When Alex Was Bad

by Davis, Jo

  “I’m not in the home, I’m outside.”

  “Smart-ass, you know what I mean. Get down from there now.”

  “Ooh, have a bossy side, do we?”

  “When I need to, yes. Olivia—”

  “All right, keep your shorts on.” Starting down the ladder, she waggled her eyebrows at him over her shoulder. “Or perhaps not.”

  His amused rumble tickled every female hormone in her body as he took her arm, helping her down. He waved a hand at his lower half. “What, you don’t like my new threads?”

  “Depends,” she said, wiping her hands on her khaki shorts. “Does this mean you’ve given up skinny-dipping?”

  He grinned. “Of course not, but a guy can’t walk around naked all the time.”

  “Pity.” Damn, the man was adorable. All male, and maybe a bit older than she’d first believed.

  “Let me get that,” he said, indicating the feeder.

  In two minutes, Jason had the thing down, filled with seed and hung in place again. She took advantage of ogling his fine backside. The way his trunks were slung low on his hips, the material hugging his tight ass. The muscles in his lean back flexing and bunching . . . exactly the way they would when he drove into his lover.

  Finished, he stowed the bag of seed and the ladder in the garage and returned, his gaze devouring her from head to toe.

  “I finally made it to the store. Thought I’d come over and ask if you’d like to sit on my patio and share a bottle of wine,” he said, his voice low and sensual.

  The invitation, both spoken and implied, enveloped her in a fog of need. Not just sexual, but for closeness. Companionship. As necessary as it had seemed, turning down Alex last night had left her feeling out of sorts. Lonely.

  Well, Alex sure wasn’t lonely these days, and she saw no reason why she should be, either.

  “I’d like that very much.”

  Jason held out his hand, and she took it. His grip was warm and strong, and he smelled fantastic. Spicy with a hint of manly aftershave, a scent that never failed to drive her wild.

  Next door, he led her to a pair of loungers. In between, on a small, round glass table were two wineglasses. “Get comfortable, and I’ll be right back.”

  “Pretty sure of my answer, were you?” she teased.

  “Hopeful,” he corrected, ducking his head with a shy smile. He disappeared, returning in moments with a bottle and opener. “Is Merlot okay with you?”

  “Wonderful.” He wriggled out the cork and poured, handing her a glass. She took a sip, enjoying the rich, dark flavor. “Mmm, that’s great.”

  “And much needed after the week I’ve had.” He settled in his lounger with his own glass, taking a deep draw of wine, then resting it on his thigh. “I’m done with the lawyers, thank God. Talk about an exercise in frustration!”

  “Tell me about it,” she commiserated, trying to keep a straight face. “Alex is a lawyer.”

  “Well, shit. Stuck my foot right in it, didn’t I?” He made a face.

  She giggled. “I couldn’t resist. Believe me, Alex has heard all the jokes. He’s a damned fine criminal defense attorney, but sometimes when he tells people, by the way they react, you’d think he told them he’s a drug lord instead.”

  “I didn’t mean to sound like that. It’s been a tough week dealing with my uncle’s estate, cleaning his stuff out of the house. God, listen to me—I’m whining.”

  “You’re entitled. It’s an awful, sad task for one person to face,” she said softly. “If you’d like help with the rest, I’d be glad to lend a hand.”

  “You have no idea how much the offer means to me,” he replied, lips curving upward. “I’ve about got it licked, but thanks. Now I can simply bask in my lovely neighbor’s company. Did you think I’d changed my mind about participating in you and your husband’s . . . adventure?”

  She took another sip of wine, eyeing him over the top of her glass. “The thought occurred to me. Change of heart?”

  “No. You?”

  “Absolutely not. I can’t wait for you to meet Alex.” She bit her lip, wondering how delicate to be in broaching the particu lars. “Why don’t you tell me your preferences? I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings about what gives you pleasure.”

  He grinned, her concern seeming to make him happy. “I’ve always preferred men. Though recently, I’ve discovered the joy to be found in being with a gorgeous, passionate woman. I’m a natural submissive, and there isn’t much I won’t do.”

  “Wow, you’re almost too perfect. What’s the catch? Are you a wanted criminal or something?”

