by Cara Dee
Henry nodded, leading the way to the hostess’s corner right on the edge by the beach. “He’d spent some time traveling Europe and Asia before starting school.” He paused to greet the hostess, and I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised she knew him by name. She even indicated that Henry and Martin had a standing reservation and private table. On the way to the outdoor patio, which was literally canvases and clinging greenery over beach sand, Henry put his hand on the small of my back. “Anyway.” He lowered his voice slightly. “I was late for my first class, not to mention completely lost, and I wasn’t watching where I was going.” Now I could see where he was heading, and I grinned. “I slammed into him and dropped my books, simultaneously cursing ‘Fuck me’ in a loud voice.”
“What did he say?” I laughed.
There was another pause as we reached our table. Martin and the Joseph guy weren’t here yet, so the round corner table that seated four was all for us. Henry pulled out a chair for me, which was fucking sweet. Then he sat down next to me, and the hostess said a waiter would be with us shortly.
I placed my sunglasses on the table.
“He said, ‘Name a time and a place, but for God’s sake, don’t announce it in front of the entire class.’ That was when I noticed I’d stumbled into him right outside a lecture hall full of students, and of course, they’d all heard me.”
Elbow on the table, chin resting in my palm, I laughed behind my fingers and admitted that would’ve made me turn a hundred shades of red.
“Oh, believe me,” he chuckled, “I was beyond mortified.” He smiled and tucked his shades into the chest pocket of his T-shirt. “That’s Martin for you. It took him eight months to get me to admit I was into men, and the following summer, he brought me home with him to his parents in Silver Lake. It was the first time I visited Los Angeles.”
I watched him—more like gazed at him—and realized I was head over heels in crush with him. It only made me smile, and I wouldn’t change a thing. He was in my head and definitely crawling his way under my skin, and I fucking loved it. He was a great man to be infatuated with, wasn’t he? He’d had his own little smile playing on his perfect lips since we woke up, and the hazel in his eyes seemed almost brighter. Out in broad daylight and sitting so close, I detected flecks of gold and green, and the hints of silver in his scruff were so sexy.
I couldn’t wait to get to know him better.
Our waiter arrived at the same time as Martin did, and another man followed. Joseph was around Martin’s height and dark-blondish, had a great build, and the most charming grin. It was dimpled and everything. His eyes were blue and framed by lashes long enough for me to pay extra notice.
“You must be Zach.” He extended his hand, and as I shook it, he leaned down and kissed my cheek. Well, all right, then. “Martin wouldn’t shut up about you in the car.”
“Oh,” was my dumbfounded response.
He moved on to exchange a hug with Henry while Martin prattled off drink orders to the waiter.
“Um, orange juice for me, please,” I cut in.
Martin raised a brow and sat down. “Dear, you really need to try the Bloody Mary here. At the very least, their mimosa.”
“I already tried,” Henry said with a wink my way. Then he faced Martin and Joseph. “If you arrived together, it means you stayed in Santa Monica last night, Martin.”
“He called me at ten and told me to fetch him.” Joseph smirked wryly and unbuttoned the top button of his dark blue shirt. I’d spotted black slacks on him, making me wonder where Martin had gone wrong. Joseph’s blue gaze landed on me next. “How was your first night out? I would’ve joined you guys if someone had bothered calling me.” I could only describe the look he sent Martin and Henry as bitchy.
“Won’t happen again.” Henry patted Joseph’s hand on the table.
“It was good,” I said.
“Good?” Martin looked at me in disbelief. “Honey, you were on fire on the dance floor. I had to fan myself more than once watching you. You have moves.”
My face felt hotter.
“Then you found comfort in the arms of…what was his name?” Henry leaned back, amused, and draped an arm along the back of my chair. I sure liked that bit.
“Michael,” Martin sighed dreamily. “Precious cub, that one.”
