Words

by John Inman

  Logan still clutched Milo’s arms, not letting him back away. He was happy to see that Milo didn’t seem to mind, even if he did stink.

  “Did you really start smoking because of me?” Milo asked, his eyes wide, his head tilted back since Logan hadn’t shrunk in the last eight hours and consequently was still a head taller.

  Logan gave an embarrassed shrug. “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  “I was nervous about asking if I could see you again.”

  “Is that what you’re doing here?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You want to see me again?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why did you leave last night?”

  “Guilt.”

  “Guilt because of Jerry?”

  Logan blinked, obviously touched Milo had figured it out so easily. “Yes.”

  “And now you’re not feeling guilty anymore?”

  “Well… I’m trying not to.”

  “Just so you know, Logan, I enjoyed last night.”

  “So did I.”

  “You have a beautiful body.”

  “So do you.”

  “Your mind isn’t too annoying either. A little scattered maybe. A little harebrained.”

  “There you go with the adjectives again.”

  “If you step inside, I’ll take you back to bed.”

  Logan’s heart started pounding. Really loud. “Do you promise?”

  Milo smiled. They were still standing on Milo’s front porch in broad daylight wrapped in each other’s arms. Since that clearly wasn’t enough for Milo, he started pulling Logan’s shirttail out of his pants. “Yes, I promise. I’ll take you to bed as soon as I flush your cigarettes down the toilet and you spend a few intimate moments with my toothbrush and a gallon of Scope to scrub away the stench of tobacco.”

  “Borrowing toothbrushes is unhygienic. What if you have a gum disease?”

  “After last night, if I have a gum disease, then you’ve already got it.”

  “Oh, yeah. Just so you know, Milo. I’m not in love with you or anything.”

  “Of course not. We barely just met.”

  “I just want us to fool around some more. I mean, you know, maybe even on a regular basis.”

  “A regular basis sounds good to me.”

  “No kidding?”

  “Yeah. No kidding.”

  They both turned toward the street when the sound of a car peeling rubber jolted them out of their moment. The car sped past Milo’s front yard, tires screaming as it rounded the corner and disappeared.

  “Who was that?” Logan asked.

  Milo shook his head and sighed. “Just my ex. He seems to be jealous. Isn’t that a hoot?”

  “You mean he’s jealous of me?”

  “Could be. Or maybe he’s just being a dick as usual. Who knows? Who cares? Let’s go back to talking about us.”

  Logan didn’t quite know how to feel about Milo’s ex being jealous, or what he was doing on Milo’s street in front of Milo’s house either, since they had broken up years ago, but he wasn’t going to waste any time worrying about it. He felt his heart accelerate when Milo reached up and rubbed Logan’s earlobe. The gentleness of that touch made Logan’s eyes drift blissfully shut.

  “Come inside now,” Milo said softly. “My toothbrush is waiting.”

  Logan could only nod. With that gentle, sexy timbre in Milo’s voice and that glimmer of naughty fire burning in his eyes, Logan would have followed him anywhere.

  Chapter Nine

  DURING THE ensuing weeks, which positively flew by and were a wonder to Milo, he and Logan developed a routine. The routine was quite simple. They spent as much time as they could together. They talked. They made love. They walked the city with Spanky in tow. They ate out. They caught movies. They browsed bookstores. They made love some more.

  Mostly they got to know each other.

  The high point of their new routine, aside from making love and eating out, because nothing could top those, was lying naked in bed on Sunday mornings—either at Milo’s house or at Logan’s apartment—drinking mimosas and reading out loud to each other. Sometimes they read new installments of Milo’s WIP—which was finally moving along nicely—and sometimes they read Logan’s latest reviews or new additions to his blog. At other times they simply read whatever novel caught their fancy. Although it was not a genre Milo wrote in, or a genre Logan usually reviewed, gay romances quickly became a favorite. With the steamier ones, sometimes they didn’t finish reading at all.

  Such as today.

