Scars and Secrets (Loose Ends Book 1)

by Avril Ashton

  The man you’ve been loving in absentia…

  Those were the words that stuck with him the most, because as much as he and Pablo had shared nothing but sex, the guy knew Levi. Somehow, in some fucked up way, Pablo saw what Levi kept the blinders on to prevent noticing.

  The man you’ve been loving in absentia…

  He had his good days. Those were few and far between. The bad days. The bad days chewed him up and spat him out every fucking time. Izek kept him waking up and putting one foot in front of the other. If he didn’t have Izek…

  Levi didn’t know how he’d function.

  But Izek wasn’t here, not now. So Levi let himself fall for a minute, though he remained seated. There were times when the loneliness kept him frozen in place. When the fear of being hurt like he’d been hurt stayed any chance he would have taken at moving on. Before, in his other life, he’d had friends. He’d had someone to love, someone who loved him. Someone who stood side by side with him in the office of the Justice of the Peace with a mouth full of forevers.

  Levi never got that promised forever. For him that notion was just a temporary feel. For Van forever was just like trust, honesty, and till death. Words thrown around to placate and further an agenda while Levi had given everything. He’d meant every word.

  A mistake he won’t be caught making a second time.

  Banging on the door pulled him back to the here and now, and he hurried to get it. He pulled it only the tiniest fraction open, but just that was enough to have Levi jumping back from the door as though he’d been burned.

  No.

  A man stood there, a smirk on his face. “Well. Well. If it ain’t the prodigal husband.”

  That man.

  Everything in Levi shut down.

  “Levi!” Pablo appeared, running from the open elevator to Levi, who couldn’t fucking move. He just stood there and stared into those eyes.

  Torn.

  Between wanting to step into those more than capable arms, and beating that bastard to a bloody pulp with the nearby dining room chair.

  Torn.

  Between wanting to stay, and tucking tail and running. Hiding.

  “Hello. Again.” Pablo had sidled closer when Levi wasn’t looking and pointed a gun at Donovan’s head.

  Donovan didn’t flinch, nor did he turn his attention away from where Levi was glued to the fucking spot, unable to move. “Castillo,” he growled. “Your presence in my husband’s bed no longer comes at a surprise.”

  Levi took a step backward.

  “No.” Donovan lunged at him, caught Levi by the front of his t-shirt and yanked him to his body.

  Levi yelled and kicked out, trying to get away.

  “Let him go, man.”

  Donovan ignored Pablo, spinning them so Levi was the one facing Pablo’s gun, the one shielding Van.

  “So you’re here to what?” Pablo didn’t lower his weapon. “Hurt him? Punish him for his reaction to what you did to him?”

  “You shot me once, Castillo,” Donovan spoke softly, clearly. “I can promise you won’t live long enough to repeat that mistake.”

  “Why don’t you stick to making promises you can actually keep, huh?” Pablo winked.

  “Don’t.” Levi shook his head. “Pablo.” Panic sent a renewed surge of energy through Levi, sapping his control, and he resumed struggling. “Don’t do this. Don’t do this.” He didn’t know who those words were directed to, Pablo or the man holding him—his husband—but Levi repeated them over and over. He couldn’t hold on, couldn’t keep it up.

  Donovan was here, and Levi was losing it. Everything.

  All over again.

  “Let him go.” Pablo didn’t take his eyes off Donovan. “He’s the only innocent one out of the three of us.”

  Donovan chuckled. “Is that right?” His nose brushed Levi’s nape, making him shiver from that simple touch. “He thinks you’re innocent, babe. How is it he’s been fucking you and he still thinks that?”

  “Donovan.” Levi spoke the name for the first time out loud, and felt the tremor that went through the man at his back. He felt the infinitesimal tightening of Donovan’s arms, heard the stutter in his breathing. “Let me go.”

  “I will never let you go,” Donovan whispered. “I will let you fuck whoever you want. I might even allow you to walk away from me, thinking you’ve shaken me, but I will never let you go.”

  “How’d you get the code to the building?” Pablo asked.

  “Syren Rua is a fan of mine,” Donovan said against Levi’s neck.

