Dreamspinner Press Year Seven Greatest Hits

by K. C. Wells

  “No. It’s a kitchen floor. It’s got a good seal on it in case of accidents like that.”

  Somehow hearing I hadn’t caused irreparable damage to his home lifted my spirits. I looked up, into concerned eyes that threatened to swallow me whole. He seemed worried that he’d done something to me, when I was the idiot who’d spilled water on the floor. More than the concern was the impression that he wasn’t judging me at all. Just trying to understand.

  “Thank you for dinner,” I said, “but I really think I should go. I’ve embarrassed myself enough for one night.”

  “Why are you embarrassed?”

  I stared. “Have you forgotten the last five minutes, because I haven’t?”

  “Cole—”

  “Please, Jeremy. I need to go.”

  He frowned, lips pressing hard together. “Want me to drive you?”

  “I can walk.”

  “It’s dark.”

  “It’s fine.”

  I hung the damp towel over the edge of the dish drainer and put the scrub brush into the Celtics coffee mug that served as its holder. Jeremy followed me downstairs and watched, silent and unhappy, as I shrugged into my coat. I couldn’t shake the sense of a missed opportunity here. I also couldn’t shake the shame I still felt over my reaction upstairs. Now that he knew how jumpy and neurotic I was, keeping our relationship business-only was the best thing for both of us.

  “What time should I pick you up tomorrow?” he asked.

  “Whenever’s convenient.” I cursed this tiny town and its lack of taxi services. Relying on him for rides until Monday was going to be hell.

  “Seven thirty?”

  “Okay. See you in the morning.”

  He held the door, and I slipped out into the night, never more grateful for the cover of darkness than I was now. The air was biting cold, and it chilled the heat still flaming my cheeks. Tonight had been a complete disaster.

  So why did I still feel a strange sense of hope when I thought of seeing Jeremy tomorrow?

  Chapter Six

  I MADE it back to my motel room around eight. The long walk had me in a sweat, so I shucked my coat and sweater, leaving just my jeans and undershirt. I flopped onto the bed and turned on the television to watch whatever passed for primetime TV these days. Anything to not think about my final conversation with Jeremy. I didn’t want to analyze my reactions or his. I wanted the entire incident to have never happened, and for everything to rewind to yesterday… no, make that two days ago, before I ever set foot in his house.

  I’d so wanted this entire cleanup process to be simple and fast, but fate seemed to be making everything far more complicated than necessary.

  As I relaxed and my eyes started to droop, my cell phone rang and startled me awake. I fished it out of my coat pocket and nearly dropped the phone. Why on earth was Jeremy calling me?

  “Hello?” I said.

  “Hey. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

  “Not really.”

  “Good. I wanted to call first so I didn’t scare you.”

  “Scare me how?”

  “I’m about to knock on your door.”

  “Huh?”

  Jeremy hung up before I could clarify that he meant this door, right now. Knuckles banged against the center of the door twice. I stared at it. It took me three tries to get my engine going and cross the five feet between me and the door. I peeked through the peep hole and sure enough, Jeremy was standing on my doorstep with a brown paper bag in his hands. He was staring right at the door, like he knew I was watching him.

  Crap. The lights were on, probably visible through the drawn curtains, and he had to have heard the television over the phone. I couldn’t pretend to be out.

  Positive this was the world’s worst idea, I pulled off the chain, turned the deadbolt, checked the eye hole once more, and then opened the door. A blast of cold hair hit my bare arms and face, and I shivered. Jeremy smiled, seemingly unbothered by the chill or his unzipped jacket.

  “You left before we could have dessert,” he said. He gave the paper bag a gentle shake, and I spotted the Sow’s Ear logo on it.

  “Oh.” I had no idea what to say, having given no prior consideration to the notion that he’d show up unexpectedly with food.

  “Can I come in? You’re heating the whole outdoors.”

  “Yes, sorry.” I stepped aside, and after I shut the door, I turned the deadbolt and slid the chain. When I turned around, Jeremy was giving me a quizzical look. “Habit. I can undo them.”

  “Not if you’re more comfortable locked in.”