  A patina of sweat covered them both. The book Logan had been narrating lay forgotten on the floor at the side of the bed, right where it landed after Milo decided they had read enough for one morning. With a well-placed kiss or two in strategic places, he coaxed Logan into finding another pastime to help while away the morning. Now, exhausted and sexually sated, Milo lay in his favorite position at Logan’s side, his lips pressed to Logan’s ribs, his right leg flung over Logan’s left, trapping him in place, his hand splayed softly against the scruff on Logan’s cheek. While his thumb explored Logan’s lower lip, still moist from kisses and other exertions, Milo mumbled into the fragrant flesh before him.

  “I love the way you smell,” he mumbled.

  Logan twisted to the side and pulled Milo into his arms. He pressed his lips into Milo’s hair. Maybe he figured that was answer enough. And for Milo it was. He spent a long, joyous minute relishing the feel of Logan’s warm strong arms wrapped tightly around him.

  “Logan?” Milo whispered, this time into the hair on Logan’s chest, which was another one of his favorite destinations.

  “Hmm?”

  “Do you still feel guilty about being with me?”

  Logan hooked a finger under Milo’s chin and pulled his face up to where he could see it. When their gazes connected, he smiled. “No. I haven’t felt guilty about that for a long time.”

  Milo offered a lazy smile in return. He could still remember the feel of Logan’s cock buried deep inside him. He didn’t think he had ever been so contentedly fucked in his life.

  “Good,” he softly uttered, slipping from Logan’s line of sight and scooting inward to press his mouth into the warmth of Logan’s throat. He loved the scrubby feel of his beard in the morning before Logan shaved. He thought it was one of the most erotic sensations he had ever experienced. Especially after sex, when all his nerve endings were buzzing anyway.

  “Do you want me to read some more?” Logan asked, his voice as lazy and contented as Milo’s.

  “Only if you want.”

  “Or maybe I could just hold you for a while.”

  “Goody,” Milo muttered, and once again he buried his face in the hair on Logan’s chest. From there, he could hear the echoing thud of Logan’s heart. It was a sound he was growing dangerously fond of hearing.

  Idly, Milo asked, “Who do you hold when I’m not around?”

  “No one. I don’t like hugging more than one person at a time.”

  “And I’m that person for now?”

  “You’re that person.”

  “You could get a dog for a little variety in your hugging. Nothing underhanded about a person hugging their dog if they, you know, have a rule about hugging only one person at a time.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Do. Dog owners are more trustworthy. I really like dog owners.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I read Bryce’s book,” Logan said. He was smiling now. Milo could hear it in his voice. He also wondered if Logan was trying to change the subject, since he didn’t own a dog, and as far as Milo knew, didn’t plan on ever owning a dog.

  Milo lifted his head and propped himself on one elbow so he could stare into Logan’s eyes. It was funny, but they were always a softer, warmer color after sex. “Really? What made you decide to read Bryce’s book?”

  Logan killed a minute picking a loose eyelash from the corner of Milo’s eye. Whe
n he finished, he said, “I guess I was curious.”

  “So how was it?” Milo asked, not really caring one way or the other. He was too comfortable to care about much of anything.

  LOGAN HESITATED before answering. He let his eyes skid to the window and the cloudy sky outside. San Diego was having its first rain since Logan had moved into town almost two months before. He thought it odd that everyone here thought a rainstorm was such an event, such a treat, when back home it would have been nothing but an inconvenience. Weather-wise, Californians were like children, easily impressed, innocently awed. Still, it was kind of nice to see rain again. Logan hadn’t realized how much he missed it until it suddenly rolled in off the Pacific and began to rinse the city clean and freshen the air. When a gentle clamor of thunder grumbled overhead, he almost smiled. It was like hearing the long-forgotten voice of a grumpy old friend.

  His gaze slipped back to Milo’s face. “His book wasn’t bad.”

  “But?”

  “But it had its faults.”

  “It’s a first novel,” Milo said, surprising himself to be taking Bryce’s side. “You have to cut the guy some slack, don’t you think?”

  Logan shrugged. “I suppose. But still, the faults were fairly serious. I almost didn’t finish it.”

