Love Wins
Page 35
“MMM, THIS was good. No, it was amazing. We definitely have to do it again.”
Like an oversized, content cat, Morgan had slung his long limbs around Dean’s exhausted form. The scent of their lovemaking was still lingering in the air, a pleasant fragrance telling of time well spent. Dean inhaled the musky note wafting up from Morgan’s sweat-slick skin.
“Yeah, definitely. But first, sleep. You’ve worn me out.”
Morgan’s eyes lit up in what could only be described as proud male possessiveness. Dean slapped him lazily.
“Yes, you are the best, stud among studs, so good I’m about to swoon. Now let me sleep.”
Morgan pressed a few light kisses on Dean’s shoulder.
“You know, I’ve been thinking. It’s time for our first official date. We’ve been doing so many naughty things, I almost completely forgot about the other things that make a relationship worthwhile. And even though you’re not a fan, how about we have this important first date on Valentine’s Day? It’s the day after tomorrow, so we don’t have to wait too long, and I know this great place, cozy and intimate, where they serve the best pasta you’ve ever had. What do you say?”
Dean went very still in Morgan’s embrace. Everything he had been dreading for the last few days seemed to crush down on him at once. And Morgan being so serious about their relationship only made things worse. Dean felt as if he had been maneuvered into a tight corner, one from which he couldn’t escape. The man still holding him as if he were the most precious thing in his life was waiting for an answer.
“I don’t go out. I hate it when people stare at me.”
His tone felt cold even in his own ears. Behind him, Morgan shifted. The tension between them suddenly became palpable.
“We can go late, when it’s already dark. And we’ll ask for a candlelight dinner. It’ll be fine.”
When Dean didn’t react, Morgan started to wheedle.
“Come on, don’t be so cold to your boyfriend. I promise, you’ll have fun!”
There it was, the ominous word. Boyfriend. It held so much joy and love and was at the same time so terrible because of all the responsibility it carried.
Dean panicked. “Whoever said anything about you being my boyfriend? We’re having lots of athletic sex, but that doesn’t make a relationship.”
The moment he said the words, Dean wished he could take them back. Morgan sat up so abruptly, Dean was thrown off balance. When their eyes met, he could see the shock in Morgan’s face. Shock that was replaced by such pain it made Dean bite his tongue. And then Morgan became furious. He snarled like a tiger and jumped off the bed, his fists clenched.
“So I’m just a fuck buddy to you? Somebody to let off steam with? That’s what you see in me? I can’t believe I fell for such a conceited, selfish idiot! You know what your problem is, Dean? You’re still wallowing in self-pity over something that happened so long ago it’s practically history. Yes, what you had to endure was bad, but it’s high time you snap out of it and grow a pair. Life is passing you by in a flash, and if you don’t straighten yourself out, you’ll be left behind.”
Taken aback by Morgan’s outburst, Dean lashed out himself. “I was doing fine until you came barging into my home. You invaded my private space, you swamped me with your lust, and you think you only have to wave your hand and I’ll comply with everything you say? I’m not one of your damn projects. You may be able to repair my house, but newsflash, humans are a lot more complicated than a little plumbing. And no, so far I haven’t considered you as boyfriend material, because that takes more than just a big cock and knowing how to use it.”
“I think it’s better that I leave now. Once you’ve calmed down, perhaps you’ll realize what a prick you are. Bye.”
Morgan turned around, grabbed his jeans, and stormed out of the room stark naked. Dean heard several crashes that sounded like Morgan punching the walls on his way down the stairs, then the front door slamming and the sound of Morgan’s pickup as he drove away. He didn’t know how long he stared at the empty space where Morgan had been before he started crying.
“DEAN, WHAT on earth happened? You look like one of the walking dead!”
Dean could feel Alice’s concerned stare. He knew he looked even worse than during his depressive phase after the accident. His eyes had sunken deep into their sockets, his skin was ashen, his hair was more disheveled than usual, with unkempt bangs hanging in his face. He just couldn’t muster the energy to clean himself up. He felt feverish, as if he had fallen ill and not slept in days. When he lifted his hand to brush the strands behind his ears, he trembled.
“Oh, Alice! I had a fight with Morgan. He’s gone.”
As if these words had exhausted him completely, Dean sunk back into the chair he had been sitting in when Alice entered. It had only been two days since their argument, but he felt as if all life had been drained from him. Getting up in the morning was an almost impossible task—and sitting down to work was out of the question, since the only thing he could think about was how terribly he missed Morgan. Dean felt so miserable, he couldn’t even muster the strength to get himself something to eat.
Alice watched him for a few minutes before she decided to tackle the problem directly. “So what? This is perfectly normal in a relationship. You fight, you get it out of your system, you make up. It’s not the end of the world.”
“We’re not going to make up. I think we broke up. Alice, I more or less told him that I didn’t see him as my boyfriend.”
Alice winced. “Whatever made you say something so stupid?”