  “J.P.!” Shane came running up, Mateo at his side. Together they came to an abrupt halt when they took in the scene before them.

  Shane narrowed his eyes, but Mateo just shook his head.

  “Fed done lost his motherfucking mind.”

  “Everybody needs to leave so I can speak to my husband,” Donovan said calmly. “I’ve got time. We can keep this pose forever, feel me?”

  He sounded the same, the man with the tightest grip on Levi. Voice so deep and heavy, it sank to the depths of Levi’s belly and settled. Stayed. But Donovan didn’t look the same. The man Levi had married didn’t have the lumberjack beard this version of Donovan Cintron sported. Didn’t have the bulk this one carried, and the all-or-nothing look in his eyes when he regarded at Levi.

  Mateo took a step forward.

  “Wait.” Levi took a deep breath. The time for running was gone. The cowardly stance had never been his thing, despite how much he wished it was. There were some things he needed, and maybe once he got them he could move on. Take a step past this man and what he’d done to bring Levi to his knees.

  He forced himself to glance over his shoulder, to meet Donovan’s eyes. “What’s your name?” He’d never been brave enough to ask that question, afraid that that, too, like everything else, would have been false.

  Made up.

  He needed this, suddenly desperate to find out if there’d been even one thing the man he’d married hadn’t lied about.

  He needed just one thing.

  Donovan’s hold on him loosened and his eyes went saucer-like briefly before being replaced by the angry sneer. “Donovan Mark Cintron.” Tender, he was tender there. The cadence of his voice, halting, as if finally realizing how much that response really mattered.

  But those words gave Levi something he hadn’t expected to claim. Relief so swift and magnified, it slammed his eyes shut. “I’ll talk to him,” he said.

  “You sure about that?” Mateo asked.

  Opening his eyes, Levi faced the others in the room. For a brief moment they’d faded to the background, noticeable as wallpaper. Par for the course whenever he and Donovan got in the same room. Used to be. Wasn’t supposed to be that way anymore. “Yeah.” He nodded to Mateo. Pablo watched him closely, but he didn’t speak. In fact, from that look in his eyes, Levi knew Pablo understood.

  On some level, his ex-lover got it.

  “Aight.” Pablo turned toward the door. “Let’s bounce.”

  Donovan’s hands remained on Levi, a heaviness he couldn’t ignore. So stunningly familiar, he couldn’t draw breath.

  Shane and Mateo left, but right before he disappeared out the door, Pablo glanced over his shoulder. “Levi calls me in fifteen minutes, and if you’ve hurt him in any way, I guarantee I’ll finish what my bullet started.” He smiled, a menacing gesture Levi had never seen on him before.

  Then his ex was gone. The door locked with a final click, and Levi was alone with him.

  Seven years he’d avoided this.

  All that running and hiding, and he was here where he’d never wanted to be again. He’d swore never to be here again. It shredded him how familiar it was, being here again.

  Alone with the stranger he’d married.

  Someday soon…

  Someday had arrived, and Levi wasn’t ready. No way.

  “Levi.”

  It was the same. Seven years later and the way that man said his name remained the same. He hated
it. Hated that his pulse kicked off at a gallop at the echo of his name from the bastard’s lips. And he hated the pull that warmed, stretched, arched between them, keeping him stuck and unable to say he was past it, past him. Past what used to make them them.

  It would be a lie.

  It sat there, on his chest. Stifling. Too much to ignore, to let go.

  He opened his mouth. Closed it. He coughed, swallowed then tried again with his back to Donovan. “Donovan, why are you here?”

  “You’re here.” Donovan’s voice moved, came closer.

  Levi tensed then spun around quickly. Sweet fucking Jesus. Donovan Cintron inches away, glaring at Levi. All boozy anger directed at Levi. “I’ve been lots of places,” he said. “Don’t recall you showing up there. What’s so special about here and now?”

  “Finally gathered the courage, I guess.” Donovan shrugged.

  But Levi couldn’t fucking focus. He was there. Massive. His Size. His voice. His presence. The effect he had on Levi.

  Massive.

