Sweet Bitter Honey

by Liz Crowe

  “Hey, handsome. Let’s dance.” She pulled him to his feet. He went, reluctantly, after telling Brutus to stay. “Thanks.” Audrey leaned on his shoulder while music swirled and he could hear people muttering about ‘that poor man’ and other bullshit. He swallowed the fury that threatened. “You okay?” his sister asked.

  He nodded, determined not to ruin this for her with his usual melodrama. They moved around the dance floor and strains of Stand by Me floated through his brain.

  “I love you, Audrey,” he said, his throat closing. “I’m so glad you found happiness.”

  He held her close, comforted by the under-the-radar pinging of the baby’s heartbeat. He frowned when the familiar whoosh-whoosh seemed to take a little jump, get faster. Before he could focus on it, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He stepped back, handing Audrey over to her new husband.

  “Hang on,” Audrey said, taking his hand to lead him to his seat. But he shook her off.

  “No, go on, dance. I’m fine.” He stood a moment, alone, his own heartbeat pounding so loudly it drowned everything else out. He realized he was frozen in the grip of a sudden panic attack. Why had he brushed her off? He’d actually believed he could find his own way off the dance floor to a seat?

  No, he couldn’t even manage something that simple on his own. He put a trembling hand down to his side, but his dog wasn’t there. He lifted his arm, but Jake didn’t appear. Then he felt her, Lynette, the girl who smelled like honey. She slipped into his embrace as if she’d been there her whole life. He sighed, put one hand on her hip and threaded fingers of his other with hers.

  Cole had lost his virginity to a girl in high school. It had not been unpleasant, but quick like most male deflowerings were. She’d been a couple of years older than him, a friend on the track team. They stayed friends, and she’d told him he should open his eyes and own up to the fact that he was probably gay. He’d had a few more female sex partners during the years he spent in college. But by his junior year, he’d been unable to sleep, compelled by something he could not name, when he’d met and fallen for a much older man.

  He shivered, recalling long-buried memories of his first true male sexual experience and his subsequent obsession with the handsome, erudite and very married calculus professor. When Dr. Grant Patterson had called their torrid affair finished because he felt Cole was getting ‘too attached’ Cole had experienced the first of what he’d learn were near suicidal depressions.

  He had loved Grant with everything he had but later came to terms with what it had been—his true deflowering, an honest sexual awakening that had left him breathless and horny every waking moment, but nothing more. Afterward he’d been firmly convinced that ‘gay’ was the word for him. Not ‘bi’ or ‘curious’ or in any way anything other than a man who loved men.

  But right now, this minute, with the lovely Lynette in his arms, every inch of his skin was on fire. He could hardly breathe for the sweet essence that emanated from her pores. He shifted so she couldn’t feel just how turned on he was, frowning when she molded herself back against him. “Cut it out,” he whispered in her ear, letting his lips touch her flesh just enough to allow a taste to coat his tongue. He moved his hand around to the small of her back and held her close. If she wanted to feel his erection, then that was her choice.

  The small sound she made deep in her throat—a sort of sigh crossed with a deeper, sexier sound—nearly made him come unglued. She turned her face so he could feel her breath on his skin while they swayed into the next song, to music Cole no longer heard. “Cut what out?” The hand she had on his shoulder moved closer to his neck. “You are really good-looking,” she whispered.

  “No, I’m apparently a unicorn, or at the very least an optical illusion. The man who claims he loves only men but gets turned on by you. Go figure.”

  “All that hotness and a sense of humor, too. Nice.” Her fingertip grazed his neck.

  “This is the strangest thing that’s ever happened to me.” He heard his voice break. But he kept his nose near her hair—anything to keep smelling her. He moved his hand a little lower, relishing her soft curves, the light-as-air feeling in his arms. So different from what he believed he wanted and so absolutely right, at this moment.

  “Oh?” She cupped his neck and slipped her fingers in his hair.

  “Yeah, using a slow dance to grope is not part of my repertoire, under normal circumstances.”

  “You’re hardly groping, Cole. Believe me.”

