KEEP (Men of the ESRB Book 2)

by Shiloh, Hollis

  I'd felt his excitement and happiness — even joy — rising all day, and it seemed to be culminating with this least important activity of all, watching a movie. The fun stuff was behind us; this was just a winding-down period before sleep. I probably wouldn't last more than fifteen minutes, as tired as I was feeling.

  I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to figure him out. But he just cast me a sweet, happy smile. He felt happy enough on the inside that I was surprised he wasn't dancing. Yet I felt no triumph or trickery from him, no lustful energies aimed towards me, no sneaky plans. He was just . . . happy. Genuinely, from deep inside, happy.

  Spending the day with me had been enjoyable to him, but this was something deeply personal, a fulfilled sense of joy, hope, and completion. It was as though something he'd been looking forward to for some time was about to happen, and it was wonderful.

  I hoped he'd let me in on it if it was something I needed to know about — a vision about to come true.

  Then again, he'd said a lot of his visions were pretty personal in nature. That might have to do with what was happening here: something of his own, deeply personal, was making him happy.

  He picked a movie, barely seemed to think about it, and again I felt that happy feeling bubbling up inside him.

  "You sure are having a good day today," I said, putting an arm around him briefly, affectionately.

  "Uh-huh," he said softly, letting himself lean against me for a moment. Such a gentle guy. Cute, hot, funny, smart, and kind-hearted. He was going to make someone such a good boyfriend someday.

  But not me.

  We made a pile of pillows and propped ourselves up against them, settling in comfortably to watch and doze.

  He grabbed a small box of fancy chocolates from off the table and dragged it over with him before settling down.

  "You'd better not get that everywhere," I warned him. A minute later, I made him pass it over to me and share; he laughed at me, but it was all very pleasant and cozy.

  Soon we were passing partially eaten flavors back and forth to each other. He liked coconut and I didn't; I liked caramel and he didn't. It made for an excellent division of the little box.

  Unfortunately, we both liked salted dark chocolate. "I will fight you for it," I warned him.

  His eyes flashed at me, happy and teasing, and he passed me the box very gingerly — then yanked it away at the last second and laughed at me when I growled and tackled him for it.

  "Don't make me tickle you," I warned him, half lying on top of him. He was warm and slim and muscular, and right now breathing in a heavy, distracting way.

  "Ooh," he teased, and reached for my ribs.

  "Knock it off!" I swatted him away and ate the last chocolate. Ha!

  Soon we'd settled again into a puppy pile on the bed, one of his legs hooked over mine. I had an arm around his back. It was cozy and friendly without being too much like a sexual situation.

  The TV was massive and immersive, but I found myself more drawn to the experience of having Ellery cuddled up next to me in the pillow pile. I could watch a movie anytime; it was something else to be so close to someone who was feeling genuinely happy. I so often had to soak in the miserable feelings of others, and it always affected me. Now, I wallowed in his happiness. It felt very good.

  He gestured to the screen with a piece of chocolate. "This is my favorite movie, you know."

  "Really?" I stared at the screen, where spies were cavorting in stylized, dramatic fashion with cheesy one-liners and arched eyebrows. Everything was over the top. I mean, there should definitely be popcorn involved in enjoying this movie. I could see piling into a movie theater on a hot day to enjoy the air conditioning and escape the real world, but as a favorite movie? Nah.

  "I missed it in the theater. Is it really that good?"

  "I just like it." There was something he wasn't telling me now, but I didn't want to push. I wanted to relax. And I wanted to let my fingers play with his hair, apparently, because that's what I caught them doing.

  He didn't object.

  It was very fine, soft hair, and for some reason made me think of dandelion fluff, so flyaway, insubstantial, and soft.

  He leaned against me a little more for a shameless cuddle. He was warm, and he smelled clean, and it felt good to have a man in my arms. I let him settle there, wrapping my arm around him more firmly. This was good.

  This was fine. Friends could do this. I certainly felt very warmly towards him indeed.