  “Ouch. Poor Bryce. Are you going to post a review?”

  “I haven’t decided.”

  Logan lost himself in Milo’s green eyes for a second. They were so beautiful he almost forgot what they were talking about.

  “Well?” Milo urged. “If you do decide to write a review, how many stars are we talking about?”

  “I don’t know. I’m assuming you haven’t read it.”

  Milo gently nibbled at Logan’s nipple. “No.” He looked up with a guilty expression on his face. “But I googled it. Checked out some of the other reviews.”

  Logan grinned. “Professional envy is such an ugly brute.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “I thought I just did.”

  Milo stretched up and laid a kiss to Logan’s chin. “And you did it spectacularly.”

  Logan couldn’t believe it, but he could actually feel himself blush. “Thanks.”

  Milo eyed him for a minute, clearly charmed by seeing a blush on the man who only twenty minutes earlier had his cock buried in Milo’s thrummingly eager ass and was pounding him like a jackhammer. And that thought made Logan blush even more. It also sort of turned him on.

  “Well?” Logan asked, pulling Milo close, savoring Milo’s heat. “How were they? The reviews?”

  Milo purred in Logan’s arms. When he answered, he spoke with his lips pressed to Logan’s chest, which turned Logan on even more. “They weren’t that great. A few comments spring to mind. ‘A lackluster first outing.’ ‘Too bad the book wasn’t as good as the blurb.’ ‘A promising but ultimately unsatisfying debut.’” Milo looked up, suddenly frowning. “And now there’s you about to add to the chorus. Poor Bryce,” he said again.

  “If you don’t want me to review it, I won’t.”

  “No,” Milo said, breaking eye contact and once again resting his forehead on Logan’s chest. “Do what you want. It’s okay. I know that whatever you say, it’ll be fair. Bryce has to learn to take his punches like the rest of us. Writing’s a tough business. Hard on the ego sometimes. But we all have to learn to deal with it.”

  Logan lay there considering what Milo had said. While he thought about it, he stroked lazy circles on the velvet skin of Milo’s back. Shuffling around to get more comfortable in the bed, he groaned happily and pulled Milo more firmly into his arms. Soon Bryce’s book was forgotten.

  “I’ve been enjoying our time together,” he said softly, Milo’s hair tickling his lips.

  Milo nodded and snuggled closer. When he spoke, his words came so softly Logan could barely hear them. “Me too.”

  “I never want it to stop.”

  “Neither do I.”

  As if on cue, they each pulled back. Milo looked up into Logan’s face just as Logan gazed down into his. Even to Logan’s own ears, his voice sounded broken, weak, bruised somehow, when he said, “We’re not just friends anymore, Milo. I think it’s gone beyond that. For me, anyway.”

  Milo nodded. “I know. For me too.”

  Again Logan folded his arms around Milo to hold him close. They lay quietly then, listening to the wind and rain rattle the windowpane at the side of the bed, enjoying the rare sound of thunder rumbling high in the sky. They clung to each other, thinking their own thoughts. Milo’s warm breath wakened the nerve endings on Logan’s skin as he continued to gently stroke Milo’s back.

  Soon Milo dozed. With a wondrous smile, lost in wondrous thoughts, Logan tucked Milo’s head under his chin. Burying his fingers in Milo’s hair, he held him there while he slept. Safe. Protected. Needed.

  In the blink of an eye everything had changed, and Logan knew it.

  He was pretty sure Milo knew it too.

  LATELY, LOGAN had taken to spending more time in Milo’s house than he did in his own apartment. He was continually astounded by the way his life had changed since he moved to California. It was as if fate had dragged him all the way across the country and, without hemming and hawing around about it for one little minute, immediately dumped him in front of Milo Cook and then stepped back to let their chemistry finish the job.

  And lord, how it had.

  Looking around at his apartment now, he realized he still didn’t feel at home in it. He was more at home with Milo and Spanky. Here he was a stranger even to himself. Even his possessions seemed alien, as if they belonged to someone else.

