by Riley Hart
*
Quinn hit every red light on La Cienega.
The text Miles had sent earlier partially came as a surprise and partially didn’t. He’d been hopeful, though. Unlike Miles, it wasn’t hard for Quinn to admit he liked him. That he enjoyed their banter just as much as he enjoyed their sex.
But then, Quinn was a totally different man than Miles was, and he strangely also liked that Miles did have such a hard shell to crack.
And somehow, Quinn was cracking the fuck out of it.
He wanted to continue doing it.
He pulled into the alley behind Hotel Café. The parking garage was across from it, security standing at the entrance and taking the parking fee. Once he paid, he parked and found his way to the doorway of the bar that opened in the alley rather than on the main street.
Music came from inside—the opening band, no doubt, as Quinn leaned against the building waiting for Miles to arrive.
He saw the black Lexus pull in, thought about walking over and meeting him but didn’t. It was a few minutes later that Miles stepped out of the garage, and holy fuck, Quinn almost swallowed his goddamned tongue.
He wore a pair of black jeans and a black shirt with no collar and three silver buttons down the front. They were undone, giving a glimpse of his chest and all the smooth, brown skin. The sleeves were short, hugging his muscular arms.
He was taller than Quinn. It looked like he’d cleaned up his buzzed hair a little, not that he’d needed it, but his sides looked as though they faded more than before.
Miles commanded attention—men and women watched him as he looked around, and then his eyes met Quinn and a slow, sexy smile tugged at his lips.
Christ, he was fuckin’ gorgeous.
He walked over with long strides, and Quinn told him, “I think everyone wants to drop to their knees for you, you fucking bastard.”
“Do you?” Miles cocked a brow.
“Pretty boys always get me into trouble, so yes.”
His brows pulled together and his forehead wrinkled as though he wasn’t sure what he thought of Quinn’s reply. “Are you going to tell me I look good?” Quinn asked. He’d rather ask questions than let Miles overthink things at the moment.
“You didn’t tell me I looked good.”
“I just called you pretty and said I wanted to get on my knees for you. What more do you want?” He still leaned against the building and crossed his arms.
“A demonstration?” Miles said then reached out and grabbed Quinn’s hip. “You look good. You’re always fucking gorgeous. That’s what got us into this mess in the first place. Soon as I saw you, I wanted you beneath me.”
Damned if Quinn’s pulse didn’t go erratic.
As soon as he’d seen Miles, he wanted to be beneath him as well.
Or to ride him—Quinn wasn’t picky.
Miles’s thumb brushed up under Quinn’s dark blue tee and then under the edge of his jeans, where Miles’s fingerprints were in his skin. “You’re trouble,” he added.
“Don’t pretend you don’t like being bad.” Quinn heard the breathlessness in his own words. He liked being bad with Miles too.
“Oh, I’m not pretending anything. I’d duck down the alley with you right now, baby boy. Push you to your knees and take your mouth. Once I came in your mouth, I’d pull you to your feet and kiss you before I kneeled and made you come as well.”
A strangled moan slipped past Quinn’s lips. Why was that so goddamned hot? Having Miles call him baby boy and hearing what he wished he could do to Quinn.
And he would let him.
He played it off as though he wouldn’t. “Tempting, but I’m in the mood to make you suffer.” Quinn winked and Miles growled as Quinn stepped around him, making Miles’s hand fall. “Let’s go inside.”
They waited in the short line and then entered the dark bar. There were low, gold glowing lights scattered across the room and against the walls. Small, round tables were in front of the black stage. Taller tables were littered about the room behind them.
Quinn led Miles to the bar. He was surprised when Miles put his hand on the back of Quinn’s neck as they waited, as though he just wanted to touch him. Or as though he wanted everyone to know Quinn was with him.
“What do you want?” Miles asked a few moments later when the bartender approached them.
“Oh, you’re ordering my drink for me? Such a gentleman.”
“I hate you,” Miles said while squeezing Quinn’s neck gently and then brushed his finger over the back of it. “Fine. I want a Jack and Coke.”
