A little overwhelmed by the weight of that confession, Forrester moved closer. Kyle’s hazel eyes never left his. “Were you nervous?” he asked, touching Kyle’s arm. “About having me stay?”
“No.” Kyle gave a breathy chuckle, raising his brows. “Which was rather surprising, if you must know. I haven’t trusted anyone like this in a long time. I’m a little shocked at myself.”
Forrester couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face. “So I’m batting a thousand.”
“You are.” Kyle gave him a peck on the lips. “I set out towels and stuff if you want to take a shower while I make breakfast.”
As Forrester scooted off to the bathroom, he thought about what Kyle had told him. Yes, he had sex, but he did not sleep with men, doubtless because he didn’t sleep with his CI on. Yet he had trusted Forrester their first night together.
Woah, that’s heavy.
But for some reason that didn’t scare him. In fact, it made him insanely happy, like he’d just won tickets to the World Series.
No.
To have something as precious as a trust Kyle apparently did not dole out all that often, felt more like winning the World Series.
Kyle’s bathroom was aqua—probably some old lady in the thirties idea of stylish—and had one of those cool claw-foot tubs and a pedestal sink. Like a hotel, Kyle thought of everything Forrester might need. He’d placed a basket on the small dresser—obviously the only storage in the bathroom—with a new toothbrush, towels, soap, and one of those puffy things for body wash. Forrester took a quick shower, washing his hair and entire body with that yummy-smelling shampoo Kyle used. It didn’t quite smell as good as it did on Kyle.
Dressed in his clothes from yesterday and phone in his back pocket—he ignored the light flashing about new messages—Forrester joined Kyle in the kitchen. Two plates sat in front of the barstools at the island. “Smells good.”
“I hope you like omelets.”
His stomach growled, and he looked at the plates, grimacing before he could stop himself. “What’s all the green stuff?”
“Green peppers and spinach. Just pick out what you don’t want and give it to Jasper. He’ll love you forever.”
Forrester blushed. Nonna would smack him in the back of the head. Or worse, pull the hair at his temple if she heard him say that. He crossed the kitchen and gave Kyle a hug. “I’m sorry to be a complainer. Thank you for making breakfast.”
Kyle smiled but pushed him back to the stool. “Just eat it. I thought you would’ve liked veggies. You told Phin and Scott you were growing tomatoes.”
He held up a finger on point. “Yes, but tomatoes make marinara for lasagna, spaghetti, and baked ziti.”
“Oh, I see now,” Kyle teased. “Note to self: veggies only in high-carb pasta dishes for Forrester.”
“And lettuce, tomato, and onion for a cheeseburger.”
“So next time I should get McDonald’s?”
“If Ma doesn’t make something, I always get McDonald’s for breakfast. They know my order without asking.”
“Really?” Kyle scrunched up his face in disgust.
Laughing, he picked out a green pepper for Jasper, who practically snapped his fingers off for it. “Yeah, the grease keeps you regular.”
Kyle groaned. “That’s so gross. Didn’t you tell me your grandfather and dad both died of heart attacks? Don’t you worry about eating that junk?”
“You sound like my mother.”
“Smart woman.” He held up a mug in question. “How do you take your coffee?”
“Lots of cream and lots of sugar.”
He sniffed a laugh. “I should’ve guessed.”
The coffee, like Kyle, was perfect. The vegetable omelet tasted pretty good too. Once he doused it with ketchup. Poor Jasper didn’t get as much of it as he’d hoped. They ate in companionable silence, holding hands as if they had been together forever. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so at ease with someone so quickly.
Forrester followed him to the sink to wash their dishes, letting his hand linger on the small of Kyle’s back. “You got plans today?”
“I was going to plant my flowers, but the weather isn’t cooperating. Don’t you have plans?”
“Nope.” Forrester glanced out the window into Kyle’s little backyard. The rain was still coming down, but not as torrential as last night. He grinned at Kyle. “I was planning a lazy Sunday curled up with a good book. Care to join me?”
Kyle grinned too. “I know just the book.”
As Kyle put the disgruntled Jasper in his kennel—he would give them no peace if he were free—Forrester retrieved the book from the laundry room. He headed for the stairs, but Kyle halted him with an “Ah-ah! We’ll read in the living room like civilized people.”
