Sweet Bitter Honey

by Liz Crowe

  “Uh, sorry.” Ryan’s rough voice betrayed how he felt. Cole’s face flushed. He stood, grabbing the dog’s lead, furious indignation mingled with embarrassment replacing all the lusty energy he’d been riding for the last few minutes.

  “I don’t know what you people are playing at, but the last thing I need is any more brain fucking. Got it?” He let the dog lead him to the door, to an elevator and down. The funky, malty brewery smells he’d learned to associate with his sister enveloped him. Weird, burbling noises, combined with metal pings and clanks, made Brutus skitter closer to him, bumping against his leg and nearly shoving him over.

  He ached with a need he refused to admit and his chest burned with a combination of humiliation and fury. “How the fuck do I get out of here?” Then it hit him. Even if he could find his way out, he had no way to get home. Because he was blind and helpless, at the mercy of people who could do normal things, like drive a car.

  He shook and backed up until his ass connected with something that felt like a chair and he sat, his face in his hands. The one thing he’d felt confident about—the core truth of his own sexuality that had forced him away from his family, made him hide his real self just so he could let the military form him into something new, he’d never doubted. He’d clung to it, recalling in a breathless rush his time with the professor, with Dan, his rough and raw encounters with Ryan and more recently Jake’s gentle, careful lovemaking.

  But images and memories of the women he’d fucked, their light, curvy, welcoming bodies, long hair, distinct, tantalizing odors shoved all that out, made him grit his teeth. He yanked the sunglasses off and willed his eyes sighted and himself whole again. Maybe he wouldn’t have all this conflict if he didn’t feel so useless. Complex, distressing emotion boiled through him. He clenched his fists. The dog bumped against him, whining.

  “Stop it,” he muttered. “Just leave me the fuck alone.” He stood, the restless energy of an unconsummated erotic moment making him antsy. He sat, then stood again and let the deep dark reality of his dependence—his stupid goddamned handicap—suffuse him.

  When a masculine hand landed on his shoulder, he leaped up and gripped the arm attached to it. “Take me home,” he demanded. “Now.”

  Ryan must have opened a door not a foot from him. Cole set his shoulders and let the dog lead him out. The ride home was quiet and tense beyond belief. Cole sensed Ryan’s need to speak but hoped he would stay quiet. He did.

  Ryan parked, keeping the engine running. Cole startled when Ryan touched his thigh. “Don’t fucking touch me.” But his voice was low, soft and when he lifted his face and found Ryan’s lips, it was exactly what he wanted.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Lynette’s face boiled as she looked from one man to the other. Cole sat, chest heaving, shorts tented but with fury etched into his face. Ryan stood in the door, hanging on to the doorjamb, his jaw set, but eyes unreadable. Cole’s words about being mind-fucked had stabbed straight into her gut.

  She stood, staring at Ryan—the man she would swear she loved, if she’d let herself admit it. Why she’d felt compelled by the young, handsome, wounded Cole Traynor, she had no idea. It made her sick to her stomach, but there it was, nonetheless.

  “Oh, I’m, um…shit. I didn’t mean to…” She gripped her elbows, willing Ryan to come to her, hold her and tell it was okay. Assure her that she had not taken utter advantage of a hot, blind guy just to prove something.

  “I don’t know what you think about him, Lynette, but he’s right. You can’t just jump him like that. It’s not how it…” He looked down. “Just leave him alone, okay? I won’t bring it up again. He can’t…he won’t…we shouldn’t do this.” He turned and headed for the stairwell.

  She dropped into the chair Cole had vacated, still feeling him beneath her, still tasting his lips. Tears pressed against her eyes, but she forced them back. No crying. She was not going to cry over this. She needed to gather her wits, to process her thoughts, to sort through why she’d done what she’d done.

  He’d been focusing and doing his job, while she’d attempted to help by relaying what was on the screen so he could figure out how to fix it. All the while she hadn’t been able to take her eyes off him. His shoulders were broad, not quite as a wide span as Ryan’s but compact, suitable to his shorter frame. And the soft gray Marine T-shirt had highlighted his biceps and the obvious fit condition of his torso. She’d sat, staring at him, loving the heat of his proximity even while he’d cursed and hollered at her to give him every detail of the messages on the recalcitrant computer screen.