  "I waited for it for so long," he mumbled. "And now I'm falling asleep."

  "That's fine. You fall asleep." Who waited for a movie like this with bated breath — unless your real life circumstances were so unhappy that any escape, especially a light and fluffy one, was something to long for? I stroked his hair a little more. "Sleep. Go on."

  "Mm." He scrunched down and closer to me, and his eyes drifted shut. I gazed at him, fighting an unsuccessful battle against the fondness welling up in me.

  He was a very nice guy, Ellery. I liked him a lot. And he would make a wonderful lifelong friend — if I didn't mess it up somehow.

  In that moment with my arm around him, as he was watching the movie and falling asleep, his happiness reached the perfect ringing pitch, like the clearest bell making a very sweet, long note. I had never felt him happier or more content than this.

  His joy in today had reached its highest point; he was entirely happy and entirely content.

  Chapter ten

  "Would you please put a shirt on?" I said, irritably tossing a t-shirt to hit him in the chest. He blinked but ignored it, stretching his arms up and over his head, puffing up and flexing his chest a little, just enough to make it even harder not to notice how hot he was.

  He would never really tan, but there was the faintest of golden tinges to his pale skin, and his almost-white hair was almost-whiter than usual from all the sun. The lazy grin he cast me was challenging and infectious. He had a dimple, too, and teeth that were slightly crooked, imperfect but white and clean.

  It was a smile that did things to a person's lower belly. I mean, if they weren't immune to such thoughts about their best friend.

  "I mean it." I kept my brows pulled down, trying to look fierce.

  "Why, are you afraid you won't be able to control yourself?" Ellery was clearly not impressed with my fierce face.

  I made a grumbling growl sound. "You're driving me crazy."

  "Oh, good. It's your turn, you know."

  I gaped at him, and then remembered to frown. "You're being impossible."

  "Uh-huh." He went back to the bed and stretched out like he was ready to film a porno, more or less on his arched back, legs spread, wearing nothing but very short shorts that hid very little, one hand propped behind his head.

  His abs and slim muscles were a treat like that, all legs and arms, slim waist and bulging shorts. He let one hand side down to the top of his thigh and rest there. He was almost completely free of body hair, but somehow it suited him.

  Most of the time I preferred a hairier guy, but Ell . . . Ell looked perfect as he was. He looked like he should be in a tantalizing set of photos, as artful as they were sexy. But his eyes, oh, his eyes. They wouldn't have made it through an impersonal photo shoot. The look in them was so intimate, and all for me.

  He eyes sparkled at me. Inside, I could tell he was feeling happy and naughty and entirely too confident in his charms for my own good. I do love a confident man, and he wasn't faking it, not even a bit. He was honestly enjoying this a great deal.

  Enjoying watching me squirm, no doubt. But he also . . . wanted me. It was flustering to feel it so strongly, a steady thrum of want, a heartbeat growing stronger that would not be denied much longer. And he wasn't pretending for a second that it was otherwise — not anymore.

  "We were doing fine yesterday, weren't we?" I entreated, pleading for the mercy he didn't seem inclined to give. There would be no easy out today, no gentle friendship with all the closeness but none of the sexiness.


  "Sure." He gave me a charming, disreputable grin that wasn't entirely good for my blood pressure. "But I gave you the day off. Not today."

  And that felt like the nail in the coffin. I felt something sink inside me even as my libido turned cartwheels and rejoiced. He was going to go there. He was going to tease me until I distanced myself completely — or gave in to my own want for him. No more friendly cuddles, no more friends-for-life. He wanted more or bust.

  "Not cool, Ellery," I managed in a hoarse croak.

  He snorted softly. His hand slid a little farther to the center and gently massaged his bulge. He looked like pure sex stretched out like that, touching himself, watching me and smiling invitingly.

  "Come on," he said softly. "You know you want to."

  "I—" It was very hard to swallow, to breathe. My trousers were tight. "I don't want to lose your friendship," I said weakly. It sounded like a stupid reason, all of a sudden.

