by Alexa Land
“So how do you know my cousin?” Catherine asked as she plunked herself down on a barstool and crossed her mile-long legs.
“I don’t really. I’m friends with his husband’s ex.”
“His name’s Charlie, right? I’ve heard about him.”
“You actually just winked at him back there.”
“That big, sexy brunette? Damn. I was hoping he played for my team.”
That was as far as we got in our conversation before a tall, buff frat boy type swooped in and asked Catherine to dance. She winked at me and led him to the dance floor as I slid onto her barstool.
That had been incredibly short-lived, but at least she’d rescued me from having to make awkward small talk with Jamie. Not that there was anything wrong with Charlie’s ex-boyfriend, he was a perfectly nice guy. But I was always a bit uncomfortable around him. Maybe it was simple jealousy of the long, complex history he shared with my best friend. Or maybe it was the fact that he used to be a police officer. I wasn’t fond of people in law enforcement, and even though Jamie was nothing like a typical cop, I still found myself tensing up around him.
I turned around and asked for a bottle of water when the bartender came by, then studied the other men at the bar from beneath my lashes. Unlike Catherine, I really wasn’t looking to get laid tonight. My only goal was to make a break for it as soon as I could do so without hurting Charlie’s feelings. He meant well by bringing me along to this party, but this was his world, not mine. I really didn’t belong here.
An incredibly beautiful blonde at the far side of the bar caught my attention. He looked familiar, and I soon realized why. He noticed me looking at him and gave me a friendly smile, then came around to my side of the bar and squeezed in beside me. “Hi,” he said. “How’s it going?”
“Good. You?”
“Doing well, thanks.” He wasn’t hitting on me, he was just being friendly. I knew the difference. “I’m Hunter.”
“I know,” I said with a little smile. Hunter Storm was the most famous gay porn star in San Francisco, and one of the most famous in the U.S. For any gay man to pretend not to recognize him would be like trying to say you never watched porn. Yeah right. “I’m Christopher.”
“Nice to meet you, Christopher. Do you work here at the bar?”
“No, my friend Charlie does. I just kind of got dragged along tonight.”
“Do you know a guy named Cole that works here?”
Suddenly I realized what this guy was doing here. Cole and Charlie worked together, and I’d once heard Cole tell the story of his now famous ex-boyfriend. “I do, but I haven’t seen him tonight.” Hunter looked disappointed. “Were you hoping to run into him?”
“Yeah. I figured he’d be here.”
“Not that it’s any of my business, but didn’t you two have some sort of falling out?”
Hunter grinned at me and tucked a strand of shoulder-length blonde hair behind his ear. “You could say that. He’s talked about it?”
“Just once. He said you two broke up.”
He lowered his gaze and said, “You’re being nice. He probably said I tore his heart out.”
That was exactly right, actually. “Why are you looking for him?”
Hunter shrugged beneath his expensive black leather jacket. “I know he hates me. But, well, it’s Christmas and all. I don’t want us to get back together, we were terrible as a couple, but I just…I miss him, I miss his friendship. So I thought I’d come by and try burying the hatchet. See if maybe the whole peace on Earth, good will toward men thing even extends to ex-boyfriends.”
“If you want to, you can hang out with me until he shows up,” I said.
“I’d like that.” A little table opened up nearby, and we moved over to it. Hunter shot me a flawless smile and said, “So, you obviously know what I do for a living, since you knew my name. What do you do, Christopher?”
“I’m a full-time art student at Sutherlin,” I said. That was only part of the story – the part I actually told people.
“Oh wow, that’s cool. I really admire people in the arts. What’s your area of interest?”
“I’m a painter. Or, you know, I will be when I finish school.”
“That’s awesome. You ever show your work?”
“I actually have some pieces in a show in late January, at the Tremont Gallery.” It still blew me away that I was going to be included in an upcoming new artists show at the most prestigious gallery in the city. That was due to Charlie’s fiancé. Dante was an acquaintance of Ian Tremont, the gallery owner, and had arranged for Ian and me to meet. It was the first time I’d be showing anywhere outside of school, and pretty much a total dream come true.
“Oh my God! You must be amazing. That place only shows the best of the best.”
“I just got lucky.”
“You’re way too modest. For you to be showing at the Tremont Gallery, you’re obviously a big deal.” He fidgeted with the drink in his hand, not meeting my eyes. “Now I’m actually kind of embarrassed.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you know. Given what you do, and given what I do for a living….”
“Oh come on.”
“I’m serious.”
I paused for a moment, then admitted, “I pay for art school by working as a prostitute. You and I both make a living by taking our clothes off, so there’s no judging here.”
His big blue eyes went wide with surprise. “Really?”
“Like I’d make that up.”
He actually visibly relaxed, leaning back in his seat and grinning at me. “Thanks for telling me that.”
“I don’t usually bring it up. But you didn’t have the option of keeping quiet about working in the porn industry, so it was only fair to be honest with you.”