  His thick golden hair had grown even more. It brushed his neck, with a slight curl at the end. His dark stubbled jaw had begged for her fingers. He’d bitten his lip, working the computer keyboard quickly and efficiently. She’d kept reaching for him then retreating, reconsidering her every move. The dog had kept his eyes on her, ever his master’s guardian, but hadn’t growled at her.

  When she hadn’t been able to stand it another second, she’d moved without any thought involved, taken off his sunglasses and kissed him. She’d been determined only to taste, to try, to let him know how she felt, but the whole scene had progressed and she’d found herself stroking him, unable to get enough. She blushed with the memory and her skin prickled in every spot where he’d touched her.

  She got up and started pacing, running her hands through her hair. She wasn’t trying to mess with him, no matter what either man thought. She wanted him. More than she’d wanted anything. Catch was—she wanted Ryan, too, and not just for a fuck buddy anymore. Their hours together at work and outside it had become so comfortable she’d lie awake most nights watching him sleep or, if she were home alone, wishing she were watching him sleep.

  Ugh. What a fucking mess you’ve made, Lynette. And now, you’ve potentially screwed up what you thought you had with Ryan because all up with your horny bullshit.

  She sat, but would not allow herself a cry—that was one thing she would not do. No man was worth her tears—of that she was certain and she’d made that particular vow to herself years ago. She was not about to break it now no matter how tempting it may be. She rose, turned out the office lights and headed downstairs, wondering just how she could face Ryan the next day, or Cole, ever again.

  * * * *

  Ryan tried not to think, attempting to let his emotions lead him, while Cole clutched at his shoulders over the truck’s console, a desperation to his movements that Ryan recognized at once. He pulled away, swallowed hard, then got out of the truck. Cole met him halfway before he made it around to the other side, shoving him back against the truck’s hood and forcing his lips open with his tongue, gripping his hair, his ass, everywhere he could.

  Ryan groaned and pulled away. He held the other man’s shoulders, keeping his focus on Cole’s face. Once he had a modicum of control, he lifted off Cole’s sunglasses. “Relax. It’s okay. It’s fine. I’m sorry. She…I…well, that was sort of my fault back there.”

  “What?” Cole’s hands shook when he ran them through his hair. Ryan cursed himself for the millionth time for putting this vulnerable man in such a difficult position. He should walk away from it—from Lynette, for whom his feelings were becoming complex enough to terrify him—from Cole, whose very presence right now brought out urges Ryan had to fight with every ounce of his willpower. He was going to ruin everything if he didn’t watch it and bring two innocent people along for his selfish ride.

  He held Cole at arm’s length. “I planted the idea with her, about you. I could tell you guys had a moment on the dance floor at the reception and, um, well, I told her I thought it was kind of hot. And she’s sort of a sex convert these days.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” Cole leaned next to him, shivering in the cold night air.

  Ryan took a breath and leaped into the void, hoping like hell Lynette wouldn’t kill him for what he was about to reveal. “Lynette was what you might call repressed. Sexually speaking. She didn’t have bad
experiences. Just no good ones, and after a while didn’t seek them out. She worked, went to school and worked, in that order. Dating and sex and relationships weren’t on her agenda.”

  “Yeah, and you were just the guy to help her out with that, I take it.”

  “Apparently.” Ryan took a deep breath. “You make me sound like I’m some kind of predator, but I assure you it was mutual. She needed, I needed, we both give and get. And it’s…well, it’s nice.”

  “Super. I’m happy for you guys. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Cole gripped the dog’s lead and started to push away from the truck.

  Ryan grabbed his hand. “Wait. Cole, I need you to hear this. Don’t judge her. She’s not trying to fuck with your mind, I swear it.” Cole held out his hand. Ryan handed him the Ray-Bans. “I want you to know. I would, I mean, I’d like…oh hell.” He relinquished his wavering self-control and tugged the man close, kissing him long and deep, making them both breathless in the near dawn of a freezing Saturday morning.