While he went on about Michael’s attributes and stamina, Henry silently slid me a menu, reminding me we were here to eat. I flipped it open and swallowed at the sight of the prices. Stop it. Enjoy yourself. It’s vacation. And that salmon sounded so good with eggs Benedict…
“You won’t regret that one.” Henry’s murmur was followed by his chin resting on my shoulder, though it lasted only a second or two, as if he caught himself. We were in public and hadn’t discussed our status, no matter how temporary it was. And shit, that was the last thing I wanted to think about.
“What’re you getting?” I kept my voice down and scratched my neck.
“I woke up with a sweet tooth. Waffles for me.” He sent me a predatory look and a knowing little smirk. He was saying it was my fault he wanted something sweet. “The energy will do me good too.”
I coughed lightly and looked away, over my shoulder, to hide my grin. The beach was right there, past a few rows of beach chairs.
“Martin, what on earth are you doing?” Henry’s question made me face the table again. My brows shot up, ’cause Martin was holding his hands apart, clearly demonstrating the length and girth of something.
In the meantime, Joseph was watching me. His calculating gaze had me sitting straighter. What was he doing? Did I have something on my face? No, he was observing. His mouth twitched, and I lowered my eyes. Had he caught on? Could he tell there was something between Henry and me?
My buzzing phone saved me from the strange tension, and I checked it while Henry and Martin bickered the way they did. It wasn’t a message as I’d expected, though. It was an alert telling me I’d been tagged in something on Instagram.
Then my face was split in half by my half-embarrassed smile. It was the woman from last night, Teresa. She’d uploaded the selfie of the two of us, captioning a series of pictures “Wild Bachelorettes and Bitches.” Shit, I really was giving that camera attitude. I didn’t look like myself, or like anything I’d ever felt. My eyes flashed with heat, alcohol, and joy in the photo, and my smirk was cocky. With glitter streaking my cheek.
I brushed my fingers over my cheek and clicked the love button. Next, I screencapped the photo so I could save it.
“What has you blushing?” Henry murmured as our drinks arrived.
I showed him the screen. The first picture in the series was of her dancing with her friends, the second was of her and me, and a few more followed. Champagne, wide smiles, laughter, and kisses with her girlfriends.
“My God, you belong in a magazine.” Henry’s quiet words caused my face to flame even hotter.
“What’re you looking at?” Martin demanded. “Don’t hold out on me.”
He and Joseph had my phone for a minute after that, and I grabbed Henry’s hand under the table and put it on my thigh. I just needed some contact. Actually, I needed a whole lot more than that, but a hand on my leg would suffice for now. My blood was rushing in my veins from seeing that photo, and I wondered if they’d understand. This was huge for me. The man in the picture was so new; he was brazen, cool, and ready to live life.
“You’re coming out with a bang, darling.” Martin fanned himself and flashed me a wink.
I chuckled self-consciously.
“Gorgeous,” Joseph agreed.
Under the table, Henry’s hand traveled higher until he stroked my junk and applied enough pressure for me to gulp. I pocketed my phone again and did my best not to let my eyes flutter closed. His hand was gone—or in a more brunch-appropriate location on my knee, but the lust wouldn’t fade.
That morning, I had brunch on a beach in Malibu with three beautiful gay men and a fucking hard-on.
“You’re a horrible bu
siness owner.” I stretched out on the bed and exhaled a clever unff as Henry dropped a kiss to my happy trail. “God…” As glorious as brunch had been, this was better. This was how I cured my hangover. With naps and cuddles.
“I’m not arguing, but what makes you say that?” He hooked two fingers into my boxer briefs and pulled them down.
I lolled my head along the pillow, lazy and full, and wove my fingers into his hair. “Your store is open, but here you are, almost naked in bed with me. And about that, you should lose the underwear.”
He kneeled between my legs, his sculpted thighs calling my name. They were just so damn perfect.
“The bookstore isn’t my income. It’s my hobby—and my accountant’s migraine.” He lost the boxers, and I wet my bottom lip as I stared at his cock. Last night, I hadn’t really gotten a good look. “I invest.”
I should’ve known. He’d been an investment banker and all.
