by Petrova, Em
That was something he’d have to rectify, and soon.
Chapter Seventeen
Pulling reluctantly away from their god-I’ve-missed-you-it’s-been-a-while kiss, Wilkes smiled and held Balkhi at arm’s length. “Much as I like where that kiss is leading, there’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”
Frowning, Balkhi nodded. “Okay. Let us go into the living room. Would you like a drink?”
“Not just yet. This is important.” The last thing he wanted to do was worry Balkhi, but their respective commitments meant they hadn’t been able to see each other for a couple of weeks, so the topic had already been burning away in his brain for far too long, and it wasn’t something he’d wanted to discuss over the phone.
Wordlessly, Balkhi turned and walked into the living room, and took a seat. He waited for Wilkes to sit, then raised his eyebrows expectantly. “Well, Hugh, what is it? Is everything all right?”
Nodding, Wilkes said, “Yes, everything is fine. I’m sorry I’m only just telling you this now, but there are some things I prefer to discuss with you face to face, rather than over the phone.”
“You are worrying me now. Has something happened?” Balkhi wrung his hands together, and his brown eyes were wide.
“Yes, but it’s nothing bad, I promise. Please, just let me tell you.”
Balkhi inclined his head.
“When I got back to base that night after dropping you off at Salisbury station when we’d visited my parents, I ended up bumping into one of my buddies. Do you remember Tom Wolfe? He was in charge of the FOB before I arrived.”
“Yes. We did not meet, but I know who you mean. Juma Zazai was translating for him.” Sorrow flitted over his face at the mention of his late friend.
“That’s right. Well, as you know, he’s a pretty good mate of mine, and we got chatting. He asked why I hadn’t been around much, and kept pressing me for information. I’d already decided I was going to tell my colleagues about us as soon as the moment was right, and then him being so nosey created that moment. We spoke in private, and I told him. I had to lie a little bit, and say that nothing happened between us until we got back to the UK, but otherwise he knows I’m gay, and that I am with you. He was absolutely fine with it.”
“Okay. That is good.”
“It is very good. My conversation with him got me thinking, though. I was feeling lighter and lighter after having told my family, then Wolfe, and planning to tell others, too. I was happy that people knew, that they accepted you. I was also grateful you had been there for me when I told my family, and that you all got on so well. But it made me realise that, although my life and relationships were becoming easier, more honest, yours wasn’t. Your situation with your family and friends is just the same as it was when you left Afghanistan. And I wondered how you felt about that, whether there was anything you wanted to talk to me about, or anything I could do to help?”
There was a long silence. Balkhi scrubbed his hands over his hair—which had grown a little long and was going a tad curly. Wilkes had no intention of mentioning it, though—he liked it that way, and didn’t want to put the idea of a haircut into Balkhi’s head.
Then, letting out a sigh, Balkhi finally spoke. “I appreciate this sentiment, Hugh. Very much. But I am resigned to the situation I have with my family and friends back home. Just because of what I have done for the British Army, I cannot risk visiting them—for their safety as well as my own. It makes me very sad, but I am hoping that when I have finished my medical training and get a job as a doctor, I will have enough money to fly some of them over here. If and when that happens, I will have to think about telling them about us. But at the moment, I do not see any reason. I do not want to tell them something like this over Skype. It is not fair. They will find it very difficult to understand, too, and I do not want to give them the opportunity to hang up while I am talking to them. At least if we are in the same room I can explain until they understand. I am still not sure if they will, but they cannot run away from me.”
Wilkes’ heart lurched uncomfortably. He was torn between feeling devastated for Balkhi’s situation, and being pleased that he’d encouraged Balkhi to confide in him. Although it looked as though he wasn’t able to do anything to help, he was glad to be able to listen, and maybe provide some comfort. “Rustam, I’m so sorry.”
“For what?” he replied, confusedly.
“For you. For this situation. I’m sorry if bringing it up has upset you. That was never my intention. I just wanted you to know that I am here for you, whatever happens, and whatever you decide you want to do.”
Balkhi gave a small smile. “Thank you. I appreciate that. And you have not upset me. I admit that the other weekend with your family brought the situation to the front of my mind, but I do not blame you. Our backgrounds are different, our cultures are different, our families are different. That is neither of our faults. I am very glad that you have told the people important to you, and that everyone has responded well. Knowing you are happy and lighter of heart makes me very happy. And right now, that is all that matters.
“Because of the choice I made to work with the British Army, I cannot go home, not for a very long time, if ever. So, as far as I am concerned, England is my permanent home. I like it here. I am making friends, I am enjoying my studies, and I have a goal I am aiming towards. I do get sad about my family situation sometimes, especially when I have Skyped with someone from back home, but mostly I am so busy with working towards my future, our future that I do not have time to think about it. I am fine, Hugh. I have everything I want—a roof over my head, food in my belly, an education... and you.”
Wilkes had listened avidly to every word from Balkhi’s mouth, and with each one was reminded why he’d fallen for the man in the first place, and, if possible, by the time he’d finished speaking, grown to love him even more. He didn’t know how it was possible for someone to be so sensible when it came to matters of family and friends, but he admired him for his approach to keeping everyone safe, and not taking unnecessary risks.