“It’s always so awkward meeting new people,” he said, playing with his glass. “It seems like every gay guy has seen my films, and they all have these preconceived notions of what I’m supposed to be like. They expect perfect little twink Hunter Storm from Man-on-Man Productions, there to fulfill all their fantasies. Not Hunter Jacobs from Idaho, who maybe has a few fantasies of his own. You probably can relate, in your line of work.”
“Definitely.” After a moment I added, “I feel stupid telling you this, but I actually get a lot of work from men calling up my escort service asking for a Hunter Storm type. So, I feel like I should thank you for boosting my income.”
He smiled at me. “God, I’m sorry. It’s bad enough that I have to be Hunter Storm. But now it turns out you do, too. I hope they don’t ask you to recreate any of the super classy scenes from my movies.”
“Sometimes,” I said with a grin, then added, “You know, now that I’ve met you in person I have to say, my clients must be so disappointed.”
“What are you talking about?”
“They’re expecting you and get me, which has to be one hell of a letdown.”
He rolled his eyes at me. “Come on! You’re adorable, Christopher. And you and I could be brothers.”
While it was true that he and I were the same physical type, both in our early twenties and around 5’9 with a slim build, blonde hair and blue eyes, we were like the before and after in some grand makeover. He really was incredibly beautiful, it was no wonder he was so famous. At best, I was kind of cute.
We ended up talking for a couple hours, and after a while he decided Cole was a no-show. “Maybe that’s for the best,” he said. “It’s not like he would have wanted to see me anyway.”
Hunter finished his latest drink – he’d put quite a few whiskey sours away over the course of the evening – and turned to me with a sexy smile and a mischievous look in his eye. “So, Christopher, do you want to get out of here? Maybe go back to my place?” I hadn’t seen that coming. We’d had a pretty strong buddy vibe going to this point, and I hadn’t expected him to hit on me.
I had to think about my answer for a moment. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d had sex for fun
, since I never dated. How could I in my line of work? Who’d be willing to share their boyfriend with countless strangers? I didn’t normally bother with casual sex, either. I was enjoying Hunter’s company, though. And despite my complaints about being dragged to this party, I wasn’t really relishing the thought of spending Christmas Eve alone, so I found myself agreeing to go home with him.
“Let me just find my friend and tell him I’m leaving,” I said as we got up. I craned my neck, looking for Charlie, and Catherine caught my eye and waved at me. She was at a table with the frat boy and a few of his buddies. I also noticed that Jamie and Dmitri were slow-dancing in the middle of the dance floor, kissing tenderly and all wrapped up in each other. Jamie had apparently handed the dog off to someone so he and his husband could cozy up. Charlie, though, was nowhere to be seen. He’d been keeping an eye on me over the course of the evening, flashing me a big smile and a thumbs up when he saw me chatting with Hunter. But then he’d left us alone, probably assuming Hunter and I didn’t want to be interrupted. I hadn’t caught a glimpse of him in over half an hour.
Maybe he and his fiancé were making out in the back. I turned to Hunter and said, “I’ll meet you out front in five minutes, ok?”
“Sure. I’ll try to get us a cab,” he said, shooting me a dazzling smile before pushing into the crowd.
I waded through the mass of bodies and finally arrived at the door marked employees only. I ignored that and went right on through, looking left and right for Charlie. He wasn’t in the employee dressing room, so I stuck my head in Jamie’s office. Also empty.
“Hey.”
I spun in the direction of the voice. A gorgeous guy with short light brown hair and sky blue eyes was coming toward me. He was at least six-two and totally built, the type of guy that probably spent six days a week at the gym. I usually wrote men like that off as a bit vain for my taste. But the fact that this one was wearing the world’s most ridiculous Christmas sweater managed to offset the Wally Workout thing. I mean, how could you think badly of a guy in a Rudolph sweater with the red plastic nose blinking on and off?
“Hey yourself.”
He stopped about a foot away from me. “I’m looking for my cousin. Have you seen him?” Christmas Sweater was clearly drunk off his ass, and grinned at me happily.
“Well, that all depends on who your cousin is.”
“Jamie. It’s his bar, lucky bastard. I wish I owned a bar,” he slurred.
That seemed like the worst idea ever. “You’re extremely drunk,” I pointed out helpfully. “Tell me you aren’t planning to drive home in this condition.”
“No. Drunk driving is bad. Really, really bad.” He leaned a little closer to me, and his grin erupted into a full-blown smile. “Wow, you’re incredibly beautiful.”
“And you’re completely shit-faced.”
“That’s such a gross expression,” he said. He was still smiling down at me.
“True.”
“You know what’s awesome?”
“Beer? Cousins who own bars? Reindeer sweaters?” I guessed.
He laughed at that, swaying a little on his feet. “Well, yes. All of the above. But most of all, the fact that you’re standing right here. Under that.” He pointed toward the ceiling, and I glanced up and saw that Jamie had stapled an absolutely enormous hunk of mistletoe above his office door.
His smile lit up his whole face, his blue eyes sparkling even through the beer buzz. And then in a move showing a lot of finesse for a drunk guy, he scooped me into his arms and tilted me back a little, like a couple in some old movie.
I kind of expected a slobbery peck, but what I got instead was deep and passionate and downright toe-curling. I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders and held on for dear life as this guy, this drunk cousin in a reindeer sweater, delivered the single best kiss of my entire life.
