by Lynda Aicher
“At what?” He was completely serious. “At dating? Talking? Men? Sex? There seems to be a lot you keep stumbling over.” That was harsh. He knew it. The man had made some huge strides in the two dates they’d had and now he was kicking him down. That was not the way to make a friend. But the digs hung there between them, slowly sinking what could have been.
Rock’s grip flexed, the quick tightening the only indication that his remarks had done any damage. Was it Rock’s turn to leave?
“All of them,” Rock finally said, his voice low and cold. Like his eyes. The dark edge of the man’s military training was showing through. “That’s me. It’s no secret. I’m trying to change. If that’s an issue, then we should stop here.”
Having his words tossed back at him pulled an unexpected thread of admiration from Carter. It was another reminder that the man was smarter than his gruff front let on. “You’re not easy, are you?” Carter’s first impression of Rock being a hard nut to crack was proving truer than he’d first guessed.
Rock snorted a soft laugh and sat back, releasing Carter’s wrist as he did. “Not on purpose.”
Carter pushed his plate to the side and rested his arms on the table. “No? So this hard, stoic, military badass thing you got going on isn’t all part of a master plan to keep people away?”
The glance he shot at Carter from under his lashes was an odd mix of sly and shy. “You saw through that?”
“Not at first.” No, the image was so solidly in place it was doubtful many took the time to figure out that there was more behind the man than what was presented. “But I’m guessing I’m one of the few people who knows what you’re hiding.”
Rock’s throat bobbed and flexed as he swallowed. “You’re the only one,” he mumbled, the words spoken quickly and blended together on one long breath. He glared at the table, his hands fisting once again.
“There’s got to be someone else who knows.” The weight of the admission was too much for Carter and he tried to push it off, find a loophole that would get him out of the responsibility of being the sole person to carry Rock’s secret. “I get that the military rules would make it hard while you served, but there has to be at least one person before or after the service that you’ve told or has guessed.”
Rock snapped his head up, that deadpan glare nailing him once again. “No one.”
No one. The dry delivery had the statement sounding ominous, a bit of a threat somehow conveyed with the words. Carter could only imagine how a secret like that could eat away at a man from the inside. It was bad enough keeping his profession a secret.
“How old are you?” he asked.
“Thirty-four.”
That was about what he’d guessed. It was a long time to live with such a big burden. He treaded forward with caution. This topic went deep into the personal territory and he wasn’t sure how Rock was going to respond. “How long have you known?”
“Known what?” Rock tugged on the neck of his hoodie, his gaze moving everywhere but on Carter.
He inched his leg forward until his foot hit Rock’s under the table. The man froze, his eyes closing. Carter kept going until his lower leg was braced against Rock’s. It was no different than at the game last night, but no straight man would sit with another man like that unless it was too crowded to avoid. It was only a moment before Rock’s foot slowly slid forward—not back—to extend the contact.
Carter watched Rock’s face. The quick wince, the twitch of his brow right by the top of the scar, the easing of his mouth as he released his breath. When Rock finally opened his eyes, Carter softly asked, “How long have you known you were gay?”
Another series of emotions passed over Rock’s unguarded face. The hard set of denial pulled his mouth tight and brows down. That held for two, three, four seconds to the point that Carter almost retreated. But then the next pass of fear had Rock’s lips clamped between his teeth and his head dropping. God, Carter had never wanted to reach out and hold a man like he did right that second.
“It’s okay,” he whispered, wanting to say more. Do more.
The final crash came when Rock braced his elbows on the table and hid his face in his hands. The heavy up-and-down movement of his shoulders detailed the deep breaths and even deeper struggle he was going through.
Carter pressed his leg against Rock’s, hoping the man got his silent support. Damn it. Why were they having this conversation here, where he couldn’t even touch him? But they were, and it needed to be finished no matter how much it hurt or how inappropriate the location was.
“Can you say it, Rock?” His voice was so soft it almost cracked. His heart ached for him and he wasn’t going to abandon him.
Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Rock had snuck through Carter’s own soundly erected walls to reach a part of him that had been closed off for ten long years. Years where he’d almost forgotten how to let anyone get close enough to see who he really was. Because no one wanted the real him. They all wanted whichever fantasy he presented.
But Rock was different, and maybe things could be real between them—if the man would be real with himself.
* * *
Could he say it? Fuck if Rock knew. He’d never even tested the words out in his head because once they were out, there was no going back. His breakfast tossed around in his stomach and his skin was layered in a cold sweat that left him clammy and boiling at the same time.
He dug his fingers into his forehead, his palms gouging his cheekbones, but he couldn’t push it back. The thought was right there on the edge of his brain. The admission.
Even when he’d gotten caught kissing Nicholas when he was fourteen, even when he’d gotten drunk enough to let a stranger suck him off in an alley, even when he’d paid to meet a male escort, he’d never fully admitted the truth to himself.