“I freaked out. It was all so perfect, so unreal. Like in one of my stories. I just couldn’t believe it was real. I was too afraid to get hurt. So I evaded the topic and convinced myself that this was some kind of infatuation, nothing serious. And then Morgan asked me out. On an official date. I just…. My mouth started talking before my brain could catch up, and before I knew it, I said so many terrible things. He was willing to go to the next level, and I chickened out. It’s all my fault.”
Alice sighed. She stepped forward and embraced Dean. “So you’re sorry? You want him back?”
“Yes to both. But how? I don’t think a normal apology will be enough.”
“Welllll, it is Valentine’s Day, and I do happen to have Morgan’s address and an idea that might work. So why don’t you sit down and write your first Valentine’s card ever?”
She looked him up and down. “After a prolonged shower. You reek, little brother.”
Sniffling, Dean obeyed. He was terrified of going outside in broad daylight, and even more terrified of having to apologize. But the alternative was being stuck in this house forever and torturing himself with what-if questions for the rest of his life. Better to at least try to win back his boyfriend. There, he had thought it. Boyfriend. It was still a big word, but not as hard to chew as he had feared. Boyfriend. Boyfriend. He could do it. After the shower.
WHEN THE doorbell rang, Morgan hid his face under a pillow. He had been drinking steadily ever since he left Dean two days ago and was now paying the price for his foolish action. Although the aspirin was slowly kicking in, he really didn’t feel like meeting anybody right now. How on earth could he have been so stupid? Things had been going so smoothly, and then he had ruined it all by pressuring Dean, as if he didn’t know how shy and insecure he was. Of course it had backfired, and now he was sitting all alone in his empty apartment on Valentine’s Day, of all days, thinking about what an idiot he had been. His only excuse was that the intense sex with Dean had led him to believe they were closer than he had anticipated after such a short time.
The bell rang out again, this time in an impatient staccato. Grunting, Morgan got up from the couch and staggered toward the door.
“Coming!”
The first thing Morgan registered when he opened the door was the box with the single sunflower pinned to it. Then he became aware of the man holding it. He was dressed in a UPS uniform and looked slightly uncomfortabl
e.
“Wrong door, man. This can’t be for me.”
“But it says here, Mr. Morgan Marranca. That’s you, isn’t it?”
Morgan frowned. The box screamed Valentine’s gift, and he was racking his brain for who could have sent it.
A little impatiently, the courier thrust the thing at him. “Are you going to accept it or not? ’Cause, you know, you’re not the only one getting a present today.”
Reluctantly Morgan took the box and signed where the man told him to. After he had closed the door again, he placed the gift on a table and stared at it for a while. Finally he took the white envelope from under the sunflower, tore it open, and started to read. It was a simple white card with an unobtrusive floral pattern in gold at one side.
Morgan,
I’m terribly sorry for hurting you the way I did. I certainly never intended to cause you such pain. You were right, of course. I’m a coward and a prick, but I do happen to be a prick with a table for two at Fronterra tonight at 7:00.
If you want, there will be a cab picking you up at 6:30. You don’t have to come, but I would be truly happy if you would allow me to apologize to you properly.
Love, Dean
PS: I hope you like the suit.
Morgan stared in utter disbelief at Dean’s elaborate handwriting. Here he was wallowing in regret while his adorable lover had taken matters in hand! This was simply too good to be true. With trembling fingers he reached for the lid of the package and lifted it. Inside was a neatly folded cream-colored suit complete with a blue shirt and gold cuff links. His eyes wandered to the clock on the wall. He had about four hours left to sober up and make himself presentable. There was no way he would miss that cab.
The “cab” turned out to be a small limousine that pulled up at the sidewalk in front of his apartment at exactly six thirty. The uniformed driver opened the door for him and even bowed slightly when Morgan folded his tall frame into the broad seat. Half an hour later, he was standing in front of another uniformed man who smiled at him most politely.
“Mr. Marranca, I presume? It’s a pleasure to have you here. This is Patricia, your waitress for tonight. She will take you to your seat.”
A tall blonde woman who looked like a cross between a high-maintenance dominatrix and a supermodel beckoned him to follow her. “Mr. Hollowitz is already waiting for you.”
She led him through the main room of the restaurant, where each table had its own niche. The light was dimmed to make the atmosphere even more intimate. There were couples everywhere, losing themselves in each other’s eyes and enjoying truly splendid food, if the scents permeating the room were any indication. They climbed three steps onto a small platform where, behind a door with velvet covers, another private room was situated, a table set for two with a candle in the middle. More candles were burning in various places, creating an atmosphere so romantic and intimate, Morgan felt the hair on his neck rise.
“Mr. Hollowitz, your guest is here.”
Dean, who had been studying a photograph of an Italian landscape, turned around quickly. When his eyes fell on Morgan, he blushed ever so slightly and started chewing his lip, a sure sign he was nervous. The hostess stepped through the door.
“I’ll be bringing you the aperitif in about ten minutes, if that is all right with you.”
Dean nodded absentmindedly. “Thank you, Patricia.”
The woman closed the door behind her, and they were alone. Before the silence between them could become awkward, Morgan decided to speak.
“You look great. That color suits you.”