  I wasn’t sure how I felt about being locked in with Jeremy, but I definitely preferred the locks when the outside world (and everyone else in it) was just on the other side of that slab of cheap particle board. “You could have called before you came all the way over here with dessert.”

  “I could have.” He put the bag on the end of the bed, then shrugged out of his coat. “Truthfully, dessert’s an excuse. I didn’t like the way things ended at my house, and I wanted to come over here and clear the air. Make sure there are no misunderstandings between us.”

  “Okay.”

  He put his coat down next to the bag as he turned to face me. Hands loose by his sides, they twitched as though he’d rather cross his arms or shove them into his pockets. He was nervous. Knowing that helped me relax a little bit when it should have done the exact opposite.

  “You saw the magazine,” he said.

  He hadn’t posed it as a question, but I replied anyway. “I did. I shouldn’t have looked at your mail.”

  “I did leave it out on purpose.”

  “Kinda figured that.” I just wasn’t clear on why, and an explanation definitely seemed to be next on the docket. I waited for him to say more, only he seemed to be waiting for me to say something. So neither one of us spoke for what felt like forever. We just kind of stared at each other, like an unofficial “loser blinks first” challenge.

  Jeremy blinked. “I’m screwing this up all over the place, aren’t I? It’s been a while.”

  “A while since what?”

  His hands clenched and released, clenched and released, several times in a row. I watched the movements, habitually wary, and he realized what he’d been doing. He shoved both hands into the rear pockets of his jeans, which changed his posture into one of uncertain shyness. It made him look incredibly adorable.

  “It’s been a while since I’ve been attracted to a guy,” Jeremy replied finally. “Attracted enough to do anything about it.”

  Something in the answer struck me as slightly off, and it wasn’t the admission that he was attracted to me. Hell, if I was honest with myself, I’d been attracted to him since the moment we met. He was kind, funny, honest, and he was unconventionally attractive. Only I wasn’t—

  “I know you’ve said several times you aren’t keeping any roots here,” Jeremy continued, “but I had to put this on the table, especially since we’re going to be working together a while yet.”

  He’d just turned a big spotlight onto the two reasons why this was a very bad idea: I was leaving as soon as the house and property were sold, and we had to work together until that happened. The latter might actually be more enjoyable if it came with the benefits of a little sexual release, but there was nothing to be done about the former. I couldn’t stay in Franklin. It would be too easy for Martin to find me here, and bad childhood memories existed on every street corner.

  Not that Franklin had very many street corners—another reason I didn’t want to stay. I needed the anonymity of a big city, a chance to blend in and not be noticed for a while. I couldn’t have that in Franklin.

  “Cole?”

  “Huh?” Had he been speaking?

  “You haven’t said anything.”

  “You haven’t put anything on the table.”

  His eyebrows jumped at the challenge in my words. He cleared his throat and rocked back on his heels, contemplating something. I expected words, some kind of decl
aration or explanation. Instead, he closed the four steps between us, slid one hand around my neck, and then kissed me.

  The kiss caught me off guard, and I didn’t move right away. The gentle pressure of his lips against mine, as much a question as a statement, set loose a swarm of butterflies in my stomach, followed by a pleasant warmth much, much lower. A warmth I hadn’t felt in far too long and one that shattered my initial resistance. I angled my head and parted my lips just enough to invite him in, and he came, deepening the kiss. The hand on my neck pressed harder, keeping our seeking mouths together even though I had no intention of stopping.

  His tongue licked at my lips, teasing without taking. I grabbed a fistful of his shirt and held tight, afraid this tender kiss was all a dream and I’d wake up if I let go. I opened for him, and his tongue lazily crept into my mouth. He carried with him the faint flavor of sweet tea. I reversed the kiss, thrusting my tongue into his mouth, eager for more of that taste. Jeremy groaned, and his free hand looped around to press against the small of my back. We were moving, and I didn’t figure it out until his shoulders hit the wall with a solid thud and we both came up for air.

  He panted, moist breath cooling my damp mouth. I licked my lips, keenly aware of him letting me press him to the wall by the door, doing nothing but watching me with wide, lust-soft eyes. The warm stirrings in my groin became actual arousal, and that fact hit me like a fist to the chest—for the first time in two years, another man was getting me hard.