There was no going back from those two words. But could he do it? Was he ready? What would happen if they formed? Were spoken?
His hands started to shake and he fisted them over his eyes, but they still trembled against his brow. Just when he thought he was going to lose it, there was that solid press of support against his leg, the pressure increasing, a slow rub added.
He wanted that touch. He wanted more than that touch. And he wanted it with that man. Carter.
I’m gay.
The words were there before he could shove them back. I’m gay. They kept cycling through his mind. I’m gay. They wouldn’t go away. I’m gay. They grew stronger with each echo until it was the only thing he could think. Hear.
“I’m gay.”
The first mumbled utterance seemed to grind against his throat, shredding the lining. He sucked in a huge, stuttering gulp of air until his lungs were close to bursting and still it didn’t help. The darkness behind his eyelids was all-consuming, the black hole of shame closing around him, destroying him right there. Finally.
“Breathe, Rock.” And there was the touch on his arm. The grounding voice. The confidence that he’d always wanted and only faked. “Say it again.”
He didn’t think. He simply followed the firm order. “I’m gay.” His voice was stronger this time, the words more stable.
“One more time.”
Three times. Three times to get it right. To accept the truth he’d buried so long and deep that he couldn’t even admit it to himself. Just like Carter had said. And the man was still here, despite the complete fucked-up mess he’d made of every one of their meetings. Including this one.
He was so incredibly tired of running. Hiding. Of denying the one basic thing about himself that had never changed, no matter how he much he willed it, cursed it, tried to force it out—it was still holding true.
He clasped his hands and rested them against his mouth before he forced his eyes open. All he saw was Carter. Dark hair, bright blue eyes, lips he dreamed of taking, devouring. Steady and waiting for him. He didn’t know for certain if this man was worth the risk, but he had no doubt he was worth the chance.
Carter was of
fering him an opportunity that no one had given him before—to be honest with himself.
He lowered his hands to the table, his breath leveling out, the shaking gone. The deep compassion displayed across Carter’s face held him firmer than the hand that still embraced his forearm. He cleared his throat, the rumble breaking the silence that seemed to enclose them in their own little bubble.
“I’m gay.” The truth was there in the clear resonance that rang across the space to lift Carter’s lips into the most stunning smile Rock had ever seen. He’d said it, but even better was the weighted ton of baggage that ceased to exist within him. His chest expanded and for the first time ever, he took a breath that seemed to reach his soul.
It was amazing.
Carter released his arm but kept his hand extended, a grin on his face. “Hi, Rockford. I’m Carter Montgomery. It’s really nice to meet you. And did you know? I’m gay.”
Rock settled his hand in Carter’s and forced himself not to squeeze that lifeline too hard. The connection was about more than heat and desire and fucking. This touch, this hold, was about freedom. “Hi, Carter. I’m Rockford Fielding.” He wet his lips, his smile breaking to scrunch his cheeks tight. “I can’t believe you’re still here. And did you know?” He let the question hang, savoring the words before they sang from his mouth. “I’m gay, too.”
Chapter Nine
Rock lifted his chin and inhaled the brittle air into his nose. The crisp chill raced down his nasal passages with a sharp, dry edge that he usually hated. Today it was fresh and filling. The crunch of their boots over the ice-covered snow mimicked breaking glass as they crossed the small parking lot behind the diner.
He glanced at the man beside him and was at a loss when a smile spread wide over his own lips. It was so out of character he didn’t know how to process the changes that had occurred within him so quickly.
Someone knew his secret. Not just someone—Carter knew he was gay. He’d said it, finally, and he had no desire to take it back.
“Thank you,” he said when they stopped beside a dark blue sedan that he assumed was Carter’s car.
“For what?” Carter turned to face Rock, his back to the car. His hands were tucked in the pockets of his bomber jacket and a questioning smile lined his face. Right there, in the shadows of the quiet lot, hair slightly messed and dropping over his brow, Carter took his breath away.
Rock ducked his head before drawing up tall. “Does it sound too corny if I say ‘everything’?”
Carter gave a low grunt of amusement before he shook his head. “I was just there. You did the hard stuff.”
Yeah, he had been there. “That’s more than anyone else has done.”
“Really?” His brows rose, eyes widening, which only made the blue more prominent. “Then I’m glad I was.”
Rock glanced around the small parking lot. It was tucked behind the diner and banked on both sides by three-story brick buildings that blocked the sun. The place was isolated and empty, except for them.
He took a step closer, then another until the fog of Carter’s breath spread around his face. The slight hint of mint from the candies by the diner exit tingled over his nose and he sucked in another icy breath, trying to find that scent that was Carter’s. His groin tightened when he found it and it took all of his will not to close his eyes and groan.
