Art of Love (Valley Boys Book 1)

by Vicki Tharp

  By the time they made it to Premier, the crowd inside had grown thick. Demetri knew most of his friends and family had come, but with all the people there, he didn’t see anyone he knew right away.

  “Whoa,” Roman said as they came through the entrance. He hadn’t seen the work hanging before. It had taken Demetri’s breath away to see all his artwork displayed on the crisp, white walls. Roman’s hand squeezed his, and he leaned in and whispered. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”

  “This doesn’t bother you? Having all the pieces be you?”

  The exhibit was appropriately named Roman. After Demetri declined Premier’s job offer, Roman convinced him to accept their offer to showcase his work. He’d toiled for weeks and weeks, every spare moment preparing. With the theme of Roman, he’d taken it a step further and more literal. Every drawing and painting and sketch were of erotic poses of Roman set back in the time of Caesar. Roman as the peasant, the gladiator, the statesman, the ruler.

  “No. I’m flattered. And seeing all of them together, it’s breathtaking.”

  “There you are.” Niko and Vin squeezed through the crowd, and they all shook hands. “The man of the hour.”

  The door opened behind them, and Joss walked in, tugging on the collar of his suit. Demetri stuck out his hand. “Glad you could make it.”

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  Niko sipped on his champagne and pointedly glanced behind Joss. “Where’s your plus one?”

  Vin elbowed Niko in the ribs. “Stop it.”

  “I was just—”

  “It’s fine. He couldn’t make it. Probably for the best. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go find the bar.”

  Vin turned around and watched his ex disappear into the multitude of people. Then to Niko said, “He’s had a hard enough time getting back into dating, he doesn’t need—”

  Niko raised his hand. “You’re right. That was out of line.”

  Vin turned his attention to Demetri. “Niko said you were good, but wow. I don’t have any words.” Then he pointed over his shoulder at all the people who had shoehorned themselves into the gallery. They had to be violating a couple of fire codes. “But no one can stop talking about them.”

  A portion of Demetri’s apprehension lifted. “I’m glad you like it.”

  “Go on,” Roman said. “Mingle. Everyone will want to talk your ear off.”

  Demetri kissed him. “Okay. I’ll find you in a bit.”

  “Don’t worry about me.”

  Two hours later and not only had Demetri not seen Roman, but he’d been so busy talking to the patrons that he hadn’t even had a drink. But the show would be over soon, and he was going to get that drink.

  The crowd thinned, and Tavi walked over, a soda in his hand. “You hanging in there?”

  Demetri laughed at his words Tavi had thrown back at him. It looked like they’d come full circle. “I think.”

  Tavi smiled, recognizing his reply.

  Demetri narrowed his eyes at Tavi. “Aren’t you a little young to be coming to an opening like this?”

  Holding up his cell phone, Tavi said, “We all have porn production studios in our pockets. This is nothing I haven’t seen before. Besides, this is art.”

  “Where are your dads?”

  Tavi glanced around. “They’re here somewhere. I know they wanted to talk to you, but Sebastian said he refused to stand in a hella long line to talk to his cousin.”

  Demetri laughed. “I don’t blame him.”

  Demetri glanced around at all of his work, catching the red color of the ‘sold’ stickers on quite a few of them, pleased with the warm reception. But then again, with Roman as the subject matter, he couldn’t go wrong.

  With the line of people wanting to speak to him finally gone, he returned his attention to Tavi. “If you’ll excuse me, I think there’s a drink somewhere with my name on it.”

  “I saw Roman over by the bar not too long ago.”

  It took him twenty minutes to walk the fifty feet to the bar, shaking hands and making small talk along the way. He’d seen friends and family from a distance, but they’d kept their distance so other people interested in his art could meet him.

  His feet hurt and his legs felt more tired than the days he’d spent standing in front of his classes lecturing all day, and all he wanted to do was get on with his plans for the evening.