  Cole pulled away, reached down and cupped Ryan’s erection. “Yeah, I know what you want. I can tell what you’d like. But I don’t, okay. It’s too much for me. I don’t want…her. I mean, I can’t.” This last was choked out, making Ryan frown at the emotion he heard in Cole’s voice.

  “I think you do.” He ran a finger across Cole’s cheek. “And I don’t blame you. She is the most amazing woman on the planet, hands down, period, end of story. And our relationship isn’t about love. More about friendship and, um, mutual satisfaction, I guess. So, if you change your mind…”

  Cole planted his feet and poked a finger into Ryan’s chest. “That is the dumbest, most asinine horse shit I have ever heard. If you actually think that about her is one thing, but to let it pass your lips like you really mean it? You disappoint me, Shannon. And don’t worry. I won’t change my mind.” Cole’s stomped up the steps to his house. Ryan watched him go, a bright burst of possibility making his knees weak. He grabbed his phone and sent a quick text to Lynette without even thinking.

  It’s okay. He’s fine. I’m fine. Get some sleep. Let’s talk about next steps.

  Later, giving up on sleep, he sat sipping coffee in his kitchen, thinking about what Cole had said and picturing Lynette for the rest of the morning. He dragged himself up and into the car, needing to pick Jamie up from his mother’s where he’d left him in the middle of the night to deal with the emergency. One look at his son’s face and hearing his happy declarations when he jumped into Ryan’s arms smoothed his rattled nerves and gave him fresh resolve.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Cole’s hands shook and his face burned, but the rest of him was ready. More than ready—he was locked and loaded and needed to fuck something. Bad. That was the sum total of this little adventure, he repeated in his head for the thousandth time—fucking, screwing, getting off, pure and simple, nothing more. And he deserved it, every last breathless, pleasant minute of it.

  The room was chilly, but it felt good against his skin. He reached down, but the dog wasn’t there. A small thrill of panic lit the base of his spine. He couldn’t get anywhere without the animal. He held out a hand, started to open his mouth, to ask for a ride home, suddenly not ready anymore. He replayed the last few days in his head, still not believing he’d experienced it.

  Lynette had come to his house two days ago, just shown up on his porch uninvited. They’d sat outside in the cold—she’d refused to come in—and talked for what felt like hours. She’d given him her side of the ‘Ryan is my fuck buddy’ story and he still hadn’t bought it. But she’d gotten him talking, too, about Jake and how he wasn’t involved with him sexually anymore because that just felt cheap and crappy.

  He’d asked her point blank about the ‘sex convert’ stuff Ryan had alluded to and she’d confirmed it. Her heart had pounded like a kick drum whenever she talked about Ryan. Cole had known her emotions were ruling her, and he’d cursed Ryan all over again for being such a blind shithead to the whole thing.

  Cole had told her about the professor, about the few women he’d been with and a little about Dan. But that subject remained a fresh wound he’d refused to prod too deeply.

  She’d stood, given him a soft hug and brush of her lips to his jaw. ‘I’m sorry for jumping you like that in the office. But I’d love it if you could consider my—our—offer. We won’t do anything you don’t want to. But honestly, Cole, I—we—feel strongly about you and want you to be happy.’

  ‘And you think engaging in a three-way with you and Ryan Shannon will accomplish that?’ He’d hated the sound of his own voice right then.

  ‘Well, yes.’

  He’d sensed her move away from him. Anger, combined with no small amount of lust, had rolled around in his gut. ‘I don’t do girls, not anymore,’ he’d declared, his hand gripping the chair back.

  ‘I’m not asking you to do girls, Cole,’ she’d said from a few feet away. ‘I’m inviting you to make love to me and Ryan together. But I understand if you’d rather not.’

  And now, here he was. Cole lifted his face and let a breeze cool his burning face. And then he sensed her nearby. No, right next to him. Her hand took his and her lips pressed against his jaw. He tensed, a sudden flight reaction prickling his nerve endings. He pulled away from her, turned and stumbled against some random stupid piece of furniture. “Where is my dog?” he demanded, regaining his footing before he landed on his ass. “Goddamn it, Ryan, get me out of here.”