  Seven years later, and it felt as new. The anger. The pain. “What do you want?”

  Donovan’s mouth curved, but his gaze was sad. “Ah Levi.” He stepped in close, close enough for Levi to smell his skin, his warmth, the booze on his breath. “What I want, all I want is here, right here.” Donovan pointed to where they stood. “I have waited seven fucking years to get what I want,” he spoke with such vehemence, so much emotion, Levi forgot to be on guard.

  He stood, transfixed, as Donovan stared down at him.

  “I want you.”

  “No.” The word was steady when Levi was not, loud and sharp enough to portray the calm Levi didn’t feel. But he’d gotten so good at pretending over the past seven years that he could say the word as though he meant it. “No. No.” He’d keep saying it, until Donovan heard it. Until he understood it, because it was a no, and it would always be a no. “I don’t care what you want. My life—the fucked up pieces you left when you blew my world apart—my life has no room for you.” He took a step past Donovan, but the other man grabbed his arm.

  Halting that quick retreat. Donovan’s arm went up around Levi’s neck as they stood side by side, facing opposite directions. A possessive hug. Not tight at all, but…

  Devastating.

  “No more running,” Van murmured at Levi’s ear. “You and I, we’re done running.” And he put his mouth on Levi’s neck. Lips on his skin.

  Dry lips. Shivers. Hot breath blasting, melting.

  Somebody made a sound. At first Levi thought it might him, he might be the one moaning at that contact, so sweet and filled with so much pain. He might be the one breathing hard, lungs working overtime to make up for the effort it took to do nothing other than feel what he’d been deprived of for seven whole years.

  For seven years’ worth of nights without this.

  Then that sound came again, this time reverberating up under his ear, bringing goosebumps to his skin and he realized maybe, just maybe Donovan might be the one making that haunting, mournful sound. Donovan might be the one finally getting his wish after seven years without. Donovan might be the one who’d stayed up late at night because he wouldn’t go to sleep without the brush of lips and the creep of fingertips across shoulder blades and down undulating spine.

  Donovan might be the one who knew what it felt like to be lost without this.

  Lips drawing shivers on his neck. Breath washing over sweat-slick skin and setting it ablaze.

  They stayed on him, those lips tripping Levi up. They stayed on him. And he wanted to move. Shift away. He wanted to brush it off, him off.

  Seven years.

  Roughest, toughest time of his life. Because of this man with his lips on Levi’s skin as though he was stuck there. Unable to move, shift away. Unable to break that contact. If he did, Levi would pull him back. Hold him there for as long as he could. Maybe as long as it took to wipe away the past seven years.

  “I am yours.”

  Those three words, he felt their every curve and formation on his skin. Felt them as they vibrated through him, breaking those chains that had him trapped. Levi jerked his head up and back.

  Donovan was right there. His mouth right there. So Levi took it. Mad quick.

  Stole it. That taste.

  Impossible to describe. Impossible to resist. Impossible.

  Mouths locked, lips parted, tongues twisted.

  Never was a simple kiss less simple. Never was Levi so hungry for it. Anger put a rush on it, turned it into something wild and fast and too fucked up to be anything romantic. Lust had him panting, reaching out to claw at Donovan’s chest.

  Push him away.

  No. Keep right where he was, on Levi’s tongue. On his taste buds. On his hit list, but on his fingertips too. The affect Donovan had on him. Levi pulled him close. For a second. Just for a second. He’d be angry again. Devastated again. But for this moment he hauled Donovan close, gasping at the hard lines of his body. The erection Levi couldn’t miss, a pulsing heat that matched his own. The muscles. The beard that scratched as they did that thing with their tongues where they ignored the shit burning down around them and got lost in each other.

  Every single time they touched they set shit on fire. He’d feared it, this reunion and for good reason. Nothing mattered when they were under each other’s fingertips. In each other’s mouths. On each other’s bodies.

  Nothing mattered.

  Levi jerked away. Panting, body wavering. Fighting desperately to pump the breaks.

  “Levi.” Donovan’s mouth was wet, eyes wild and filled with stunning yearning, cheeks flushed. Chest heaving too. Hands out, reaching for Levi who dodged it.