  A man with roots in a town I was just visiting.

  A charming man who looked just as pleasantly surprised as me about the intensity of our kiss. He gazed at me with determination in his eyes. “If you don’t want this, tell me now,” he said hoarsely. “And I’ll go, no hard feelings.”

  “I don’t want you to go,” I said, no hesitation. More than anything, I wanted him to stay. But despite my slowly thickening erection, the idea of shedding my clothes for Jeremy, of having sex with him, made my pulse race in a not-so-awesome way.

  “This is me, putting my cards on the table,” Jeremy said after a brief pause. “You gonna show me yours?”

  “My cards?”

  “I can see questions in your eyes, Cole. Ask me what you want to know.”

  Might as well. “Why did you say it’s been a long time since you’ve been attracted to a guy?”

  “Because it’s true.”

  “You’re a deliberate person, Jeremy, and—”

  “I’m bi.”

  I blinked, the statement not sinking in immediately. “Bisexual?”

  “Yes. I’m attracted to men and women. I love fucking, and I love being fucked. I was even briefly married to a woman, a long time ago.” A flash of pain darkened his eyes. “So what I said is true. It’s been a few years since I met a guy I’ve wanted to be with, and he’s you.”

  Married. To a woman. It seemed both perfectly reasonable and incredibly absurd. And the way he talked about fucking—I don’t think I’d heard him use crude words before, and it made my pulse jump. I didn’t know anyone else who was bi, and I didn’t understand being attracted to both men and women—I’d never wanted to be with a woman.

  Maybe I didn’t understand it, but so what? He was the same guy he’d been sixty seconds ago, and he’d just handed me a basketful of himself. He deserved some sort of gift in return.

  I untangled my hand from his shirt and stepped back. His expression darkened, probably assuming I was disgusted by his admission, until I took his hand and pulled him over to the side of the bed. I tugged him down to sit next to me, and he did, eyebrows furrowed, puzzled.

  “Before you ask, I don’t care that you’re bi,” I said. I mean, who was I to judge who someone else loved? “I’m not that guy, Jeremy.”

  Something in his face softened, but the puzzlement remained. “That’s good to know. But?”

  “No buts. It’s just….” In for a penny, in for a pound. “Two years ago, I got out of an unhealthy relationship that I’d stayed in for a long time. Hence all the jumpiness.”

  Jeremy nodded, his expression going fierce, protective. “Define unhealthy.”

  I hesitated, not wanting to go into any sort of verbal explanations of how Martin treated me when I “made him angry.” Not tonight. I reached over my head and tugged off my undershirt, shifting around as I did so. I knew the shape and length of all three scars that twisted their way along my left shoulder blade—a gift from a glass shower door. “Unhealthy,” I said flatly.

  Jeremy sucked in a sharp breath. The air moved, fabric rustled, and I tensed when he scooted up behind me. Shivered when his fingers brushed across the puckered skin, tracing the shapes of old wounds long since physically healed. Emotionally…. I was still working on that.

  “This is unforgivable.”

  My heart fluttered. “That I let it get to that?”

  “What? No!” Jeremy took my shoulders and gently turned me back around. The fierceness remained in his eyes, directed at a nameless enemy who’d left his mark in more ways than a good fuck could fix. Jeremy stroked the back of his knuckles down my cheek. “It’s unforgivable that anyone would hurt you.”

  Harsh words spat at me in the heat of Martin’s anger rushed back—why do you make me hurt you? “You don’t know me,” I said.

  “I know you well enough, Cole. No one deserves to be hit or cut up, not for any reason. Any man who does that is a fucking coward. And you’re all the stronger for surviving.”

  My resistance and tension melted at his words, leaving only burning desire in its place. I grabbed the hand resting on my shoulder and squeezed tight. Jeremy was the first person I’d told this much to—the first person I wasn’t paying to listen to me—and his reaction meant everything. Maybe I wasn’t broken after all.

  “We won’t do anything you don’t want to do,” Jeremy said. “I do something you don’t like, tell me and I’ll stop. I promise.”

  “Okay.”