  Silence met his ears. Silence tinged with a distant, pounding heartbeat. He put his hands on his hips. “Sorry,” he said for the millionth time. “I thought I was ready for this. I’m obviously not. I should go.”

  He turned and Lynette was there, filling his nose with the sweet essence of her, his arms with the light, perfect sensation of her. He tried not to respond, attempted to stop the rushing blood in his ears and the straining behind his zipper.

  “Shh,” she said, her lips close to his. Her cool palms stroked his face. He clenched his jaw, but her lips trailed along there, loosening it despite his determination not to allow it. “It’s okay. Relax.”

  He put his hand on her hips, ready to push her away, to end this stupid setup or seduction scene or whatever the hell it was. It was starting to irritate him, all this effort for a simple physical act. One he was more than ready to perform granted but unable to justify all of a sudden.

  When he heard music waft in from somewhere, he leaned down and touched his lips to her bare shoulder, shivering when he wrapped his mind around the fact that she was totally naked. Now that she was closer, he smelled her, all of her—the honey of her skin, the spicy tang of her need just below that. “You should know something about me,” he muttered, his lips near her flesh.

  She ran her hands down his front, unbuttoning his shirt slowly, delectably, pressing her lips against every inch of skin that she bared. “Uh-huh, what’s that?” she asked when her fingers reached his belt, unbuckling and unzipping and undressing him in slow, careful movements. He grabbed her hands when she reached for his straining boxer shorts. She stopped and stepped away, taking her tantalizing scent with her.

  “I’m not into this because of you. I want…I need to see…I mean, try…I’m…oh dear Lord, just come back over here, would ya?”

  His brain shut down when she molded her soft, lithe form into his. He ran his hands down her back, her ass, then back up, adoring the feel of her, the sensation of her breasts pressed against him, the distinct warmth between her legs. He licked his lips. “I’ll bet you taste just like you smell. Like honey, heavenly.” His voice was rough, his entire body a raw nerve ending.

  “She does.” Ryan’s voice rolled through him. He felt the man’s hand on his shoulder, trailing down his back to his ass. “And one of her favorite ways to come is at the end of your tongue.”

  Lynette made her little moan and sigh, and Cole sensed Ryan’s hand low, touching her, stroking her sex. Her chemistry changed then. He smelled it, felt it in his arms when she mo
ved, arching her back and making that intense noise down in her throat. He sucked in a ragged breath.

  Was he ready for this? Did he want…her? Or was he just humoring Ryan because he wanted him so badly he would sometimes wake up crying out the man’s name in the night?

  And now, he was here, too. Ryan’s hard, masculine body pressed to his back, the soft, voluptuous curves of Lynette at his front. “Feel her,” Ryan whispered into Cole’s ear. “Like this.” He took Cole’s hand, placed it between her legs. Raw lust curled up in his brain, nestling in for the long haul. He groaned, leaned into kiss her, sweeping into her mouth with a firm thrust of his tongue when his and Ryan’s fingers found the hard flesh of her clit.

  “Keep stroking her there,” Ryan said, his other hand now gripping Cole’s cock. Cole didn’t know if he was coming or going—was the giver or receiver of pleasure. “Relax, Cole. Don’t think about it. Just feel,” Ryan commanded, biting his earlobe. He ground his long shaft against the cleft of Cole’s ass.

  “Jesus,” Cole muttered, running his lips down the sleek line of Lynette’s neck. She wrapped her arms around him, held on tight when he stroked her then slid deeper, the velvety folds of her body pulling him, calling to him. The grip of her sex around his finger was tight, different from what he was used to but one of the most erotic things he’d felt in a while.

  “Cole,” she whispered, shuddering into him and lifting a leg around his waist. Ryan grabbed it, held on to her, keeping his delicious friction up and down Cole’s cock. “Make me come…ah…” She tensed, then he felt it—the pulse and spasm of her on and around his hand. “Yes…” she hissed, arching her back and angling her hips closer.

  “Lovely Lynette,” Ryan muttered. He dropped her leg and stepped back from Cole, leaving him cold, bereft and throbbing with unmet need. He put his trembling hand to his lips and sighed with satisfaction at the taste of her on his fingers.