  He flinched when her lips touched his jaw. But the contact was soft, not urgent, amazing and pleasant and just about all he could take. He needed to push her away, but in some kind of contrarian move, he lowered his face and their lips met. He kept it soft, clamping down on the urge to press further. Then he broke the connection, leaning into her ear once more. “You smell so good. And you feel…” He held her close. “Perfect. I wish…” He blew out a breath.

  She put her head on his shoulder when the song ended, then stepped away from him, still holding on to his hand. “What do you wish?” she asked while they made their way off the dance floor. He put his arm around her shoulders. The contrast between her and all the men he’d had was startling. She felt slight, like a bird, crushable. But a sudden thought flashed over his brain—a vision, if that were possible—of him, and her, of them. The mental picture of her slim bare legs on either side of his hips, her lips on his, his flesh indistinguishable from hers made his cock throb and his head pound in time with it.

  He sat quickly, put her hand to his lips and kissed it then released her. But she must have knelt down on the side opposite the dog that had quickly bumped his nose against Cole’s thigh. Her hand was on his other leg, her lips way too close to his ear yet again. “Tell me what you wish, Cole.”

  He reached up and touched her face, loving the soft flesh under his palm. “I wish I could see you.”

  “You are seeing me,” she said, covering his hand with hers and bringing it to her lips. He allowed his fingertips to graze her cheekbones, her nose, the long line of her neck.

  Then with a quick kiss to his cheek, she was gone, trailing that intoxicating honey aroma with her. Cole shivered, trying to square a long-buried need and attempting to understand why he even felt it for the woman that Ryan had brought to his sister’s wedding—one who he knew from direct experience Ryan was satisfying in his own way.

  Cole didn’t know what was worse—being jealous of Ryan’s relationship with her or of Ryan’s easy comfort with his own bisexuality. He groaned and put his head down, ignoring Jake once again when the man put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

  * * * *

  An hour later, Ryan was exhausted. Still tingling from the quickie with Lynette, his brain was entering shutdown mode after the long, emotional slog of the day’s events. Jamie was draped over his shoulder, stripped down to his dress pants and T-shirt, snoring away a sugar crash. Nursing another beer, he handed the kid over to Tracey and stood, stretching out the kink in his lower back.

  He’d observed the Lynette and Cole dance floor show and was still trying to process how he felt about it. Surprised that above all the alpha-male possessive clamor that had rattled around in his brain at first, the sight of the man’s hand sliding down from her hip and the way she curved into his long, lean frame had turned him on so much he had to duck into the men’s room and breathe deeply for a few minutes.

  They were, in a word, beautiful, moving together in time to the music. Their bodies fit like pieces of a puzzle he was dying to get his hands on. He gnawed on the inside of his cheek, forcing the memory out of his brain lest he tent his tux pants all over again. He wanted them to do more, willed them to kiss, and when they had, he’d nearly come apart at the seams.

  The band shifted gears and took on a funky beat with Boogie Shoes. Lynette walked by, tugged his arm, and they ended up on the dance floor for the next few songs. He laughed, watching her shimmy and shake, and at one point he held her close, bit her earlobe and felt her shiver. �
��Nice work with Cole. It was quite the show.”

  She turned her head, grabbed his neck and kissed him with an embarrassing ferocity. He was in tune enough to her signals by now and could practically feel her nipples hardening against his chest, could smell her lusty energy all around him. “Maybe,” she said, after loosening her lip lock on him. “You like to watch?”

  “I don’t think you’ll be terribly surprised to hear this, but yes, I do.” He reached back and cupped her ass, drawing her closer.

  “Hmm…well, in the meantime, I think we should probably call it a night.” She danced away from him, shaking her hips and looking over her shoulder. He stood, hands in his pockets, and watched her move away until something else caught his eye. He did a quarter turn and spotted Cole sitting with that cover-model-slash-business-partner-slash-fuck-buddy Jake. Their faces were close. Jake was talking. Cole smiled, and the sight of it made Ryan’s heart clench. When Cole took Jake’s hand, he had to look away. What in the name of all that was holy was he even thinking?