“Two Jack and Cokes,” Quinn told the bartender. While he made their drinks, Quinn turned around and leaned against the bar.
“So is this who we’re here to see?” Miles asked and nodded backward toward the stage.
It was a band of three women who sounded a little bluesy. “No, but they’re good too. We’re here for Travesty. He’s this young kid with an old soul. Kind of a mix of Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen, and Jeff Buckley.”
“Hmm.” Miles shrugged, and Quinn wasn’t sure if it was because he was interested or not. He reached over Quinn’s shoulder and he realized the drinks were done. Miles grabbed them and Quinn turned around to pay, before Miles led them to a table in the back.
“So…do you come here often?” Miles asked when they sat, and Quinn rolled his eyes.
“That sounded very datey of you. We’re on a date, aren’t we?” Quinn teased back.
“I hate you,” Miles answered, confirming they were, in fact, on a date, even though Miles wasn’t very happy with the idea.
“You don’t date people you hate. That means you don’t hate me. Stop pretending you do.”
“Be quiet before I spank you.”
“Is that supposed to make me stop? I’m afraid the threat will have the opposite result,” Quinn teased and saw black fire brew in Miles’s eyes. Before they could get off on that topic, he asked, “So, you’re bi?” because he wanted to get to know more about Miles and he figured it was easier to do in public.
If Miles was surprised by the question, he didn’t show it. “I am, but it’s not often I’m with women. It’s been a few years, in fact. I’m attracted to them, and have had sexual interest in them, but I typically lean more toward men.”
“And your friends? You’ve known them most of your life?”
That question seemed a little more uncomfortable for Miles. He adjusted his position in his chair. “Yes. Our parents were friends. We grew up in a very affluent area. My mother and Chance’s went to college together. My mother and Oliver’s did a lot of charity work together. They were pregnant together—Ollie and Chance’s moms, that is.” He paused and took a drink. Quinn waited, knowing this wasn’t easy on Miles. “My mother couldn’t get pregnant. Chance had already been born—he’s actually the oldest by a couple months. My parents got the call about me a little over a week before Ollie was born. We really had no other option except to be best friends. Even if we had, it wouldn’t have changed anything. My mom used to tease us—she’s into New Age stuff. She thought it was destiny—Oliver and Chance’s moms being pregnant with boys and then her getting me. Add in that we’re all gay or bi, and she was fucking convinced about some kind of higher power playing a role in our lives.” Miles chuckled nostalgically. It was a good look on him—talking about his friends.
“What about the other one? Aren’t there four of you?”
He nodded. “Matt came along later. His mother worked for Ollie’s. Oliver fell in love with Matt at like twelve, and he’s been there ever since.”
“That’s sweet,” Quinn told him, meaning it. He didn’t have that kind of meaningful friendship until he was older. That ended and from there it wasn’t until college.
“It was a mess for a long time. Matt wasn’t ready and frankly didn’t deserve Oliver for years. I was always warning Ollie off him, trying to make him see what the rest of us did. Not that Matt was a bad man or as though it was all Matt’s fault. He had some person
al shit to deal with inside. Those aren’t battles anyone else can face for you. Until Matt was willing to face them, they never would have been able to be together. Ollie never listened to me, though.”
Miles telling Oliver how it was didn’t come as a surprise to Quinn. “So you’ve always been bossy?” he asked before quickly adding, “And you’ve always taken care of people you love. I can see that.” He wasn’t sure if Miles realized he did that, but Quinn heard it in how he spoke about them, even during their first weekend together.
Miles paused, cocked his head slightly as though he hadn’t expected that and then nodded. “It’s different now. Matty has his shit together. He’s a good man. Not perfect but who in the fuck is? We’re all flawed. Anyone who pretends otherwise is lying.”
That was one of the things Quinn liked the most about Miles. He owned his shit. Not many people did that. It was a whole lot easier to judge.