  Through the people, he saw Roman leaning against the bar, talking to the bartender as the man started cleaning the station in preparation for closing for the night. The man bobbed his chin toward Demetri, and Roman glanced over his shoulder.

  The smile that spread on Roman’s face made Demetri forget about the pulse in his feet and the knees that refused to lock anymore.

  “Hey stranger,” Roman leaned in and kissed him on the lips. “Can I buy you a drink?”

  “Please.”

  Roman introduced the bartender, one of the guys he’d worked with when Roman was still working for the catering company before school had started. Drake, he thought Roman had said, though Demetri had heard so many names that night he couldn’t be certain.

  “What’ll you have?” Drake asked.

  “Actually,” Roman said, “do you mind if I make it?”

  Drake backed away. “Fine with me. I’ve got glasses in the back I need to load.”

  Roman stepped behind the bar. “Well, handsome. What will it be?”

  Demetri leaned against the bar. “Why don’t you surprise me.”

  The sexy grin that spread across Roman’s face stopped Demetri’s heart. Fuck, he was a lucky man. Forget waiting for the spring semester to end, or even until he found another job. If Roman took the New York offer, they were moving… together.

  Roman handed over the drink, and Demetri couldn’t help his grin. “What do you call this?”

  “The Spice of Life.”

  Demetri took a sip. It was as good as he remembered. Maybe better.

  Roman leaned against the bar, sneaking a glance behind him where Drake had disappeared and lowered his voice. “You know, I’m off in a few minutes.”

  All of Demetri’s blood ran south, and he got lightheaded. Or maybe that was from the alcohol on an empty stomach. “What did you have in mind?”

  Roman flicked a glance at the back hallway. “What do you say?”

  “Oh, hell, yeah.”

  Drake returned, and Demetri took a long sip of his drink and left it on the bar, holding out his hand for Roman to take. They skirted the edges of the thinning crowd, trying not to draw attention to themselves.

  By the time they made it to the back hall, Roman was practically dragging Demetri behind him in a rush to get to the exit. He slammed into the exit door’s push bar, pulled Demetri through, and closed the door behind him, not even bothering to make sure they had a way back in.

  Roman shoved Demetri against the brick wall, straddling one of his legs. He nipped and sucked on the tender flesh of Demetri’s neck and whispered in his ear. “I’ve wanted to get you out here ever since we arrived.”

  In the months since they’d been in the alley, not much had changed, except it was January, so it wasn’t as hot. But it was southern California, so it wasn’t cold either. Roman palmed him through his tux pants and started going down on his knees.

  Demetri stopped him. That’s not how he wanted this to play out. “That’s a rented tux. You can’t scuff up the knees.”

  “Well, fuck.”

  Demetri reversed their positions, his hand fumbling with the fastener on Roman’s pants. Roman covered his hand. “It was my turn to go down on you.”

  “You forget. I don’t keep score. And sucking you off isn’t a chore.”

  Roman chuckled, and it eased the last of the tension in Demetri’s belly. He didn’t know what would happen next, but there was only one way to find out.

  “Make sure no one is coming,” Demetri said as he unzipped Roman’s pants and went down on one knee.

  Roman looked left and right, scanning both en
ds of the alley. “Looks like the coast is clear.”

  In his chest, Demetri’s heart hammered, a frenetic, almost frantic beat. When Roman glanced down, Demetri held up the velvet box with the platinum band in it.

  “What the fuck?”

  Demetri chuckled. “I’d planned on doing this later tonight. Not here. But then as you dragged me out, I couldn’t think of a better place for a new beginning than where it all started. I love you, babe. Take the New York job and take me with you. I’ll resign and—”

  Roman shook his head. Even in the dim light, Demetri could see the shine in his eyes. “I can’t do that, professor.” Roman pulled Demetri to his feet, planting a sweet kiss on his lips as he wrapped his arms around Demetri’s neck and pulled him into his chest.

  This was it. Roman was saying no.

  His legs almost gave out. Luckily Roman held on tight and kept him on his feet. “Why not?”