  Entertaining some kind of perverse fantasy about putting together the two people he cared about, who possessed him in body and spirit—so he could watch them fuck?

  Jesus. You are one sick bastard, Shannon.

  The back of his neck got prickly so he turned around on reflex and looked at Cole again. The other man had his sunglasses off. The bright, clear green of his sightless eyes knocked Ryan’s breath out of his lungs. He would swear that Cole could see him, really truly see. Cole stood, settling his Ray-Bans back in place, his dog at his side. The two men made their way over to where Audrey sat on Quinn’s lap.

  Ryan’s smiled. His brother so deserved this after all those years of insanity at the hands of his ex-wife. But his smile faded as he watched Audrey’s brother approach them, Jake’s huge possessive hand on his shoulder. Audrey jumped up and gave Cole a hug. Quinn shook his hand, then Jake’s. Then the men walked out, together, and Ryan was left with his fantasies, one in particular of landing a hard left hook to Jake’s firm jaw.

  “Hey,” he yelped when someone wrapped arms around his waist from behind. He drew the sexy redhead around to his side. “You temptress. Look what you’ve done to me with your dance floor seductions.” He held her close, trying to quell the now crystal-clear vision of Cole, between Lynette’s legs, moving up her body and sliding into her while Ryan stood behind them.

  “Nice,” he said, when she put her hand right on his cock. “Slutty. I like it. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Cole woke, sat up and rubbed his face. No matter how many mornings he faced, it was always the same thing—the quick terror of darkness accompanied by frustration, then gloom when he remembered no matter what he did, his eyes would never cooperate. Brutus snuffled around next to him, pushing at his hand and whining.

  “What is that noise?” Jake grumbled on his other side. Cole sighed and swung his legs to the floor. He honestly didn’t recall agreeing to a sleepover but he’d been so down lately, more than usual after the wedding and strange encounter with Lynette, that he didn’t have the energy to argue about it. “Cole, here. It’s your phone.” He jumped when Jake poked his shoulder with the clanging device. He didn’t recognize the ring so at least it wasn’t Audrey, or Quinn, each of whom had an assigned tone.

  “Yeah?” he croaked into the phone. “This had better be pretty important.” He felt Jake’s hand on his bare shoulder but moved away from him at the sound of Ryan’s voice.

  “Hey, yeah, it is. Sorry.”

  He jumped to his feet, knocking his big toe against the bedside table and cursing while jumping around and trying not to panic. “Shit. Is it Audrey? What’s wrong?”

  “No, no, it’s not her. Relax. You okay?”

  “What the hell is it, then?” He sat back down on the bed and rubbed his sore toe.

  “Something’s gone wrong at the brewery. We had a power outage around midnight and the generator kicked in, but I can’t get the main computer to fire back up.”

  “So? Call your IT guy.”

  “He’s on vacation. Listen, Cole, if I don’t get the brewery back online, I have something like a million gallons of beer that will spoil. Can you…I mean, I can come get you.”

  “What the fuck do you think I can do about it?” He kept his voice gruff, but his heart was lifting at the thought of being pulled into Ryan’s orbit again, even if it were over an easy computer fix.

  “I don’t know. Crap, I’m fucked. Never mind. I’ll figure something else out.”

  “Hang on, hang on.” Cole stood and stretched. He heard Jake’s soft exhalation and knew immediately the man was not happy. At that moment he realized something—he had to cut off his physical relationship with the guy. It wasn’t fair to him. Jake was a top-notch business partner, finding them high-level security computer problems to solve, not to mention the money to fund their daily expenses.

  But he, Cole, had to grow up and stop relying on Jake for sex. He put his arm down and the dog slid into his grasp. “I need a quick shower. And will need a ride.”

  “I’ll be there in a half hour. Thanks.”

  * * * *

  After a stressful hour spent with Cole trying to get Lynette to relay all the messages the server kept burping up on the screen while he attempted to reboot, the computer finally made the reassuring little singsong indicating that the operating system was back online. She handed him the phone so he could talk to Ryan, who was down in the brewery, anxiously waiting the fermenter indicators to flash back to life.

