex returned to school, whatever feelings I’d thought were blossoming between us had gone with him, and our plans to stay in touch soon fizzled out.
Over the years, we had still seen each other on holidays and at social events, especially after Alex returned to do his residency at Vanderbilt and eventually became a staff surgeon. There had been a handful of blowjobs, but nothing substantial, and eventually Alex had started seeing someone.
They’d stayed together for several years, but when they broke up about a year ago, Alex had suddenly set his sights back on me. I had remained aloof, though. As tempting as it was to be with a handsome, successful man whom my parents would possibly approve of, something was missing.
There was also the problem of Jason Whitham. Ever since he’d shown up, the thought of settling for anything less than everything had become unbearable. He was out and proud and didn’t give a good goddamn if everyone knew it, and being around him had changed me in some fundamental way. He made me feel ashamed of my pettiness, and even more ashamed of my cowardice. Something in his Caribbean-blue eyes seemed to say, If I can do it, why can’t you? I didn’t have an answer to that question, but Jason made me want to figure it out.
Tonight, when I’d spotted him at the New Year’s Eve party, my heart had stuttered in my chest. I’d seen him in scrubs a million times, and I’d spent hours upon hours ogling his trim hips and strong thighs on the tennis courts. But the way he was dressed tonight—well, this was something new.
He wore sleek gray dress pants that hugged his ass like a second skin, caressing it as he walked like I wished my hands could do. His silk button-up shirt was patterned in a fine blue-and-gray check that brought out the blue in his Caribbean eyes. His ash blond hair, normally wash-and-go, was slicked back with a light sheen of pomade. He exuded a level of sophistication I’d never have thought possible. He’d officially gone from adorable to hot in the space of a few hours, and the sight of him took my breath away.
“So where do you want to go?” he asked, uncertainty clouding his eyes.
“What?” I swam up from my haze of beer and bitter memories and stared at Jason. Had I just asked him to leave with me? Jesus, how much beer had I drunk?
“You said you wanted to get out of here, right?” The uncertainty in his eyes deepened, and the corners of his mouth dipped into a frown.
What on earth was I doing? All this time I’d pushed down my feelings for Jason, and now here I was, drunk and stupid and making a move. This was the worst idea in the history of ideas because Jason wasn’t the hook-up kind of guy. He was the dating and moving in and marrying kind, and I couldn’t offer him any of those things. That’s why I needed to walk the fuck away.
But his face… his damn gorgeous face was like a blinding beacon of innocence. He was idealistic in a way I could never be. We didn’t fit; we were practically two different species. I was a social animal, and he was… real.
The thought of Jason Whitham moving in the same circles as me—as my parents—was absurd to the point of comedy. Jason wasn’t marrying material, not for Arthur Johnson’s son. If I’d ever shown up to an important social function with him by my side, my father would have died of a heart attack and then rolled over in his grave. Twice.
But those eyes… I could have fallen into those eyes and drowned, and maybe I already had. God knows I was flailing like a man without a life preserver.
I looked around to see if anyone was watching us. If anyone would notice us slipping out the door before the clock struck midnight. They were all preoccupied, and Jason was staring expectantly at me. Nothing left to do but finish what I’d started.
“Yeah,” I said, my voice too gravelly. I cleared my throat. “I definitely want to go somewhere if you’re game. No one is paying us any attention.”
“Yeah, because it’s almost midnight. Are you sure you want to go now? Before the ball drops, I mean. Wasn’t there someone— I mean, I figured you would want to—” He inclined his head toward the group of nurses I’d spent half the night dodging.
Oh, yeah.
I’d forgotten there was one little problem. Jason, whom I’d ogled so much I had permanent pre-cum stains in my scrub pants, thought I was straight.
I chuckled at my own stupidity. Here I thought he had just agreed to hook up with me, and the truth was he didn’t even realize I was hitting on him. Clearly, I needed to step up my game.
“You figured what?” I asked, teasing him just a little.
“That you’d… you know. It’s a tradition. You weren’t planning on kissing anyone when the ball drops?”
I took a step toward him and dropped my voice low. “Well, that depends.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Depends on what?”
One more step forward, and I was in his personal space, so close I could feel the heat coming off of him. I took a long swig of beer and licked my lips. “On whether you like the taste of second-hand IPA.”
My dick was hard now, probably showing, and it only got harder when Jason licked his own lips. I took one more incremental step forward, way too close now, and Jason’s eyes darkened as his pupils dilated.