  Roman loosened his grip and held Demetri’s face in his hands. “Because I already accepted the job with Grant. I’m now officially an employee of The Corey Center. Or at least I will be once Grant gets home and checks his email.”

  Demetri narrowed his eyes. “You did that when you went back into the house when we were still in the driveway.”

  Roman nodded. “I love you. I love our life here. I don’t want to change any of that. If that ring is a marriage proposal, I’m saying yes. But we’re staying here. Where we belong.”

  Demetri’s breath caught, and his hands shook as he pulled the band out of the box and slipped it over Roman’s finger. Then Roman’s eyes heated, and he flipped Demetri around, the edges of the brick poking into Demetri’s the back.

  Roman unfastened Demetri’s pants, and Demetri didn’t have the will to stop him. Roman pulled Demetri’s hard cock free and started going down on his knees.

  “Your pants,” Demetri said, not that he cared too much, not when Roman’s strong hand wrapped around him, his thumb grazing over the sensitive head.

  Roman chuckled as he got down on his knees. “Don’t worry, professor, I can afford to replace the tux now.”

  Flight of Fancy Excerpt

  “Hey!” Joss Kincaid called out right before Tim, his new hire, disappeared around the corner in the road at the end of Kincaid Air’s driveway. Tim turned around. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Going home,” Tim hollered back.

  On fucking foot? Not only was it a long damn walk down to the San Fernando Valley from his hanger in the foothills of the San Gabriels, on a windy road with no shoulder it could be deadly.

  Joss waved him back. As Tim approached, the setting sun was at the man’s back and shined around his head like a damn halo. Joss laughed to himself. Tim seemed like a good guy, but an angel was probably stretching it, no matter how good he smelled.

  Maybe, but I bet if he wrapped those lips around your cock, you’d call out God’s name and hear the angels sing.

  “Give me a minute to change, and I’ll give you a ride to wherever you need to go.”

  “It’s okay, the bus stop isn’t that far and—”

  “Don’t argue.” The words come out harsher than Joss had intended, but it was not a good enough excuse that his nerves and temper had been riding a knife’s edge in the time leading up and right after the anniversary of Dan’s death. This time of year, always made him short-tempered and quick to lash out at people. It wasn’t something Joss was proud of, but even after seven years, he hadn’t managed to find a way to mitigate it yet.

  Tim swallowed hard and snapped back a quick and obedient, “Yes, sir.”

  What Joss wanted to do was lean toward him and, in a deep, sultry voice say, ‘say that again.’

  Instead, he did an immediate about-turn toward his apartment in the hangar. ‘Yes, sir.’ Fuck if the kid didn’t know what those snapped out words did to him.

  The semi he’d sported since Tim had walked through the hangar’s doors was a situation Joss couldn’t quite understand. He wasn’t a stranger to basic needs, but sex hadn’t been his focus for so long that his body’s response had taken him by surprise.

  Hell, it wasn’t like he hadn’t been around any sexy men since Dan had died, and he’d hooked up with his fair share of them as the need arose, but this seemed... different somehow.

  And the urge to jack off hit hard.

  He walked into his apartment and left the door open for Tim. “Make yourself comfortable,” he said as he walked past the den, the kitchen, and down the back hall to his bedroom. Closing the door, he stripped and jumped into the shower for a quick, cold wash. Maybe that would cool the heat in his belly and alleviate the heaviness in his balls.

  But the shower did nothing to help, and Joss had to tuck himself into a pair of jeans that didn’t quite have enough room in the crotch when he was half-hard.

  He had nothing against taking himself in his hand and relieving some of the pressure, but he didn’t have the time, and it felt wrongdoing it with his new, possibly straight, employee on his mind.

  In less than fifteen minutes, Joss came back out of his bedroom, his motorcycle boots clomping on the stained concrete floors to find Tim standing in front of the wall of pictures behind his kitchen table.

  “What are you doing?” Joss barked.