  “Okay, you should be good,” he said, shifting to the right in a vain attempt to get away from Lynette and her delicious scent. It was subdued in the wee hours of the morning and held a subtle overlay of Ryan. He had no doubt where the two of them had come from, roused from their activity when the security guard called about the power cut.

  “Yep, they’re all flashing back to life, thank God—no, thank you, Cole. Seriously.”

  “Eh, it’s fine. Easy.”

  “Okay, I’ll be up in a few minutes. I need to reset everything down here, make sure the bigger fermenters cool down properly.”

  “Sure, whatever.” He handed the phone to Lynette and leaned back, letting his fingers graze the reassuring fuzz of his dog’s ears. The animal made a concerned noise. He knew why. The sudden realization that he was alone with Lynette—she of the amazing scent, now layered with the definite Ryan one—had him sending anxious signals. Like he had the first time, when Cole had been so totally turned on by Ryan, Brutus was tracking his anxiety and wanted to get his master away from what was causing it.

  He sighed and forced his brain to be calm. But Lynette’s silence made him beyond nervous. He reached for the cup of coffee she’d brought him, sipped, set it down and tried to figure out how to get the hell away from her before he did something he would regret—something he didn’t even really understand at the moment.

  “Oh shit,” he groaned when he felt her hand on his neck, sliding up into his hair. She lifted his sunglasses off. Her lips covered his without a word. He let go of his death grip on the chair arms and gathered her close, sucking in huge lungsful of her sweet, sultry scent. Her small tongue probed between his lips, forcing them apart, and he wasn’t surprised to find she tasted as good as she smelled.

  She settled herself onto his lap, reminding him once more of the differences he had not given much thought to in the last fifteen years—the way a woman felt under his hands, soft, curvy and light was a stark comparison to what he usually liked.

  Oh yeah, then why the fuck is your cock so hard it could cut diamonds right now, genius?

  Jesus H. Christ, he wanted her. Wanted inside her, all over her, wanted to keep kissing her forever. His mind spun, trying to process, to stop him from this…thing…this female he had no business wanting but did so badly he was about to come in his shorts like a teenager.

  He slid his hand up her back, found her ponytail holder and tugged so he could bury both h
ands in her soft curls. She broke the kiss and leaned closer so his lips found her neck. He nibbled and licked, moaning as she ground down against his crotch.

  The noise she made, deep down in her throat, the same one she’d made on the dance floor, floated into his ear. Her essence took on a spicy, sexy note. Funny, how he never suspected that a turned-on female would smell so…fuckable. The word nearly made him laugh.

  “Oh,” she sighed when he ran his thumb across one rock-hard nipple. Her back arched and she must have yanked her shirt aside, or off, because before he knew it, his lips were sucking, his teeth tugging, at the most delicious flesh he could possibly imagine as he cradled one firm globe.

  He moved from one luscious nipple to the other while she kept rubbing against him, her hands in his hair, the heat of her pussy making his cock ache beneath the shorts he’d thrown on after the shower. “Goddamn it,” he grunted when she slid her hand down his chest, shifting back ever so slightly so she could touch him. Her small hand was cool on his aching shaft. “Don’t,” he whispered into her skin, moving back up to find her lips. “Seriously, I mean it.” But his words meant little. His hips moved of their own accord, thrusting and seeking more serious contact.

  “You want me, Cole?” she whispered, her teeth grazing his earlobe.

  “What? You can’t tell?” A sudden rush of painful lust shot through him, making him tremble. He gripped her hips, holding her still. “But I need to ask you something,” he said.

  “What?” She bit his lower lip, keeping up her hand action on his cock.

  He turned his head toward the door. “How do you feel about him watching us?”

  She jerked away, leaving Cole panting in the seat. His brain buzzed when the loop of fantasy ran through him once more—one starring the lovely woman who’d been on the verge of hand-jobbing him to climax and the man he’d sensed hovered in the doorway and who’d been there for at least the last ten minutes.