“In what?” I sat up and trailed my hands up his thighs. “Can you lie down? I wanna touch you.”
He let out a breath, his semi-erection thickening. Staring at him made my mouth water. Then I had him on his back in the middle of the bed, and I repeated my question about investing. Even his spectacular body couldn’t distract me from getting to know him.
“Real estate and small-business ventures.” He placed one arm under his head and eyed me with a deep-seated hunger. “You are a beautiful man, Zachary.”
“So are you.” I grinned and swung a leg over him, my hands landing on his chest for support. “If I were to invest in something, what should I go with?”
He lifted his brows, then hummed and thought about it. “What do you do?”
“Nothing worth anything.” I freely admitted to myself that I felt lacking. “I have a corner store in Camas.” Mentioning that part of Camassia was all that was needed for him to understand my financial situation. Working class would’ve been an upgrade. “I want more,” I said, exploring his chest with my fingertips. “What you and Martin have built, I want that—”
“Do keep in mind I’m almost twenty years your senior,” he pointed out. “I was also born into wealth.”
Maybe I was a little impatient now that I was finally getting a taste of something else.
His expression softened. “Tell me about your family. You mentioned your father left you.”
“Not much to tell.” I lifted a shoulder and half regretted bringing this up. “It’s me, my brother, and my grandmother.”
“What happened to your mother?”
Now I definitely regretted it. “Suicide.” Lowering my head, I pressed a kiss to his sternum and breathed him in. There was an undercurrent of excitement that’d been pulsing through me since leaving the bar last night, each pulse whispering you’re with a man, you’re with a man, you’re with a man. I wanted to explore sex and Henry’s body until it bordered on worship. Actually, worship sounded great too.
“I’m sorry.” Henry cupped the back of my neck and lifted his head to kiss my hair. “How old were you?”
When I found my mother’s body hanging from a rope in the ceiling in the garage? “Eighteen.” The week after my birthday, to be exact. “She’d been waiting until I was legal so I could take care of Mattie.”
“Jesus,” he whispered. “Come here.”
He turned us on our sides, and I grew uncomfortable. Irritated. I didn’t need the consoling, but most of all, I cursed my stupid mouth. I should’ve kept it shut. The life I’d known for twenty-seven years had no business intruding on my vacation.
When Henry asked careful questions about my past, I answered on autopilot in a monotone voice. Why did she…? Because she was sick. She’d battled depression for as long as I could remember. You were so young. Meh. I’d been taking care of Mattie for years already. My childhood had consisted of the highest highs and lowest lows. I’d lived the meaning of walking on eggshells, never knowing when I woke up in the morning what state I’d find Mom in. Did she not get help? I guess…it just never worked for long. She’d self-medicated for most of it. Booze, uppers, downers.
“I have some amazing memories too.” I looked up, searching his eyes. Relief hit me when I didn’t see pity. If anything, he radiated compassion and empathy. “My grandfather on my mom’s side was pretty well-off. He used to own a chain of stores, and sometimes, Nan and Mom would sneak us out on adventures.” Mattie probably didn’t remember those. “We’d go camping or go to a hotel in Vancouver or Seattle and eat our body weight in dessert before dinner.”
Henry said nothing. He only stroked my cheek and pressed soft kisses to my face every now and then.
“He was grumpy as fuck,” I said. “My gramps, I mean. We lived in the same town and rarely saw each other. Nan would flip him off behind his back.”
He chuckled quietly.
Henry had more questions, and I resigned myself to ramble just to get it out of the way. My whole point of this trip—uh, other than finding Henry for Ty’s sake—was to get away. Start fresh, see what was out there, and explore. So dragging up my past was no fun. However, I wanted the same from Henry, so I suffered through my own shit first.
Did okay in school but couldn’t afford college—plus I had Mattie. Didn’t date a whole lot but got on the girl wagon when I was around nineteen. It was easy, and to this day, I was sure I’d loved my first girlfriend, Meghan. Then she moved to Seattle for college. When she returned, friendship felt more natural.