  His humor slipped, face paling. “Sorry?”

  “Kidding, Jase.” Wary, she noted the fear in his brown eyes. “Jeez, you’re not on the run, are you?”

  He paused, looked away. “From a rather bad breakup, Olivia, but not from the law,” he whispered. “I swear it to you.”

  His statement held the ring of truth. Reaching over, she patted his bare shoulder in sympathy. “I’m sorry. Want to talk about it?”

  “I can’t yet. I hope you understand.”

  “Of course I do. I’m here whenever you need me.”

  “Thanks, I—”

  Whatever he’d been about to say was interrupted by the sound of a car pulling into the driveway next door. Alex’s car! She couldn’t recall when he’d last come home early on a Friday afternoon, and said so to Jason, who sent her a mischievous smile.

  “Looks like the day just got more intriguing. Good thing I have plenty of wine.”

  Alex climbed out of the car, tired and annoyed. Liv had left the three-car garage wide open, an invite for burglars to help themselves. Dammit to hell.

  He almost turned back for his briefcase before remembering he’d left it at the office, on purpose for a rare change. He’d canceled his last two appointments on the way out the door and given his delighted secretary the rest of the afternoon off, as well.

  He had no idea whether Jenna was in her office, and hadn’t sought her out. For some reason, getting out of there without seeing her was important to him. Oh, he wasn’t afraid of raising eyebrows. He was fucking her, and that was his and Jenna’s business.

  Rather, he needed Jenna to know he wasn’t sitting around like a lapdog, waiting obediently for her to pat him on the head. So to speak.

  Whatever. His mood bordered on homicidal as he strode inside, yelling for Liv. Silence answered, so he jogged upstairs. Their bedroom stood empty, as well, and he frowned in puzzlement. Her car was here, the garage open. Where else could she be?

  Ordering himself not to panic, he pushed outside, onto the balcony. . . . And spotted her. Next door, on Bill’s patio. Relaxing and drinking wine with a nearly naked man who, he had a sneaking suspicion, was Jason the Superstud.

  Fan-fucking-tastic.

  In his current foul mood, he was sorely tempted to head back inside and sulk. Alone. But he found himself drawn to the cozy scene below. Liv and the man appeared completely at ease. They must’ve heard his car, too. If they’d wanted to exclude him, they’d have gone into the house.

  On impulse, he called out, “Hello! Is that a private party, or can anyone join?”

  They turned as one, smiling up at the balcony as if they’d been waiting for him to make a move.

  “Hey, sweetie!” Liv called back. “Put on something comfortable and come on down!”

  “All right, give me a minute.” Noting the other man’s tanned, toned body clad in nothing except swim trunks, Alex didn’t have to debate too much about what to wear.

  He donned his own trunks, forgoing a shirt or shoes. He wasn’t twenty-something anymore, but he kept himself in shape. He couldn’t avoid getting older, but at least his wife didn’t have to be ashamed of his physical appearance.

  Energized now, he hurried downstairs and outside, across his back lawn and through the gate. At the new neighbor’s gate, he hesitated, battling an unwanted case of nerves. What the fuck did he have to be nervous about?
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br />   Unlatching the gate, he pushed inside. Liv turned, obviously glad to see him, a sight for sore eyes in a pair of cute khaki shorts and a black tank top matching her loose hair. The man rose from his lounger, setting his glass of wine on the table. He started toward Alex, beaming a genuine, welcoming smile. . . . And the world stopped.

  Alex’s breath caught in his throat. The guy was young, fit, all tawny skin and lean muscle. Shoulder-length brown hair streaked from the sun, huge brown eyes. A walking wet dream for anybody’s fantasies, man or woman.

  He was, by far, the most striking man Alex had ever seen.

  The kid stuck out his hand, which Alex automatically shook. “Jason Strickland,” he said. “Bill’s nephew.”

  “Alex Quinn, Liv’s husband. I, um, took off a bit early today.” Duh.

  Jason nodded in understanding. “Had all you could take for one week, huh?”

  “And then some.” The young man still hadn’t let go of his hand. A jolt of sexual awareness hit him in the center of the chest and shot straight to his groin. Jesus, he’d never had such a strong reaction to another man before! He shifted and gently tugged his hand from Jason’s grip, hoping his burgeoning erection hadn’t been noticed.