Miles was…different. Special. He didn’t think the other man knew it, though. Quinn realized it from the beginning. Not the full extent of course. Originally it had been mostly the fact that he was hot as hell and a good fuck, but he’d seen hints of more to Miles. Quinn had sensed that big fucking heart caged in his chest that he tried so hard to hide.
“You’re a good man, Counselor.”
Miles shrugged it off. “I have my moments like everyone else.”
But Quinn could have sworn he was embarrassed.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Miles was typically better at asking questions than he was answering them but he’d done his best for Quinn tonight. Quinn seemed to be satisfied, which oddly made Miles happy. “Are you this nosy on all your dates?” he asked while Quinn took a drink, and he damn near choked on it.
He set his glass down, patted on his chest, and coughed. “Nope. Just you. You’re special.” When Miles didn’t reply, he continued. “What about me? Am I that special?” Which was obviously his way of giving Miles permission to ask questions of his own—not that he needed the okay, but he appreciated it.
“Did you always know you wanted to design video games?” He tried to tune out the music in the background and just listen to Quinn. Somehow, Quinn made the task easier than he thought it would be.
“I did. Games were a constant companion when people weren’t always.”
Because people hadn’t been a constant in his life growing up—not the same people, at least. It made Miles realize how fucking lucky he was to have the friends and family he did. If anyone deserved that, it was Quinn.
“I was always smart, which was a plus. Kept my grades up even when I switched schools. I knew I wanted a different life than I had, and I saw an education as my way out of that. But I also knew it would never be a stuffy suit job for me—no offense.”
God, he liked the man. He didn’t cut Miles any slack. A lot of people were intimidated by him. “None taken,” Miles replied.
“I applied for every grant, loan, and scholarship I could. Worked my ass off, and here I am. Fairly successful, sexy video game designer on a date with a gorgeous attorney.”
“You sucking up to me?” Miles asked.
“Maybe.” Quinn winked.
Life was such a roll of the dice sometimes. They both hadn’t had the best start. Neither man had been raised by their blood family, yet their upbringings were so different. Miles could easily be Quinn, and Quinn could easily be Miles. Someone like his parents could have taken Quinn in, or Miles could have been unlucky enough that the call wasn’t made to his family. You just never knew what life held.
“You did good. You should be proud of yourself.” Miles respected the hell out of him. Quinn had his shit together. He didn’t let his past affect his life.
“I am,” Quinn replied.
He wanted to ask Quinn about his problem with sleep. What exactly had happened all those years ago? He knew he couldn’t, though. It wasn’t only because now wasn’t the time, but even thinking about it made a protective instinct rip through him, tear him to shreds. He knew he’d want to protect Quinn from whatever had happened. Would want to take it away, but it wasn’t as though he could fix something that happened in the past. Quinn was strong enough not to need him to, either.
It was then he realized the next act was taking the stage. He opened his mouth to ask another question, but Quinn cut him off, “Shh. This is my guy.”
“I thought I was your guy?” It wasn’t until the last word slipped past his lips that Miles considered what he said and what it meant, so he winked to play it off and ignored the wild run of his pulse. He wanted to be Quinn’s guy. Wanted Quinn to be his. He’d never actually dated someone before. It had never been something he wanted.
“Tonight you’re going to have to share me, Counselor.”
“Hmm. I don’t think so. I don’t share well. I’m a stingy bastard when I want something.” He waited for Quinn’s reply because he’d just put out there that he wanted Quinn.
Like he knew Quinn wouldn’t, he didn’t let Miles’s statement slip by. “And you want me.”
“You knew that.”
“You’re making it sound a little different from what you said earlier.”
Miles just shrugged and didn’t deny what Quinn said—balls to the wall. He wasn’t going to let himself turn into a liar.
“You always get what you want, don’t you?” Quinn then took a sip of his drink, looking at Miles over the glass.
He thought about his life. In a lot of ways, he had everything he could ever want, but again, the truth ran off his tongue, because there was more he wished for. He wanted to know where he’d come from. “No, I don’t.”