  Tim jumped—even though technically he hadn’t been doing anything wrong—and slunk away from the wall, his eyes big and doughy, the way a puppy’s might be after eating the corner of the couch.

  Tim put his hands up as if fending off an impending attack. “I was only looking.”

  Fuck, Joss had sounded like an asshole. The wall was covered in pictures of him and Dan. Their flights and jumps and adventures. To Joss, it seemed as if it were a private memorial. For his eyes only.

  But it’s in a public part of your house. A public part that you invited Tim into. It’s not like he’d pulled a photo album out from the bottom of the bookshelf and started thumbing through the pictures.

  Just because you can count on one hand the number of people you’ve had in this space since Dan died, isn’t anybody’s fault but your own.

  Joss took a mental step back.

  “Sorry,” Tim said. “It won’t happen again.”

  “Look…” Joss closed his eyes a moment to collect himself, when he opened them again, the vulnerability on Tim’s face nearly undid him. “That wall represents some of the best moments in my life, and sometimes I forget that sharing that with others isn’t going to take those special moments away from me.”

  From Tim’s confused expression, those words raised a lot more questions than they answered, but Joss wasn’t getting into any of that with someone he’d known for only a few hours.

  Instead of asking questions, Tim said, “Fair enough. I can still walk to the bus stop. It’s not too late if you’d rather not—”

  “What’s the matter,” Joss said as he swiped his Harley keys off the island in the kitchen. “You scared of the bike?”

  He hadn’t meant it as a challenge, but it came out like one.

  And seriously, Joss knew he could be an asshole sometimes, but today he was in rare form.

  Tim raised his chin. “No.”

  He didn’t sound convincing, but Joss took him at his word. Joss could have driven him down to the valley in Dan’s old Jeep, but he only drove that on the rare occasion that the weather was too shitty to ride. Luckily, he lived in a place like Southern California and not Juno, Alaska.

  Joss plucked his spare helmet off the kitchen island where it seemed to live despite having a place for it in the hangar and handed it to Tim.

  Tim followed him out, putting on the helmet. He waited by the bike until Joss threw his leg over and got it started.

  Joss blipped the throttle when it wanted to die and motioned with his head toward the tiny seat behind him. Good thing the guy was small. He’d heard from enough people that the seat was hard on the ass.

  Tim kicked the rear pegs down and climbed on, acting as if he had no idea where to put hi
s hands. Tim sat far back on the seat, and he’d likely fall off the first time Joss accelerated.

  Joss lifted his visor and raised his voice to be heard over the rumble and chug of his engine. “Get closer and put your arms around my waist if you don’t want to be dumped on the road.”

  Tim scooted closer, his thighs bracketing Joss’s and his arms going around his body, his hands linking an inch above Joss’s junk.

  Fuck. Maybe he hadn’t thought this thing through. But if he wanted to use the Jeep, he’d have to take off the cover and pray the battery hadn’t died, or the power steering hadn’t run out of fluid, or that the bald tires had enough tread not to blow the minute he took a turn sharply.

  You could fix all that with one day of work.

  If he had the time.

  And if he could spend hours working on Dan’s Jeep without breaking down and crying like a fucking baby.

  You know it’s all right to have emotions? You’re, like, human. Don’t pretend you aren’t.

  Fuck, if he didn’t know that. If he weren’t human, there wouldn’t be a fucking hole in his chest where Dan used to be.

  Tim lifted his visor. “Are we going?”

  “We’re going. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

  “More like jockstrap,” Tim said.

  Jockstrap? Joss walked his bike back then shifted into gear. Did Joss hear him right? Tim wore a jockstrap?

  One point in the gay column.

  Make that two.

  One point for wearing a jock strap under work clothes. And one point for admitting it.

  You don’t have to be gay to wear a jock.

  No, but...

  And if you want to know if he’s gay, you should ask him.

  Information he absolutely did not need to know. Professionally, it had no bearing on how Tim did his job, and personally... personally, it certainly didn’t matter because Joss had no inattention of doing anything about the stupid little infatuation he had going on.