  He pulled me gently to my feet, and our second kiss began as tentatively as the first. He seemed content to let me set the pace, for which I was insanely grateful. Curious to discover more than just the taste of his mouth, I dragged my lips across the light stubble of his jaw, tasting sweat and a hint of grease from dinner. His hands explored my arms and chest, warming bare skin and waking the nerves beneath. I tugged off his sweater, glad to see no shirt beneath.

  His pecs were smooth and slightly tanned, his build about the same as mine. A thin line of dark hair inched from his navel into the waist of his jeans, and I didn’t have to touch to know he was hard too. It had been so long since sucking cock was more than a chore to be performed daily, so long since I’d wanted to drop to my knees and take a man into my mouth. To feel him shoot down my throat.

  Jeremy sensed my indecisiveness. He unbuckled his belt and tossed it to the other side of the motel room. The familiar clank of the buckle striking the floor sent a chill worming down my spine. Then he undid his fly. I covered his hand, stopping him. He quirked an eyebrow. I sank to my knees, then pulled down the zipper, let his jeans fall down to his ankles, and helped him step out. I ran my fingers up his legs, which were covered in the same fine, dark hair, until they reached the edge of his tented boxers. I mouthed the shape of his erection, felt its heat even through the cotton. Jeremy sucked in a sharp breath and said something that might have been “fuck.”

  I hooked my fingers in the waistband of his boxers and pulled slowly, a bit at a time, like a kid opening a present inch by little inch. I uncovered a nest of dark hair first, thick and begging to be explored. And then the length of his cock, hard and straining, flushed a perfect shade of red. Not too long, not too thick, the head already glistening.

  The boxers puddled to the floor around his ankles, and he barely had time to kick them out of the way before I ran the flat of my tongue up the length of his shaft. He made a noise deep in his throat. I did it again, enjoying the sound and the sharp flavor of him—sweat and musk and male heat. I poked the tip of my tongue into hi
s slit, teasing now, until he said something that sounded like my name. A hand brushed the side of my head, above my left ear, a subtle hint.

  Sucking cock had always been my favorite part of sex. The only time I ever felt powerful, like I could make or break a man’s orgasm—even if that was never necessarily true, I could imagine it so. Imagine I controlled some aspect of my old sex life. I mentally shoved all thoughts of anything other than Jeremy and his gorgeous dick right out of my head. No time for that.

  Gripping the base of his shaft with my right hand, I took the head of his cock into my mouth and licked all around, using the flat and tip of my tongue alternately. I spat on my palm and slicked him up, easing the path of my fist as I jerked him while I sucked. Slowly I sank lower, taking more of him into my mouth with each stroke. Taking my cues from the noises he made, the way his fingers threaded into my hair, the tremors in his thighs. My senses filled with the taste of him, the smell of him, the sound of him, and I gathered it all up inside and held on tight.

  When my lips met my hand, I released my hold on his dick and caressed his balls while I went down the rest of the way. My gag reflex had deserted me years ago, and I stretched my neck to take him into my throat and swallowed. He shouted something, so I did it again. I pulled back, jaw aching a bit, and took in a good breath, then went back down. My own erection strained against my belly, demanding attention. In the back of my mind, I knew Jeremy wouldn’t care if I touched myself while I was pleasuring him.

  I still kept my hands to myself. Or rather, off myself and on Jeremy.

  “So close,” he said. The hand in my hair tightened just enough to mean it, but not sting or pull. “So close, oh God.”

  I went down again and took him all the way into my throat. Tears leaked from my eyes, my jaw ached, and I was a drooling mess, but I didn’t let up. I wanted this—needed this. To have him fall apart in front of me.

  And he did, so beautifully. The muscles in his legs and belly tensed. My scalp burned where his hand clenched. He made the most erotic sound I’d ever heard as he shot down my throat. I took it all, swallowing and sucking until he let go of me and stumbled back. His dick fell from my mouth with a lewd noise, and I rocked back on my heels, as high from his orgasm as he was. Jeremy sat down hard on the edge of the bed, face and chest flushed, breathing hard through his open mouth. His dark eyes shone with something I had no word for, and it made my insides squirm—good or bad, I had no idea.