Grinning, Forrester followed him. They sat on the love seat, Forrester positioning himself sideways so Kyle could sit in front of him and between his legs.
Kyle put his feet up and cuddled back into Forrester’s arms. “I haven’t had story time in years.”
Forrester chuckled and gave him a squeeze. He opened the book. “Ever read a book as foreplay?”
“Can’t say as I have.”
“Me neither. How many pages before the sex starts?”
“Page four or five? Aren’t you going to read it from the beginning?”
“Nope, I wanna get to the good parts,” Forrester said.
“Impatient, impatient.”
If this book was as hot as advertised, it wouldn’t take long before reading led to fucking. And after discovering Kyle’s offer to sleep over had been far more significant than mere sex—though that had been amazing—Forrester longed to be connected to Kyle again, to solidify what was already building between them.
Forrester held the book in front of them and speed-read the first couple of pages. “Lonely bear in the woods, taking a bath all by himself,” he summarized for Kyle. “Woah! Here we go.” He began to read, surprised by his husky voice. “The village was busy this time of year, so I hadn’t had a chance to be alone in some time. I immediately took my cock in hand, stroking myself to erection. My shaft was long and thick, warm beneath my fingers. At night, alone, I dreamed of having a cock like mine—or even bigger—inside me. They were never big enough.” He chuckled. “Well, I don’t know about that.”
Kyle giggled with nervous excitement.
Forrester read on. “I tugged on my nipples, pulling them until they were aching and hard. Grunting, I shifted to the edge of the bank, opening my legs so I could play with my asshole while I imagined being stuffed with a bigger cock than the one in my hand.”
Kyle traced a finger down Forrester’s arm then up and down Forrester’s thigh. When he moved, Forrester was more than aware of the heat of Kyle’s body leaning against him. Inside his khakis, his cock throbbed.
Smiling, he shifted until he had one knee up and Kyle’s bottom pressed against his groin. He thrust a little, dreaming about making Kyle feel as good as he’d made Forrester feel last night.
“Keep reading,” Kyle said.
“Where were we?”
“The guy was about to finger his ass.”
“Jeez,” he said, trembling. He found the page but couldn’t concentrate long enough to make sense of the words because Kyle’s fingers were toying with his inner thigh and making his insides flutter and ache.
“Am I distracting you?” Kyle shifted and took the book, his eyes alight with mischief. He studied the page, then turned it. “Here ya go, bright light, spaceship, green alien, and now: My gaze traveled down the corded muscles of his torso, and much to my surprise, I saw three long shafts hanging above a large smooth ball sac. Arousal began to burn within me, and my mouth watered. I was already fully erect, and my cock ached to come. The green man with three cocks saw this and smiled. He took a cock in each of his hands and began to stroke them, leaving one neglected in the middle. He came toward me, and I fell to my knees, knowing what I had to do.”
Forrester groa
ned. “Enough.” He took the book and dropped it to the floor. He was already so primed his ears were throbbing with the static of his pulse. He turned Kyle’s upper body so he could kiss him.
“Too much stimuli for you?” Kyle asked.
“You’re too much stimuli.”
With very little effort he had Kyle’s shirt off and him on his back. Smiling, he undid the button on Kyle’s pants and slowly, teasingly, slid the zipper down.
Mmmm, black boxers.
When he revealed the bulge, he palmed it, running up the warm length. Kyle thrust into the touch, and a visceral jolt shot through Forrester’s body.
“I know we just had breakfast, but I’m still hungry.” Forrester kissed his way down Kyle’s body, in no hurry, sucking at his nipples along the way.
“Well, by all means, help your—oh!” His words ended in a cry of surprise as Forrester mouthed the ample swell still hidden beneath those boxers.
Forrester inhaled the savory scent and a sudden flash of heat and desire whipped through him. Touching Kyle still felt new and exciting.
But it also felt as easy as if they’d done it a million times.
Had Kyle been feeling the same connection Forrester had from the beginning? Was that why Kyle trusted him last night?