He just stood there like a deer in headlights. So adorable.
“Let’s go someplace quiet.” I bumped his chest with mine, starting him moving toward the door, and glanced around the room as I followed. Most everyone was crowded around the TV now, waiting for that one
moment when the ball would drop, and everything in the world would feel shiny and new. No one seemed to be watching us, and that was good.
The hallway outside was empty, and I grabbed Jason’s hand and dragged him to a break room a few doors down. Jason was laughing by the time I pulled the door open and shoved him inside. The room was cold and dark, with tables and chairs hunkering in the shadows as if catching a little nap before the morning crowd hit. Being a doctor and having to take call, I could definitely relate to that.
“What are we doing?” Jason’s voice quivered with nerves, and it only served to heighten my arousal. “Are we having coffee?”
“Coffee is the last thing on my mind.” I stalked him toward the wall just inside the door, and he retreated. Just like I wanted him to.
His back came up against the wall with a thump. “I, uh—” He ran a hand through his hair, then stared at his hand with startled eyes. “Dammit, I forgot I put that junk in my hair.” He wiped his palm against the fabric of his pants with a nervous little laugh.
“That junk looks good in your hair,” I said, so close now I caught the scent of it. Like patchouli and musk. “Smells good, too.”
I reached out and cupped his jaw, running my thumb back and forth along his full bottom lip. A swath of muted light from the break room window slanted across his face, illuminating the blue in his eyes just right. God, I wanted to fall right into them. To get lost in him and never resurface.
“What are you doing?” he breathed.
As if he didn’t know. How could a twenty-eight-year-old man seem so damned innocent?
“Looking at you.” I leaned my free hand on the wall beside him, caging him in. Even in the low light, I thought I saw him blush.
“You look at me all the time.” His eyes darted to the side as if being looked at so intently made him uncomfortable. “Almost every day.”
“I do. And I still haven’t gotten my fill.”
A breath caught in his throat, and his gaze slid back to mine. “I don’t understand. I feel like I’m getting some mixed signals here, maybe because we’ve had too much to drink. I— You are straight, right?”
I chuckled. “Not even a little bit.”
“But you never told me.”
“Yeah? Well, you never told me you had a cat. Now we’re even.”
“That’s different, and you know it. It’s just—“
Before he could finish his thought, a cheer went up from down the hall, muted by the walls between us but loud enough to be heard. Party horns squealed, and music played, the notes tinny and unrecognizable, but the message was clear.
“Mmmm…” I growled, feeling anticipation sizzling through my veins. “It’s midnight. Time for that kiss.”
I leaned in and captured Jason’s lips, gently at first, and his moved against mine. Soft, sweet, tentative. The feel of him, the taste of him I’d wanted to steal since the first time I’d laid eyes on him… It was all mine in this frozen moment in time, and I pressed in and claimed more, unable to hold back any longer.
We kissed like there was no tomorrow, my hand winding into the hair at the nape of his neck and feeling the pomade sticky on my skin. I didn’t care. Need was upon me, and that need had been denied for far too long.
The occasional Grindr hookup wasn’t getting it anymore, especially when lately I just closed my eyes and imagined they were Jason. But now I had the real thing in my arms, and I wanted more. I wanted to be inside him. I wanted it all.
I pressed my body into his, flattening him to the wall, and rocked my erection against him. He groaned into my mouth and pushed back with his hips. I could feel him, feel how hard he was, and the friction of our cocks skating against each other set off a volley of fireworks in my head. Or maybe it was the sound of fireworks coming from the other room. Who the hell could tell at that point? I was so turned on I couldn’t think straight.
Jason was here, pressed against my body, squirming in my grip as I dug my fingers into his hip hard enough to make him groan and pull slightly away from my kiss.
“Mark,” he panted against my cheek. His arms wound around my neck and pulled me close. “I want—”
He didn’t finish his sentence, dammit. What? What did sweet, beautiful Jason Whitham want from me? Because I knew what I wanted. My dick was a steel rod in my pants, and my heart was pounding like a goddamn war drum.
I released my death grip on his hip and slid my hand between us, grabbing onto his hard cock and stroking roughly through the fabric. Yes, God yes, this is what I wanted. Had wanted for what seemed like ages. I turned my attention to my own dick, squeezing it for relief as my arousal became almost too much to bear.
“You want what, baby? You want my big cock inside of you? Is that what you want?” I fumbled drunkenly with my zipper and brought it down, the sound cutting through the room with startling clarity.
And then Jason froze. Just fucking froze.