  "You won't. I can promise you that. But wouldn't it be nice to have a boyfriend? There'd be lots of sex involved." He waggled his eyebrows gently. He spoke with a sweet sincerity, despite everything. And there was a tenderness in his eyes I couldn't quite handle, as though he was taking pity on me.

  But that didn't mean he was letting up, did it? Oh no. He arched his back a little, closing his eyes, let his head fall back, and gave a slightly staged, breathy little moan.

  I wanted to ask him more about this boyfriends thing — did he have any idea that I'd never been able to keep a boyfriend? Why did he think it was worth risking so much for this?

  Did he know something I didn't? I really wanted the answer to be yes to that one. If I could fool myself into thinking there was a chance of this working out long term —

  But at that moment, my control broke. I went for him, moving before I was even really thinking. "You're a shit for doing this," I said in shaking voice as I knelt over him, undoing his pants.

  He looked up at me. "Then say no. Say you don't want me."

  But I did. I wanted him very much.

  He waited for my response, one brow raised. "That's what I thought." He gave a small, satisfied nod and reached for my pants, too.

  In the midst of making out and getting each other naked, I told him we shouldn't do anything that required condoms unless we'd been tested thoroughly, or had some condoms.

  "When were you tested?" he said, looking at me steadily, like he wasn't going to believe any lies on the subject — like he knew already.

  I told him. He gave a little nod. "Good."

  "Don't you want to wait till you see the paper—"

  "I trust you," he said glibly. "Now open that drawer."

  I opened it, and there were his test results. Clean for the last six months. The latest test was dated the week before our vacation, almost to the day he would've left. I stared at him, realizing what this meant, what he was offering.

  I had always been good about safe sex. I didn't go without protection for anyone. But . . . it had been some long months without sex. I was clean, and Ell was clean, and this was a huge thing he was offering me.

  "I'm pretty versatile," said Ellery smugly, hands behind his head, that knowing little smile on his face. "I'm really pretty good at sex."

  I snorted at his arrogance — and then remembered when he'd told me he was good at dancing and I hadn't believed him. That sweet, shy vulnerability about him held some secrets. And he seemed pretty sure of himself, confident just short of the point of arrogance about this one fact: he was good at sex.

  "Let me be the judge of that," I told him, then covered his body with my own and his mouth with kisses.

  He was good at kissing, that was for sure. He definitely held his own, even though I was bigger and pretty horny at this point. My hands trembled with desperate desire, my breath heaving as I ground against him and kissed him breathless.

  "Sure," he said easily, panting between kisses. "Let me take care of you. You can rate me on a scale of one to ten later, if you want." He gave me a big, sloppy wink, almost camp it was so cutely confident, and then he rolled over on top of me . . . and slid down. He gave me another quick, naughty wink before he deep-throated me and I lost my mind. My powers of speech and all thought began to abandon me, a steady sliding away until there was only feeling, and good feelings at that.

  Ell held nothing back — nothing. It was almost frightening how open, confident, and vulnerable he let himself be with me.

  He was also really, really good at this.

  After I came from his skilled mouth, he slid up beside me. I hadn't even needed to touch him, and he'd come, too. He lay down stretched out next to me with a shy self-satisfaction.

  "I need a cigarette," he said, sounding a little hoarse. How he could talk at all, I didn't know; the power of speech was beyond me entirely. He hesitated, thinking. "At least I would if this was an old movie. I guess I'll settle for this." He kissed me softly on the cheek and pulled my arm up around him so I was holding him loosely. He cuddled up next to my side, a hand resting on my chest, and sighed, closing his eyes. He was content, with a deep feeling of rightness, that this was how it was supposed to be.

  I thought he might be right.

  #

  Over the next few days, we had lots and lots of sex. We were amazing together, if I do say so myself.

  I had any number of freak-outs about losing him, or messing it up somehow, but he was so happily matter-of-fact about the whole thing that it was impossible to worry too much while we were together.