When he looked up, their eyes met. Needing to be more connected, Forrester reached for Kyle’s hand and laced their fingers together. He brought them to his lips and kissed them. “I miss you so much when you leave the bookstore. Like you’re leaving on a long trip and I might never see you again. Is that weird?”
“No, it’s beautiful.”
“Sei bellissimo.” Forrester caressed his chest, kissed his stomach. “That means you’re beautiful,” he translated, wondering if reading lips in a foreign language was odd for Kyle.
Kyle stroked Forrester’s cheek, and their eyes locked. “I miss you when I leave too.” He placed Forrester’s hand over Kyle’s own chest, flat over his heart. “In here.”
Overcome with emotions he didn’t yet fully understand, Forrester whispered, “Then don’t ever leave.”
“Hey, batter, batter! Sa-wing, batter!” began to play from Forrester’s back pocket.
Groaning, he dropped his head onto Kyle’s stomach.
Fucking cell phones.
“Let it go to voicemail,” Kyle murmured, cupping Forrester’s head and thrusting his hips in invitation as the chant repeated. “We haven’t even got to the good part of the story.”
“I can’t. That ringer is my brother Tony. I didn’t return his calls last night. If I don’t answer, he’ll just keep calling.” Reluctantly he climbed off Kyle’s warm body and answered his phone. “Whaddaya want?”
“Is that how you answer the phone? Jeez, get some manners.”
“I’m busy, Tony. Spit it out.”
Kyle slipped behind him and did something sinful on Forrester’s neck with his mouth, then rubbed his face against him like a cat, inhaling.
“Ma needs you to get hamburger buns,” Tony told him. “What are you busy doing?”
Kyle reached around to caress Forrester’s cock. He had to cover the cell to hide his groan. He shot Kyle a warning look, but Kyle smiled wickedly, enjoying torturing him. He tried to focus. “Um, what? Hamburger buns? Why?”
“There’s buns right here,” Kyle whispered, tickling his bottom.
Forrester yelped and scooted out of reach.
“What’s going on?” his brother demanded. “Where are you?”
Pushing Kyle’s naughty hands away, he stood, his boner pretty much wilted now. “Never mind that. What do you want?”
Kyle stretched out on the couch, his naked chest and unbound jeans like something out of a wet dream. Stroking his erection through his boxers, Kyle taunted him, sliding the waistband low enough to reveal a tuft of blond curls.
Forrester let the phone drop from his ear to watch, hoping Kyle would go lower, free that thick, swollen cock. Just a little bit more….
His brother’s bucket mouth snapped him back to attention. “Hamburger. Buns. Speak any English? Ma needs ’em. And get the right brand. You know which ones Ma likes. When are you getting here? Dino and I wanna play some poker in the garage.”
Making hungry little sounds, Kyle fondled himself over the fabric, enjoying it far more than he should without Forrester. “Um… I… uh, I have plans this afternoon.”
“You rat bastard, you forgot, didn’t you?”
Some blood managed to make it from his genitals back to his brain at his brother’s sudden irritable tone. “Forgot what?”
“Why should I even tell you? You live at home, but you’re never there. And you haven’t been around to see Baby Anthony either.” Tony’s first child had been born in February.
Kyle slid his hand into his boxers and began stroking in earnest, and Forrester went rigid with need. He loved watching a man jerk off. When Forrester saw the swollen head of his cock above his waistband, he groaned.
Tony said something, but Forrester’s pulse pounded so loudly in his temples, he didn’t hear a word. Transfixed, he watched Kyle writhe on the couch, one hand buried inside his boxers and the other trailing up his stomach to pinch his nipples.
“You like that?” Kyle whispered.
Forrester nodded dumbly as Kyle ran his fingers up his neck and twined them through his rumpled blond hair. He pulled on his dick and threw his head back, bowing off the couch with a hiss.
Forrester could barely think with all his blood rushing to his groin as he watched Kyle. But he figured he should say something to Tony. He swallowed hard, praying his voice wouldn’t sound choked. “Um, I’ve got a lotta stuff….” Kyle had both hands on his shaft now, one inside and one on top of the boxers, stroking faster and faster. Still, he’d yet to reveal more than a peekaboo of tip. Forrester mumbled, “Stuff to do… you know with the store and everything…. So I don’t… uh….”