I pulled back and searched for his eyes in the dark. Still panting with mounting desire, I asked, “What is it? Is something wrong?”
He didn’t say anything. Just stood there with a mix of confusion and worry on his face.
I leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips, and then another, getting very little in return. “Hey, I’ve got a condom.” I stuck my hand into the pocket of my pants and brought out the contents. “I’ve even got lube, see? No worries.”
“You come prepared,” he said. And was that bitterness in his tone? Jesus Christ, what had gone wrong?
I moved against him and bent to place a kiss to the side of his neck. “What the fuck just happened, J? Talk to me.”
He pushed against me hard enough to make me stumble back, and suddenly I felt like the world’s biggest asshole, standing there with my pants unzipped, and a condom and lube clutched in my palm.
“This was a mistake,” he said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—” He pushed past me and headed for the door.
“No no no no no. Jason, wait.” I moved between him and the door, frantic to get this sorted out. My dick was hard enough to pound nails into a two-by-four, and he was hard, too. I’d felt the evidence pressed against me only seconds before. So, what had happened?
Jason gazed up at me, and a smile ghosted his kiss-swollen lips. But he didn’t look happy or pleased in the least. His eyes glistened with moisture, and there was something in their depths—something dark and sad that gave my heart a lurch.
“It’s fine,” he said. “Everything is fine. I’ll…see you in the morning.” He tried for a brighter smile, but it just looked forced. “Get some sleep, okay? We don’t need a hung-over doctor killing patients in the ED.”
Then he ducked past me and pushed through the door, and I rang in the New Year with an unsatisfied boner and a busted ego.
Well, look on the bright side, I thought bitterly. The year can only get better from here.
5
Jason
The Emergency Department was a madhouse when I got there at a quarter to seven. It was cold and misty outside, and that mist probably had something to do with the number of patients already crammed into the ED.
New Year’s was always a busy time, and I’d been reminded of that fact before I’d even made it to Vandy. The blood alcohol content of the population of Nashville was probably at least double the norm on the first day of the year. Add to that the low visibility caused by the fog, and you had the makings for a rash of accidents. Traffic was congested, abandoned or disabled vehicles littered the shoulders of the interstate, and the highway incident crews and state patrols were out in full force. I barely made it to work on time, and I mentally patted myself on the back for thinking ahead.
“Gotta love the holidays,” I muttered to myself as the ED doors slid open with a whoosh and I stepped inside.
I made a beeline for the break room, where I stashed my lunch in the refrigerator. Then I navigated to the computers, logged onto an available machine, and started taking patients, trying my best not to think about what had h
appened the night before.
First, there was a kid with asthma who needed a breathing treatment and a refill on his inhaler. Then an elderly woman with a heart rate in the thirties who seemed otherwise stable. Her EKG indicated a bad blockage, so I had to call Dr. Rosenfeld in for that one. Within the hour, we had her upstairs getting prepped for a pacemaker.
A man presented with chest pains, but after a lengthy interrogation, I determined that it was gas from all of the holiday food he’d eaten the day before. It was nearly one before things slowed down enough to break for lunch, which was not unusual. Hell, I’d even learned to hold off on bathroom breaks to the point normal people would have pissed themselves. Such was the life of an ED resident.
The break room was empty when I got there, and I took a moment to sprawl out in one of the chairs and just breathe while my food warmed in the microwave. When the beep sounded to tell me my broccoli chicken was done, I groaned and dragged myself out of the chair.
The problem with relaxing during a shift was that I always had to get back up, and by that time my muscles had slowed down enough to get the message that they were worn out. Fuck, I felt stiff. And it didn’t help that I was slightly dehydrated from last night’s alcohol binge.
I also hadn’t gotten much sleep. The alcohol had helped, but it hadn’t been enough to beat back the thoughts of Mark and what had happened between us. The harder I tried to put it out of my mind, the worse it got. The memories of the kisses we had shared, the feel of his hand on my dick. It had been a dream come true, except for—You want my big cock inside of you?—Mark turning out to be a total douchebag.
God, it made me so angry. And so…ashamed. Over a year of pining away for Mark Johnson, of dreaming of loving him and being loved by him, and he’d made me feel like a cheap piece of ass. A drunken, groping one-night stand in a freaking hotel break room.
I could still remember the press of his hard body against mine and the longing that had nearly consumed me. Nearly made me do something I would have regretted for the rest of my life.
Dr. Perfect: A Contemporary Romance Bundle Page 5