When he asked about Nan, it got marginally easier. She was a hoot, and she’d always done as much as she could for Mattie and me. She moved in with us after Mom killed herself, though it was cramped. Her health was getting poor too, so it didn’t last long. Gramps had kicked the bucket years prior, and all stores but one had been sold off. It left us enough money to get her into a decent home, and we could afford to let Mattie play lacrosse until he got bored with that.
“Nan’s the loudest cheerer,” I said. “He was good when he played, and not even osteoporosis could keep her from attending games.” At Henry’s slight confusion, I explained bone frailty. He nodded. “Mattie’s not interested in sports anymore, though. I think he’s gonna get into engineering or something with cars.”
“Hm.” His mouth tugged up at the corners. “And what about you, Zach? What do you want to do?”
Good question. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out. I have some savings, but…” It wasn’t enough to get me far. “The thought of going to school makes me shudder.”
He kissed me, lingering. “Of course it does. You’ve been self-reliant from an early age, and school would feel like a step back. It wouldn’t be, mind you, but I understand four years is too much for someone who’s been waiting so long to get somewhere.”
Jesus, in one sentence, he summed it all up perfectly.
I kissed him back and deepened it. It’d been a while since I tasted him, and he had wicked skills with his tongue. It seduced me with each stroke.
“Is this a hint for us to change the topic?” He smiled into the kiss.
I nodded once and crawled on top of him.
Eight
There’s a tongue in my ass
We met up with Martin downstairs for an early dinner. He’d made chicken parm and picked up a bottle of wine, and it wasn’t until I sat down on the porch that I realized how hungry I was. Napping with Henry entailed orgasms that left me flushed and starving, and I was pretty sure the flush hadn’t left me. The mere memory of our cocks sliding together was giving me shivers.
He’d also made me jerk off on his chest while he squeezed and groped my ass.
I’d been so close to begging for more. Not fucking once had he pushed a finger inside, and it bugged me. Next time, I’d ask.
“I have to head out soon again,” Martin said as he fanned out a napkin on his lap. “Tanya’s going on vacation. Can you believe that? It messes with my schedule.”
“You poor baby,” Henry mocked.
“Who’s Tanya?” I asked. “Shit, this is delicio
us.” Martin could cook. The spaghetti, the cheese, the breaded chicken, the…spinach, I think—all of it, fucking amazing.
“She’s the only person allowed to touch my hair,” Martin replied. “I’m glad you like it, dear.”
“When’s your appointment?” Henry wondered. “Zach, you should go with him.”
“What’s wrong with my hair?” I frowned.
“Don’t get me started,” Martin muttered. “But yes, brilliant idea, Henry. Zach, you’re coming with me.”
Henry gave my leg a gentle squeeze. “Try something new. It’s what you’re here for, remember? It’s our duty to make sure you experience as much as possible.”
“Uh, something new? We have hairdressers in Washington too, believe it or not.” I found them both a little crazy. “For the record, the kitchen shears work fine.”
Martin feigned a heart attack at that, and even Henry looked dismayed.
When Martin had recovered, he launched into a tirade about his stylist—not a hairdresser—and her excellent scalp massages. It made me laugh and scrunch my nose. I knew I was gonna agree, ’cause when push came to shove, I wanted to experience things Henry and Martin’s way, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t nuts. I wasn’t completely foreign to luxury, either. Another ex-girlfriend of mine used to get her hair done for over a hundred dollars.
“Fine,” I griped. “But I draw the line at manicures and shit.”
Henry found that very reasonable and said he didn’t like those either, whereas Martin called us both heathens.
“Zach,” Tanya sang.
“Mmph.” I peeled my eyes open, her fingers in my hair having been too much for me to handle. She’d almost put me to sleep during the shampoo session. “Holy shit.” My gaze landed on my reflection in the mirror in front of me. Her latest magic had included dragging her long nails along my scalp while styling my hair. “I look almost cool.” I turned my head to check it out, and damn if I didn’t love it. She’d kept most of my hair as it was but cut it really fucking short on the sides.