  “No.” What was left of Levi’s voice was a rough, shaky mess. “Don’t do this to me.” Fuck. Don’t make him feel it again. Don’t make him need it again. Don’t devastate him again. Don’t shatter him again. “Donovan. Don’t do this to me.”

  The man he’d married shook his head. “I’m not leaving, not this time.”

  Chapter Five

  Van stepped back, knees unsteady. His hard-on throbbed, needing more where that kiss came from. Nothing had changed. At least nothing about the way they affected each other. That much was clear, and he’d banked on the fire that raged when they got close. He’d known he’d lose his fucking mind when their bodies made contact. He hadn’t expected Levi to be the one to snatch that kiss as though he’d been sitting around all this time, just waiting for Van’s mouth to get close.

  But Van especially hadn’t expected that sucker-punch of a question Levi tossed at him right out the gate

  What’s your name?

  How could he not know? How could Levi not know Van’s name? How much had Van fucked up that that would be his husband’s first question after they hadn’t seen each other in seven years? He’d anticipated a tough fight. He hadn’t expected to lose before he’d even started.

  He finally allowed himself to really look at the other man. He’d lost weight, way leaner than he’d been the last time they’d been this close to each other. His dark brown hair was trimmed short, to less than an inch off his skull. The facial hair was gone, leaving with just a hint of a shadow on his jaw. His greenish-brown eyes, always expressive, were wide and haunted as he watched Van watch him. Still so gorgeous, with the tan of his Mexican heritage on his skin. Five years older than Van, forty looked good on Levi.

  He tasted like everything Van had expected. Felt even better.

  Over the years Van had thought about this, the next they’d meet.

  What he’d say. The words he’d use to apologize, to explain.

  The sight of Juan Pablo Castillo exiting the building tossed all Van’s good intentions away, and now he wanted to hurt Levi as badly and as brutally as he was hurting.

  “You upgraded,” he said. “Left a liar and got in bed with a killer.”

  Levi’s eyes flashed. “Your words would hurt,” he said huskily. “If I cared what you thought.” He shrugged. “I don’
t.”

  Lifting a hand, Van smirked when Levi stiffened. He touched the other man’s face, gliding his knuckles over Van’s cheek and jaw, struggling to hide how that felt. Skin to skin contact when Van had been starving for it. Took everything not to wrap himself all around Levi, smell him. Touch him. Van’s memories of Levi’s touch was depleted, and this man had everything he yearned for, everything he’d been missing for seven years. “Never took you for the selfish kind.”

  Levi jerked away from him, but Van didn’t let him get far. He grabbed Levi’s arm, holding him still despite the glare Levi tossed at him. He had to touch. Their skin had to remain in contact, otherwise he’d fall apart.

  Right there, right now. At the foot of the man he’d die for, Van would fall apart.

  “You’re not walking away. Not now. You owe me that fucking much.”

  Levi cocked his head and smiled, but it was a sad gesture. Broken. Just this shade of shattered. “I owe you that? And what else, maybe an apology while I’m at it? Because I was the one to come into our relationship under false pretenses? I recorded all our conversations—three years’ worth?” Levi closed the distance between them and tilted his chin so they could be nose to nose when he said, “I was the one who put cameras in our home, even our bedroom, so Dutch and your friends could see you fuck me? I was the one to violate our home, our privacy and Gia’s privacy?”

  “Levi—”

  “Is all that on me?” Nostrils flaring, Levi touched his own chest. “If it is, I’ll have to apologize, right? Beg for your forgiveness. Hope you forgive me. One day. Someday.” He closed his eyes for a second then opened them to peer into Van’s face, his eyes. Gazes locked, Levi asked, “What happens if you’re the one who lied, stole, and violated? What happens if you’re the reason my best friend is dead, someone you claimed you loved just as much as I did? What happens if you’re the reason my son—”

  “Our son.”

  “Grows up without knowing the amazing woman who gave birth to him? Does the same rule apply for you, Donovan Cintron? Will you beg for my forgiveness and hope I give it, one day? Someday?”