The light in Quinn’s eyes dimmed and Miles knew Quinn realized what he meant. “Well, I do,” Quinn finally said. “I guess it’s good that we want the same thing. Now be quiet before I’m the one gagging you.”
Quinn watched the performance after that, and Miles found himself watching Quinn. Watching his lips move when he sang and his Adam’s apple bob when he swallowed and feeling like something was wound around the two of them, binding them together.
And then he was a little embarrassed because he’d never thought something like that in his life, and thank God Quinn couldn’t hear him.
Before he knew it, the performance was over and he had Quinn pinned against his car, hands squeezing his hips and his tongue sweeping Quinn’s mouth.
He wanted to ravage him, to devour him. To fuck him over and over and over until they were nothing but two sweaty bodies melting into each other.
“My place or yours?” he asked before digging his teeth into Quinn’s neck and savoring the shudder he was given in return.
“Slow your roll, Counselor,” Quinn replied and Miles tensed up. “What makes you think I put out on the first date?”
“The fact that we fucked the first night we met?”
“That was different. That was sex. We’re dating now.”
“I changed my mind. I don’t want to date you anymore.” Miles nuzzled into Quinn’s neck again with a motherfucking smile on his face. The man could try to turn him down for sex and still somehow make him feel good.
“Too late. You’re stuck now. I have to make you wait for it, make you so fucking crazy for a piece of my ass.”
“Already there.” Miles slid his hand behind Quinn and squeezed his cheek for emphasis. “I’m dying to get in it. I’d bend you over this car right now if you’d let me.” He licked Quinn’s collarbone.
Quinn rubbed his rock-hard erection against Miles. A low growl ripped from Quinn’s throat. “I’m sure you would.”
“You gonna give me your ass tonight, baby boy? I promise I’ll be real good to it.” Miles nipped the skin of his throat again and felt a tremble rock through Quinn. “I haven’t gotten to taste it yet. I’ll make a fucking feast of you.” And he would. He couldn’t fucking wait, actually.
Quinn tightened his hold on Miles before saying words Miles hadn’t really expected to hear. “Not tonight.”
It was then M
iles realized he was serious. He pulled back and looked in Quinn’s soft, kind eyes. “Really?” It was okay. It wasn’t as though he wanted to fuck someone who wasn’t feeling it, but he knew Quinn wanted him.
“It’s been a big day. This isn’t just fucking anymore. Just…make sure it’s what you want because I know it’s what I want. You got me all twisted up, Counselor.” Quinn opened the car door, forcing Miles to step back.
It was what he wanted. God fucking help him, he wanted Quinn. Wanted to be with him, but Quinn was right. Today had been a big day, so he watched Quinn start his car.
He stepped back farther when Quinn pulled out of the parking spot. Watched while Quinn rolled down his window and grinned. “I already regret saying no, you sexy bastard.” And then he drove off and yeah…Miles was smiling again.
*
“So…you know that really hot boyfriend of yours?” Quinn asked his friend Christian through the phone.
“No. Who would that be?” he replied, and Quinn rolled his eyes.
“None of that. I’m the funny one between the two of us, and you know it.”
The other man laughed. Christian had a good sense of humor too, but Quinn would never admit it. “Whatever you say, but yes, I think I know who you mean.”
“I kind of have one of my own. Well, not the same because hearts don’t float by my head when I think about him. We’re not devoting ourselves to each other on national television, which I’m still fucking jealous about, by the way, but we’re dating.” Beck had claimed Christian on TV after winning the AMA Championship. It had been pretty incredible to see.
Quinn added, “Oh, and he’s hotter than Beck.” There. Take that. Quinn might not get Supercross but Miles was fucking gorgeous. Not that Beck wasn’t.
“First of all, no one is hotter than Beckett Monroe, and second, can we back this train up into the station? I’m fucking lost here. I think you need to start at the beginning.”
Which he wouldn’t have to do if Chris spent more time in LA, but he didn’t say that. He was happy for Christian. He and Beckett deserved whatever joy they could find after being apart for so long.