He was referring to the anthracite-colored suit Dean was wearing. Dean blushed even more.
“Thank you. I wanted to look good for you.” He fidgeted for a moment before he gathered all his courage. “Thank you for coming. I almost thought you would refuse me.”
Morgan wanted to answer, but Dean stopped him.
“Please, I had such a great speech prepared to tell you once you got here, and now it seems I’ve forgotten it all. So I’m afraid I have to wing it. I’m very, very sorry for the terrible things I said to you. The truth is, I was so scared of being happy, I thought it was better to pass up the chance. I never once thought about how much my behavior would hurt you. Our relationship happened so fast, I just didn’t know how to deal with it, and I apologize for all the pain I caused you. I know you must still be furious at me, but I do hope you can forgive me somehow.”
Morgan crossed the space between them in two long strides and took Dean in his arms. “I’m sorry too. I pressured you even though I knew how hard the whole thing was for you. And concerning the things I said, that was just me being really mean. Don’t take them to heart.”
Dean buried his face in Morgan’s chest. “It was true, though.”
“No, it wasn’t. I accused you of being a coward, but a coward would never have arranged a meeting like this, not knowing whether I would show up or not. You’re beyond brave. I really love that side of you.”
“Then we’re good?”
A saucy grin appeared on Morgan’s face. “We’re good.”
He leaned in to give Dean a deep, deep kiss when behind them somebody cleared their throat in a very discreet manner.
“Here is your aperitif, gentlemen. I hope you enjoy it. May I serve the first course?”
Patricia didn’t seem to be ruffled by their little display at all. She was every inch the professional waitress. Dean smiled at her.
“Thank you. And yes, that would be nice.”
Again the woman left the room as quietly as a shadow.
“Now, where were we?”
Morgan pulled Dean close again, and their lips met in a passionate kiss. Reluctantly they let go of each other. Dean offered Morgan a glass of Kir Royale.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Morgan.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Dean. Cheers!”
They both took a sip of the excellent beverage before they got seated. Morgan reached for Dean’s hand and started caressing it gently.
“Please enlighten me as to how you managed to get a private room in a place like this on such short notice? I mean, it’s beyond posh here, and until today I didn’t even know there was a restaurant in this building.”
Dean grinned like a schoolboy, reveling in Morgan’s amazement.
“Well, I happen to be the owner of the entire building, the restaurant included. It’s one of the investments Alice has made for me over the years, and until today I didn’t even know about it either. And of course when the owner calls, there’s always a free table.”
Morgan shook his head. “Man, I thought you had to be loaded, what with all the books you’ve written, but to think I caught myself a real sugar daddy…. I almost feel like a fairy-tale princess.”
Dean made a face. He knew very well that Morgan couldn’t care less about his money and social status, so he took the joke a little further.
“I can’t be your sugar daddy, since I’m pretty sure I’m younger than you are. As for the ‘princess’ bit—I could be the Frog King.”
“Which means I have to kiss you and feed you from my plate and share my bed with you?”
“Doesn’t sound half-bad to me.”
They looked into each other’s eyes, both of them awed and happy beyond telling that they were back to normal.
When the first course was served, a mouthwatering combination of prosciutto di parma, buffalo mozzarella, and zucchini carpaccio topped with balsamic vinegar, Dean was already feeling slightly tipsy due to the excellent wine and Morgan’s sheer presence. The second course was a mixed salad with a creamy yogurt and garlic dressing, followed by a heavenly tomato soup with two slices of truly delicious, fresh baguette and a small plate of spaghetti topped with a fig and gorgonzola sauce. After that they had rump steak with steamed vegetables and baked potatoes. The sumptuous feast concluded with variations of mousse au chocolat accompanied by a fifteen-year-old Slyrs whisky.
Satisfied, Dean leaned back, watching happ
ily as Morgan sucked on his last spoon of mousse. He imagined him sucking on something else entirely and suddenly realized that he had been horny as hell the whole time. When Morgan spoke, he realized he must be feeling the same way.
“Let’s get home. Even though my stomach is full, I still feel a hankering, and there’s only one thing that can satisfy me right now.”
A little startled, Dean got up, trying to hide his sudden excitement.
“I know what you mean. I, too, still have an appetite. But don’t you dare throw me against the wall first.”
“How could I, after you’ve fed me so exceedingly well? Besides, I already have my prince, so there will only be kissing and a lot of other, naughtier things.”
“I can’t wait.”
Together they left the restaurant and returned home.
XENIA MELZER was born and raised in a small village in the South of Bavaria. As one of nature’s true chocoholics, she’s always in search of the perfect chocolate experience. So far, she’s had about a dozen truly remarkable ones. Despite having been in close proximity to the mountains all her life, she has never understood why so many people think snow sports are fun. There are neither chocolate nor horses involved and it’s cold by definition, so where’s the sense? She does not like beer either and has never been to the Oktoberfest—no quality chocolate there.
Even though her mind is preoccupied with various stories most of the time, Xenia has managed to get through school and university with surprisingly good grades. Right after school she met her one true love who showed her that reality is capable of producing some truly amazing love stories itself.