  If it had, no one let on. Instead, Jason played the gracious host, fetching another wineglass from the kitchen, pouring a healthy amount for Alex, and then dragging over another lounger. They rearranged themselves in a semicircle so they wouldn’t have to lean over and talk across one another. Alex was glad, because it gave him the chance to study Jason and Liv at the same time.

  “So, Jason, what do you do?”

  The question was a typical, harmless icebreaker, but it clearly took his new neighbor by surprise. From the way Liv’s curious gaze snapped to the younger man, she was interested in the answer, too.

  “I . . . nothing much, at the moment,” he hedged. “I was telling Olivia that I’m here recouping from a bad breakup. I’m planning to take it easy for a while, get my bearings. Decide whether I’ll stay in St. Louis or not.”

  Evasive, Alex thought. Nothing much could mean Jason was either a typical bored, unemployed underachiever, or a serial felon.

  Or he could be what he seemed: a perfectly nice, educated young man at loose ends.

  Alex had a feeling the truth lay somewhere in the middle.

  Deciding to play a little hardball, he pinned the young man with a steely look. “Find anything yet that might keep you here, Jason?”

  To his credit, the kid remained cool under pressure. Didn’t budge an inch. Jason swirled the wine in his glass, lips tilted up, catlike. “I believe I have, Alex.”

  Liv’s blue eyes rounded, darting back and forth between the two men. Alex gave Jason a feral grin, his dick swelling in his trunks. This was like the adrenaline flooding his veins in the courtroom while cross-examining a witness. But way better.

  “St. Louis has a lot to offer.”

  “Oh, I’m discovering new delights every single day.” Jason lowered his lashes, sending Alex a sultry look. “You know, the Arch, Busch Stadium, the casino boats . . . ”

  “You’re a gambler, are you?” he asked. No way could his dual meaning be misinterpreted.

  “Sometimes, when I feel lucky.” Jason took a sip of wine, watching him closely.

  Christ, his cock ached. “And do you feel lucky?”

  “Let’s just say I’m due for a change in fortune, and it can’t come soon enough.” The younger man let that statement ride for a moment, and then, as though sensing they were headed for deep water, changed the subject. “So, Olivia tells me you’re a defense lawyer? I’ll bet you have some great stories to tell.”

  The strange sexual tension broken, Alex launched into recollections of some of his most memorable cases. Afternoon melted into evening, and two more bottles of Merlot bit the dust. Alex was drifting in a mellow sea of contentment. So much that it took his brain a second to catch up with Jason’s question.

  “So, how’s Henry Boardman’s defense coming?”

  “Wh-what did you say?”

  “You are Boardman’s lawyer, right? Damn, what a creep. Deserves to go to prison, if you ask me.” Jason shuddered for emphasis.

  “Where the fuck did you hear about my defending Boardman?”

  Jason’s dark eyes narrowed. It was probably Alex’s overactive, alcohol-soaked mind that conjured the cold rage on the younger man’s handsome face.

  “Must’ve read it in the paper, Alex.” He picked up a bottle, poured another Merlot. Saluted Alex with his glass.

  “Oh. Right.” He wasn’t surprised that Jason had read about the upcoming trial so much as the abrupt way he brought up the subject. What was that about?

  “Here’s to freedom of information. Life’s a bitch, ain’t it?”

  Alex lay in the darkness, listening to Liv’s even breathing. Too much wine had put her out like a light, but the alcohol had left him aroused, cock aching, tension coiling every muscle. Sleep was elusive as his thoughts churned, his mind replaying every nuance of his conversation with Jason.

  To be honest, it wasn’t just the wine playing havoc with his libido. Sure, he’d found men attractive. But never before had he thought a man could be so alluring, so sexy he wanted to taste and explore. To push the man to his back, spread him, and have his way.

  Never before had he imagined such a scenario within his reach.

  Restless, Alex slipped from the bed quietly, careful not to awaken Liv. Groping at the foot of the bed, he found a pair of shorts and pulled them on, then headed downstairs. For a few seconds, he considered turning on the television, but discarded that idea. A late-night rerun wasn’t going to come close to satisfying the burn between his legs.