  The first time I fumblingly said maybe we should just be friends, he laughed and twined his arms around my neck, kissed me soundly, and looked at me with such affection it made my breath catch.

  "Don't be silly. We are friends. We're also boyfriends. Not lovers, friends with benefits, or a hookup. Boyfriends." He kissed me again, and I found I didn't want to argue about it. His word choice — his certainty — relieved me. I had very little trust in myself lately for such things. But he believed in this — in us — and sometimes, that was enough.

  Let's face it, when a sexy clairvoyant wants you to believe you have a future with him, and you want to believe it very much anyway, it's pretty hard to resist.

  If I didn't come right out and ask him if we were 'destined' to be together (since I wasn't sure how I'd handle a yes or a no from him), I let myself believe that maybe he had some special foreknowledge that we were compatible, and real, committed boyfriends.

  It was great for my ego, how much he liked me. He made it so easy, with his sense of humor and his matter-of-factness about our relationship. And he didn't stop being my friend. The intimacy added more sweetness and pleasure to our other interactions. While before, lounging together on the beach or sitting next to each other on the bed watching a movie had been about the height of our closeness, now we were all over each other, not just in sexy ways but in pure affection.

  He was a pretty cuddly guy, apparently. He still liked to watch TV or movies with me, when we weren't fucking each other's brains out, but now we'd lie with limbs entwined, holding each other close and regardless of personal space. Sometimes, we'd start kissing and get distracted from the television altogether. Somehow, I don't think either of us minded.

  When it came to eating, he stole food off my plate and demanded I try what he'd ordered, often on the end of his fork. He took things for granted in a way that I loved. Of course we would do things together the same as usual, just in better ways now, too. Of course my worries were ridiculous. Of course we had a shot at a future together.

  He was very clear on the boyfriends thing, and it settled something wild and nervous inside of me, something that had been burned too many times.

  Basically, I let him convince me. And, boy, did I enjoy being convinced. I was very glad for him to be right — I hoped he was.

  #

  "Oh, shit, shit, shit."

  I woke up to Ellery next to me twisting to the side and groaning and cursing. He punched the bed and swore again, hard
er. "SHIT."

  "What?" Awake now and alarmed, I touched his back, tried to get him to look at me. When he did, there was a kind of sick, nervous dread in his eyes that I hadn't seen lately. He'd been so comfortable and at ease, I was shocked to see and feel his anxiety and fear.

  "What is it?" I touched him lightly again, hoping to offer reassurance. "You can tell me."

  "I thought we had longer to rest." His gaze was solemn, a little scared, and inside he was uneasy and jumpy, afraid I wouldn't believe him. Whatever was bothering him had come to him suddenly.

  Briefly, I thought he meant to break up with me; I discarded that idea almost immediately. There was nothing like that going on — but he was worried about my reaction.

  "What is it? It's all right." I stroked his side, trying to calm him. "I'm here, you're here, it's safe. Tell me if you can."

  He took a deep breath. Closed his eyes for a moment, gathering strength, then popped them open and gazed at me, biting his lip a little. His lips parted, and he asked, slowly, "Do you trust me?"

  "Yes."

  "I mean, a lot? I need you to really believe in my talent and . . . and listen to me, even if you think it's stupid and doesn't make sense. It sometimes doesn't, till later."

  "Of course I'll trust you. What is it? What do we need to do?"

  How could I not offer my trust? I knew he was good at what he did, and not following his instincts would be useless. People might disbelieve my talents, but it never got them anywhere. What good would it do to stick my head in the sand about his, aside from making my boyfriend feel like he had to face the danger singlehandedly, whatever it was?

  He took another sharp breath. "We need to leave. Now. We're in danger here."

  My back prickled. "Is the whole resort in danger? Should we warn someone?"

  "No. It's just us. We're in danger here, and we need to leave — now."

  "Where should we go?"

  He answered immediately. "Anywhere. Just . . . go." The urgency in his eyes spoke volumes, and the plea in his gaze begged me to believe him.