When he finally pulled back, he murmured, “Whoa.” Exactly. And then he said, “Oh man, I feel dizzy.” He swung me upright and let go of me, then took two steps into Jamie’s office and face-planted right over the arm of the long sofa against the wall.
I chuckled at that, leaning into the doorway to take a look at this guy. He was out cold, face down, feet up in the air and snoring. I left him there to sleep it off.
Chapter Two
Hunter’s apartment was beautiful, in a too-perfect sort of way. He’d probably paid a high-end designer the big bucks to come up with this sleek, modern interior, though the end result was a little sterile. The views of San Francisco from the floor-to-ceiling windows were breathtaking, though.
He led me to his bedroom and pulled me down on top of the thick grey duvet with him, his mouth finding mine. After a minute he pulled off his jacket and shirt, revealing a smooth, lean body, and went back to kissing me.
But something occurred to me after a while. Hunter was just going through the motions, performing for me just like he did when the cameras were rolling. I knew better than anyone when someone was faking it, since I faked it for a living.
I kissed him softly before saying, “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, Hunter. I get that it’s miserable to be alone on Christmas. And if the real reason you brought me home is just for the company, we don’t have to have sex. We can just hang out.”
“You came here expecting to fuck me. I wouldn’t go back on that.”
I brushed his hair from his face and asked gently, “What do you really want tonight, Hunter?”
“I don’t want to be alone,” he admitted quietly.
“Do you really want to have sex with me?”
“I….”
“It’s fine to say no.”
“I mean, if you want to, that’s fine with me.”
“But would you prefer to just hang out?”
His blue eyes were full of emotion as he said, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” I kissed the tip of his nose and stood up, pulling him to his feet with me. “We can just shift gears, and make this into a sleepover.”
“Is that really ok with you?”
“Honestly, I didn’t come here for sex,” I admitted. “I just came here to be with you.”
His face lit up with a genuine, unguarded smile that made him seem far younger than twenty-two. “All anyone ever wants is to take me to bed. Sometimes, I feel like that’s all I’m good for. You don’t even know how nice it is to be with someone who just wants me for me.”
We stayed up all night playing football video games, laughing and joking, our legs tangled together on the couch (and I want it known for the record that I kicked his ass at Madden). Finally, around dawn, we went hand-in-hand to his bedroom and curled up under the covers, holding each other securely.
He snuggled against my shoulder and said, “Merry Christmas, Christopher.”
“Merry Christmas, Hunter.”
“I had so much fun tonight. Can we do this again soon?”
“Absolutely.”
He lightly ran his fingertip across the inch of skin that was exposed on my belly where my t-shirt was riding up, and told me, “You’re a really beautiful boy, you know.”
“But I’m not your type at all, am I?”
He grinned and said, “I have a really bad habit of falling for big, beefy, muscle-bound jocks.”
I grinned too. “In that case, you would have loved the drunk guy that kissed me under the mistletoe while you were out hailing a cab.”
“Oh yeah? Did you get his number?”
“Nope. He passed out right after he kissed me.”
Hunter chuckled at that. “Must have been some kiss.”
“Oh it was. But he was so drunk that he probably won’t even remember it in the morning.”
“What did this guy look like? I’m wondering if I spotted him at the party.”
“Tall, broad shoulders, gorgeous blue eyes, and most ridiculous Christmas sweater I’ve ever seen.”
Hunter looked up at me with a huge smile. “Rudolph?”
“Yes!”
“Oh man, that guy was smoking hot, even with the train wreck of a sweater. Think how much fun it’d be to get him out of it.” We both smiled at that, and he added, “You should ask around. You could track him down, get his number.”
“Nah. It was thirty seconds under the mistletoe, brought on by enough beer to take down a team of Clydesdales. No point in making it into anything more than that.”
“If you say so,” he murmured, settling in, his head again on my shoulder.
Ok, sure, I would have loved to see that guy again. He was gorgeous, and that kiss was amazing. But like I said before, I didn’t date, so nothing could have come of it anyway.
Besides, when he sobered up in the morning, assuming he even remembered what happened, he’d probably be freaked that he’d locked lips with a man. I mean, he had to be straight. No self-respecting gay guy would ever be caught dead in that sweater.
When I awoke, it was early afternoon. I raised my eyelids a fraction of an inch, then sat straight up in bed and stared wide-eyed at Hunter. He’d just stepped out of the bathroom, buck naked and towel-drying his wet hair. He had the most flawless body I’d ever seen, lean yet toned, his skin all-over tan without a single blemish. He was also completely smooth, waxed absolutely everywhere, which seriously must hurt like hell.
“Wow,” I murmured, “Like I said, my clients must be sorely disappointed. I am in no way a Hunter Storm type.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“You’re perfect.”
“Hardly.”
“No, you really are.” I knew I was completely staring at him, but I just couldn’t help myself. Then I said, “Ok, this is going to sound super pervy, but would you let me paint you some time?”
“For real?” He tossed the towel over a chair and came and stood beside the bed, untangling his long hair with his fingers.