If, indeed, Balkhi was content with his life as it was, then Wilkes would do his utmost to ensure he stayed that way. He’d bend over backwards to make him happy; happier. And Balkhi had no reason to lie—Wilkes couldn’t fully understand the ins and outs of Balkhi’s culture, but he had a much better grasp than the average British citizen. So, he’d continue to do what he’d promised: he’d be there for Balkhi, whatever happened, and whatever Balkhi decided to do. Even if that was nothing.
Moving closer, Wilkes took Balkhi’s hand. “I’m glad you feel that way. I do, too. I don’t know exactly what our future will hold, but as long as we’re together, it doesn’t matter to me where we are, or what we’re doing. Phew!” He let out a breath. “It’s been an emotional few weeks, hasn’t it? All that talk about taking small steps, and we’ve gone out together in Soho, told my family, you’ve met my family, and I’ve come out to my friends and most of my colleagues. I guess all that’s left is for you to meet my colleagues—though not Hunter, of course. Oh, and maybe for us to hold hands in the street wherever we are—not just Soho.”
“You don’t want to kiss in the street?”
Wilkes gave a wry grin. “If you pounced on me I wouldn’t push you away, ‘cos you’re irresistible, but I’m not really into public displays of affection—gay or otherwise.”
“That is okay. I am not, either. I believe that sort of thing is private, an expression of love between two people, to be enjoyed fully without worrying if someone is watching, if they are judging.”
“You are incredibly wise for your years, Rustam.”
“You have told me that before.”
“I have? Well, I must be right then. Have I told you you’re handsome before?”
“Many times.”
“Can I tell you again?”
“No. You can show me.” Balkhi stood, still holding Wilkes’ hand, and led him out of the living room, along the hall and into the bedroom. Releasi
ng Wilkes’ hand, Balkhi crossed to the window and drew the curtains, as Wilkes closed the door.
Turning back to the room, Wilkes watched, dry-mouthed, as Balkhi began to undress. He felt as though every part of him was reacting: all his physical reactions were usual—heart racing, blood rushing, cock stiffening, balls aching...
But his mind and soul seemed to be equally invested in the moment. As he observed Balkhi’s beautiful form, now naked and clambering onto the bed, he felt truly content. He was a man in love, yes, but he meant what he’d said—he didn’t really care about anything else, as long as he and Balkhi were together. They fit together so well, physically, emotionally, intellectually... perfect, in every way.
Hurriedly, he took off his own clothes, crossed over to the bed, and joined his lover. “Rustam?”
“Yes?”
Gripping the back of Balkhi’s neck and pulling so their faces were so close that they were bathed in each other’s warm breath, he said, “I love you. I don’t know if you believe in this sort of thing, but I believe you are my soul mate.”
“Even if I did not believe in it, I do now. You have made me believe it, Hugh. I love you.”
The huge grin that took over Wilkes’ face was smothered as their lips met in a heated kiss, but it didn’t lessen the emotion that went with it. He was insanely happy, and it was all down to one man. Together, they could overcome anything that life threw at them. But whatever life threw, it wouldn’t matter anyway. Not as long as they had each other.
THE END
About the Author
Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of, and an Amazon bestseller) and Eyes Wide Open (winner of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award, and an Amazon bestseller). Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 140 publications to her name. She owns Erotica For All, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more about her writing at http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk, or on Twitter and Facebook. You can also subscribe to her monthly newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9
If You Enjoyed Desert Heat & Native Tongue
Love on Location
Blurb:
When Theo Samuels heads off to film on location in the village of Stoneydale, he’s expecting drama to take place on camera, not off. But when he meets gorgeous local lad, Eddie Henderson, he struggles to ignore his attraction. A relationship between the two of them would be utterly impractical, yet they’re drawn together nonetheless. Can they overcome the seemingly endless hurdles between them? Or is their fling destined to remain as just that?
Note: Love on Location has been previously released as part of the Brit Boys: On Boys boxed set.
More info and buy links here.
LONGING FOR YOU
Kelli McCracken
To Tracy,
For your unwavering friendship
Prologue
The metallic taste of blood filled Theo’s mouth as he swiped his tongue across his lower lip. He didn’t need this shit today, not after the hell he and Jonah went through to get the gig at The Southern Way nightclub. The last thing he wanted was to show up sporting a swollen lip—or a black eye—which would be the case if Parker Pearson swung at him again.
What he wanted was to render Parker unconscious with one quick but powerful punch in the mouth. He would do just that if he weren’t already in a shit-ton of trouble with his old man. Getting into a fight before the gig guaranteed one thing. He wouldn’t get to go. It sucked being on the edge of eighteen, almost an adult, but still living at home and forced to abide by rules.
No way was he missing a chance to perform. If he and the guys were ever going to get discovered, it would be at The Southern Way. He owed this to Jonah. His big brother had always stuck up for him but was the first to kick his ass if he needed it, and he’d been in dire need of it lately. Jonah got his shit together. So could he.
Then again, Jonah was changing for Ally, whether she realized it or not.