“Family comes first, Frankie.”
Forrester didn’t have a comeback, not with the indecent way Kyle moaned. “Uh…?” he said, shaking his head. “What?”
“What’s wrong with you?” Tony asked. “You sound like you’re drunk. I can’t believe you’re drunk on Mother’s Day.”
That got his attention. “Mother’s Day?”
“Drunk or not, you better be here by noon, capisci? Don’t forget the buns.” He hung up.
Forrester gestured to the heavens with a why me? in Italian. “Perché io?”
“What’s wrong?” Kyle stopped his show, concern flitting over his face.
“It’s Mother’s Day.”
Kyle made a funny face. “You didn’t know?”
Forrester sniffed. Well, now he understood why Kyle had gotten sad and lonely thinking about his mother yesterday. And didn’t Nonna always say to plant flowers on Mother’s Day? I’m such an idiot. “No, I didn’t know. And I didn’t even get my mother a gift yet.”
“You better get moving on it,” Kyle told him.
But seeing Kyle, all shirtless and alluring, he tossed his phone on the coffee table and dove on top of him. “I can be late.”
Kyle threw back his head, laughing. “No, no,” he insisted, pushing on Forrester’s chest. “Go be with your mom. It’s important. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.” Kyle smiled, stroking Forrester’s cheek. “Why don’t you come back over when you’re finished? We can pick up where we left off?”
“Deal.” With that, he reluctantly climbed off the sexy man. “But you gotta put your shirt back on or I won’t be leaving.”
Laughing, Kyle found his T-shirt.
“I don’t even know what to get my mom. Flowers?”
“No, you’re late. Jewelry.”
Chapter Ten
FORRESTER PARKED his black Ford Ranger by the curb of his childhood home. Kids usually played ball in the street like he and his brothers used to, but today everyone had been safely ensconced in their cozy two- or three-bedroom houses due to the rai
n. Identical houses all squished beside one another, hunkered down against the spring showers, separated by driveways made of two strips of concrete.
For the moment, serenity reigned in the small Shiloh neighborhood.
A strange mix of apprehension and happiness always swirled through Forrester when he came home. So many memories were priceless and wonderful, but haunting whispers of prejudice lingered in the corners of his mind.
Even after all these years, he couldn’t erase them.
After a stop at the jewelry store, he bought the proper hamburger buns and some candy for Nonna and the kids. The rain fell lighter now, but it still came down at a steady pace. Tony, Dino, and one of his cousins on Ma’s side, Jake, stood in the open garage, nursing their beers around a smoking charcoal grill. All the men tried to escape to “Ford Country,” aka the garage, during family get-togethers. After grabbing the hamburger buns and his gifts, he pulled the hood of his sweatshirt over his head and dashed up the driveway, his sandal-clad feet splashing in the puddles.
In the shelter of the garage, a TV broadcasted a baseball game from its perch on the workbench, haphazard tools piled around it along with the remains of a card game. Old hot-rod calendars, some with bikini girls and/or cars, hung between Ford emblems, tin beer signs, and metal cabinets loaded with tools.
Inside two of the cabinets were a few topless lady posters from the late eighties Dad always thought Ma didn’t know about.
While his brothers had ogled them with teenage glee, those stupid posters had caused Forrester many nights of anxiety and confusion while he tried to understand why he was so different.
Gaze locked on the screen, Jake gave Forrester a cursory wave. Tony was grilling, and Dino had the hood of the Fastback up. He’d told Forrester something was squealing, but he hadn’t figured out what.
Completely original in classic Shelby colors, Wimbledon white with dark blue rocker stripes and the offset LeMans racing stripes, the car was beautiful, always drawing a crowd and high-dollar offers when they took it to car shows. But the brothers would never part with it.
“Look who bothered to show up.” As Tony turned the hamburgers, the grease sizzled, sending flames and smoke shooting into the air. He had a beer in his hand and a slight sheen on his face from the rain and heat of the grill. His almost-black hair was cut high and tight, military style. He set the flipper aside and gave Forrester a one-armed hug and a back slap without setting down his beer.
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