  When his phone rang, he picked it up, hoping it was Milo, for truthfully, that’s where every thought carried him. To Milo.

  To his surprise, it was Kathy, Jerry’s sister. “Logan,” she said, sounding breathless. “I’ve been trying to reach you for the last couple of weeks. Those two reviewers that were murdered. I’ve been so worried.”

  Suddenly Logan was swamped with guilt. He had played her messages. He knew she had called. But somehow he had never been in the right frame of mind to deal with his past, with the memories she brought flooding back. The guilt came because Kathy had always been a friend and a staunch ally of his and Jerry’s marriage. He knew how unfair it was of him to suddenly shut her out of his life.

  “I’m sorry, Kath,” he stammered lamely. “I’ve been meaning to call you back. And those murders were far away from here and had nothing to do with me.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I’m sure.”

  She didn’t sound angry, just a teeny bit perturbed. “Fine, then. I’ll be magnanimous about it. I forgive you for not calling me back. So have you gotten completely settled? Do you feel at home yet? Everyone here misses you, you know. Mom and Dad said to tell you hello.”

  Jerry’s parents, while never allies, had always shown Logan a rather befuddled courtesy, as if they could never quite wrap their heads around the fact that their son had married a man. Still, they had tried their best to accept him into their family. For that, Logan knew, he had their love of Jerry to thank more than their acceptance of himself. But that wasn’t their fault, and Logan always gave them credit for trying.

  “Tell them I miss them too,” Logan said. And then it happened. Without warning, the words came out of nowhere. “I’ve met someone, Kath.”

  His statement was greeted with absolute silence. Finally, a faint tinkle of laughter came through the receiver. “Well, it’s about time,” Kathy said. “It’s been over a year since Jerry died. You’ve been alone long enough!”

  Logan suddenly realized how what he said must have sounded. He immediately backtracked. “Don’t get me wrong. We’re not really together or anything. It’s just that….”

  “That what?”

  He was sounding lame again, and he knew it. “It’s just that I, well, I like him.”

  Again, Kathy laughed. “I remember when you hooked up with my brother. Jerry told me getting y
ou to tell him you loved him was like pulling teeth. You almost lost him over it.”

  “I know.”

  “Please, Logan. Don’t make the same mistake this time. It doesn’t sound to me like you like the guy. It sounds to me like you’re head over heels in love with him. And if you are, you should damn well tell him. The poor guy probably doesn’t read minds or have a crystal ball. You need to tell him how you feel. Bare your soul a little bit. Otherwise, how is he supposed to know?”

  “Who are you, Dear Abby?”

  Kathy huffed. Logan assumed it was for show, but he wasn’t sure.

  “No, asshole. I’m not Dear Abby. But I am the only person you currently have in your life who’ll actually tell you the truth without fear of bruising your legendarily sensitive ego.”

  It was Logan’s turn to laugh. “I’m not that insecure!” Then, less sure of himself, he asked, “Am I?”

  Kathy huffed again, this time around a chuckle. “Okay, fine. You’re not that insecure. So what’s this guy’s name? What does he do for a living? How much money does he make? How is he in bed? Is he a top or a bottom? For that matter, are you a top or a bottom? And while we’re on the subject, what exactly is a top or a bottom? I’ve never been entirely sure.”

  Kathy only stopped talking after Logan took the phone and banged it several times against the wall to shut her up. Howling with laughter, he said, “I’ll answer the first two questions and that’s it! His name is Milo Cook, and he’s a writer. So there.”

  Kathy sounded duly impressed. “Good lord, I think I’ve heard of him.”

  “This from the woman who only reads cookbooks and Far Side cartoons.”

  “Oh hush. So tell me the truth, Logan. Are you in love with him?”

  “I—I think so.”

  “But you haven’t told him.”

  “Well, no. Not yet. I keep hoping he’ll figure it out on his own.”

  “Well, that’s just plain stupid. You have to tell him!”

  Logan nodded as if she were in the room. He caught himself at it and stopped. God, he was getting dumber by the minute. “Yes. I know. But….”