Glaring at his classmate, he fought the urge to lunge at him and grab his throat. Asshole. He was just like the rest of the morons at the high school. All the jocks had a holier-than-thou attitude. Luckily, Theo had a couple more weeks before he could kiss this place a final goodbye, never to walk the halls again.
Of course, he wouldn’t get to see Cassie anymore, which may not be a bad thing considering where he was standing. In reality, he couldn’t blame his current predicament on her when he would come to the defense of any other girl at this school. God knows Parker made his rounds, using his athleticism and popularity to get what he wanted, from as many girls as he wanted.
Cassie was one of the few that rebuffed him. What a beautiful moment it had been, too. He loved every second of seeing her size up Parker before she went into a rather comical explanation of why she would rather dance in a mound of fire ants, butt naked and drenched in molasses, than go out with him.
Yet the second Parker gripped her arm and pushed her against the wall, Theo was finished watching.
This was his fault anyway. If he’d behaved last weekend, Parker wouldn’t be on the hunt for a new babe-of-the-week. They wouldn’t be standing in the hallway, near the cafeteria, arms drawn defensively.
His eyes darted toward the media center where he spotted Cassie. He hated that she was witnessing his humiliation of having another guy smash his fist into his face.
The thought was short-lived. He ducked in time as Parker swung his arm again. “Come on, you chicken shit,” he taunted. “What’s the matter? You afraid of getting your ass whipped in front of the whole school or your little girlfriend?”
When Parker tilted his head in Cassie’s direction, Theo glanced at her again. She’d left the opening to the media center and stepped into the hall. Her head swayed side to side as she looked right then the left. He didn’t doubt she was searching for a teacher or possibly Jonah. Either would stop the altercation between him and the school’s star running back.
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Theo grumbled, but Parker was far from finished.
“No shit, dude. Who’d want to date your sorry, non-talented ass? Has anyone told you that you sound like a donkey braying when you sing?” The slur won him a few laughs from his friends, who hovered nearby. “I’m serious, man. You sound like something that needs to be put out of its misery.”
Theo chuckled, meeting the glare from the prick in front of him, and then the blonde, blue-eyed bombshell sitting at a table not far from where they stood. Becca Holstein was one of the many people watching the confrontation, but Parker’s ex wasn’t staring at him. She was staring at Theo. Perfect.
“Maybe I do sound like shit. Hell, maybe I don’t have any talent. It still doesn’t change facts.”
Parker’s chest puffed out further. “What facts?”
Theo grinned, even though his lip burned from the newly formed split in the center. “Say what you want about me, but it doesn’t change the fact that I wasn’t the one, uh…singing last weekend.”
Parker’s attention went to Becca and then back to Theo. “So you’re the asshole that broke us up?”
“No, you’re the asshole that caused your breakup. I was just the rebound guy. By the way, I loved hearing my name on Becca’s lips when she came.”
Theo didn’t miss the punch Parker threw this time. He didn’t miss the disbelief in Cassie’s eyes as she stood watching, mouth gaping. More importantly, he didn’t miss connecting his fist to Parker’s face once more.
The punch sent his nemesis to the ground, stealing his chance of victory. Consequently, it stole Theo’s as well…
Chapter One
Cassie moved through the air-conditioned antique shop, grateful to be away from the grueling July sun and its sweltering temperatures. She caught a glimpse of her disheveled appearance in a mirror not far from the entrance. The sleek, coppery locks from this morning had become casualties of wa
r, a war that resulted from the saturated air she abandoned behind the door.
Humidity was her enemy, as were Savannah summers. Good thing she didn’t wear much makeup. It would slide off her face faster than a double-scooped ice cream cone in a five-year-old’s hand.
Tucking a frizzy lock behind her ear, she swept the sweat-drenched strands away from her neck, wishing like hell that she’d brought a clip to pin up her hair. Did this shop have a restroom? If so, she’d lock herself inside, yank off her stockings, and shove them in her purse.
While she hated the dress code at work, she didn’t mind being Tom Gerald’s personal assistant. Despite the fact that he resembled a Greek god and had an ass from out of this world, he was fun to work with. He treated her like his equal, not his assistant. She wouldn’t even count all the perks that came with the job. Getting to see any concert that came to town, as well as going to after-parties, were two of her favorite incentives.
Of course, there were days like today, when they had to deal with cranky musicians and overpaid managers. Getting bitched at by a manager wasn’t the highlight of her day. But hearing Tom come to her defense, as well as prove the error was on the manager’s assistant’s end, made up for the embarrassment.
Yet her boss went a step further and gave her the rest of the day off. Accepting his offer wasn’t easy, especially knowing they were getting a new client next week, but now she wouldn’t be rushed this afternoon. In fact, as soon as she left the antique shop, she’d head home, do some laundry, and find something to wear before meeting Ally tonight.
The thought of her best friend made Cassie smile. As she passed by a grandfather clock, she noticed an old armoire against the wall. It resembled the one in her parents’ attic, the same one she and Ally loved to play around when they were kids.
It was hard to believe that Ally had moved back after six years in New York. If they hadn’t kept in touch through phone calls, Internet, and a few girls’ weekends, this evening would have been awkward. But it wasn’t the case.