  Lured by some force he didn’t take time to understand, he went out onto the patio and stood, letting the cool evening breeze waft over him, enjoying the night sounds, the stars. There was something very seductive about stealing out here, wearing nothing but shorts, the air licking his half-naked body like a tongue. Knowing he could indulge in a fantasy to quench the lust consuming him and nobody would know.

  Smiling to himself, he padded to his favorite lounger and moved it to face his neighbor’s house. He sat down and sprawled out, not caring that his view of Jason’s patio was mostly blocked by the fence. He could still picture the way Jason had looked earlier—young and lean with too-long brown hair, dark, seductive eyes. Verbally parrying with Alex, his comments ripe with innuendo.

  “Jesus, I want him,” Alex whispered to no one. He wanted his wife’s lover.

  And if he couldn’t have him right now . . .

  Alex unzipped his shorts and pushed them down on his hips, freeing his erection. His fist closed around the throbbing shaft and he sucked in a breath as he gave it a slow stroke from the head to the base. Up again.

  God, that felt so wicked. Especially as he imagined Jason walking over here to kneel at his side, stroke his belly, run those capable hands over his thighs. The younger man would take Alex’s cock between his sensual lips and suckle, taking him deeper.

  Alex groaned, pumped his cock harder, his dream lover bobbing on over his lap. Eating him, taking him deep down that beautiful throat—

  At that moment, Alex caught a movement from next door. Saw a lean figure standing half in the shadows of the neighboring patio, moonlight glinting off his brown hair. Jason.

  Sweet Christ, he’s watching!

  “Please, don’t let me stop you,” drifted from the darkness, so quiet the voice barely carried.

  Alex went up like a flamethrower. Just like that. The object of his fantasy was nearby, enjoying the show, and even if Jason didn’t know this was about him before, he was part of it now.

  Spreading his legs wider, he thrust his hips upward with a helpless moan, gaze trained on the spot where Jason stood immobile. No phantom lover but flesh-and-blood man, connected with him in the moment, a coconspirator of sorts in this naughty, wanton act.

  Faster and faster, Alex worked his cock in steady r
hythm, until his body quickened, balls tightening. The familiar rush enveloped him, swept him over the edge.

  “Yes! Oh, shit!”

  He came hard, splashing his bare stomach with liquid heat, shuddering again and again until he was spent. Panting, cock in hand, he wondered when the embarrassment would hit. The guilt at being caught like this, perving over Jason whether the man realized it or not.

  Neither happened. His desire wasn’t wrong, not when all parties were on the same page, and he couldn’t feel bad about it. He wouldn’t.

  Still, he wasn’t sure what to say to Jason, how to smooth over a potentially awkward second meeting. Did a man simply say “I beg your pardon” for jacking off in his own backyard? While thinking dirty thoughts about the neighbor in question, no less?

  “Damn,” he said, tucking himself into his shorts once more. He needed to go inside and get washed off, but first . . . “Jason?”

  He peered into the darkness, but the figure was no longer there. Like a ghost, he’d vanished, leaving Alex to wonder whether he’d been real at all.

  Another Mad Monday.

  A quiet, relatively normal weekend at home had succumbed to the craziness of a new week. Even so, Alex had managed to steal a few minutes alone here and there to reflect on Liv and Jason.

  Friday evening had been awesome. Sitting by Jason’s pool, drinking wine, shooting the breeze and watching the world go by. Sexual heat had stretched taut between the three of them, but they’d chosen not to act on it. Well, except for the stolen few moments when Jason had watched Alex pleasuring himself. In the long run, he knew their restraint would make their eventual encounters all the sweeter.

  He could hardly wait. This was different from the combustive—almost destructive—obsession he’d developed for Jenna. He couldn’t have articulated how; it just was.

  “Jesus, you’re a frickin’ mess,” he muttered to himself, stepping into the men’s room down the hall from his office.

  “I’ll say.”

  A little jolt of adrenaline zapped his system and he jumped as though he’d been goosed. Casting a glare at Kyle over his shoulder, he unzipped to take care of business. “Damn, don’t sneak up on me like that.”