Carter watched him, not moving, and Rock understood that he was letting him find his way. Despite everything, there was still a part of him that doubted Carter’s motives. But it wasn’t something to worry about now.
Now he wanted to kiss the man. Really kiss him.
Rock tugged his hands from the warmth and safety of his pockets, the cold wrapping around his fingers almost instantly. He didn’t care. The edge of Carter’s jaw felt chilly beneath the pads of Rock’s fingers. “It’s so smooth,” he said, unthinking.
The corner of Carter’s lips quirked up. “I can’t grow a beard even if I wanted to.”
Rock pressed his palm over the span of Carter’s cheek, savoring the softness where he caressed the small curve. His pulse picked up with each new sensation he processed.
Carter tilted his head, his cheek pressing into Rock’s palm. His breath hitched when Rock trailed the tips of his fingers over the arc of his upper lip. A small tremble seemed to flow down Rock’s finger to turn into a full-fledged earthquake in his chest.
“I want to kiss you,” Rock said, the breathy quality of his voice so foreign he didn’t recognize it. Yet he didn’t care. Not right then. “Can I?”
He probably didn’t need to ask—others wouldn’t. Not when the other man was giving all of the signals of someone wanting to be kissed. But Rock didn’t want to offend this amazing man again. He wanted to do it right, but he didn’t know what that was.
The distant sounds of cars passing on the street faded behind the pounding of his heart and the rush of blood through his veins. He watched in fascination as the pink tip of Carter’s tongue made a quick pass over his lips. Damn, he wanted to play with that tongue. Take it into his mouth and feel the wetness that went with the warmth.
Carter gripped his hips and pulled him forward until their chests collided. Rock groaned, unable to keep the deep emotion from tumbling out. There were too many layers of clothes between them to properly feel the man before him, but that didn’t matter. It was all seared into his memory. Every dip, impression and touch was imprinted there without Rock’s consent.
“Yes.” Carter’s mouth barely moved, the single word a breath of air fanning the flames burning within Rock. The bright blue of Carter’s eyes was edged out by the dark circle of his pupils, and Rock couldn’t look away.
He slipped his fingers through the soft strands of Carter’s hair, the moment right there, waiting for the press of lips, the flick of tongue, the warm tangle of passion he’d been imagining for over a year. “Thank you,” he breathed before closing his eyes and taking that last millimeter of space away.
The first touch was a dip of finding, the smooth tissue giving under the press of Rock’s lips. The longing crested and spun within Rock as he nipped, brushed and nibbled at Carter’s mouth. He could barely catch his breath, but air wasn’t required. All he needed was more of this man. More of the wonderful feelings that were bursting open now that he’d set them free.
He swiped his tongue over the seam of Carter’s mouth and Carter opened, his tongue right there to meet Rock’s. He pressed closer, the hard line of their bodies meeting from head to toe that had him wishing they were somewhere without coats and padding that kept that final touch from happening. When the length of their erections collided in a rub and tip of hips, a low moan pierced the air, but he couldn’t say who it came from.
He thrust his tongue over and around Carter’s, not getting enough of the man. Would he ever? His fingers were tangled in Carter’s hair, wound around the strands in a knot of contained need to yank him closer.
Carter met every heated press, his arms wrapping around Rock’s waist to guide the grind of their hips in a pace that was driving Rock insane. He’d never been this wild and open with a man, exposed to both the environment and the emotions that were flying free.
They had to stop. He didn’t want to. They had to. Now, or he wouldn’t be able to in another minute.
Taking one last swipe around the inside of Carter’s mouth, he loosened his hold on the back of Carter’s head. The kisses decreased in heat and force. The crazy ramp of passion cooling in a series of slow swirls of tongue and light tap of lips until Carter finally brought an end to the kiss.
They stood there, panting, temples resting against each other. Rock was incapable of thinking of anything but the raw, churning sensations that had every nerve ending shooting out signals of lust. Every secret craving fought for the end he wouldn’t get here.
Carter loosened his hold on Rock’s hips, the rumble of his throat clearing snapping reality back to Rock. He opened his eyes and stepped away when he saw that Carter was backed against his car and
had nowhere to go. Relinquishing his hold on the man was one of the hardest things he could remember doing, but he did.
He stuffed his hands deep in his pockets and wrestled with where to look. What happened now? Was this it? He swallowed and hoped to hell it wasn’t.
“Rock.”
There was a deeper tone to Carter’s voice that reached out and grabbed the fraying hem of his nerves. He looked up and was held by the open emotion in Carter’s eyes.
Carter moistened then held the edge of his lip between his teeth before it popped out. “That was nice.”
Nice. The chuckle that sprang from Rock was lined with the bitter edge of understanding. It’d been way beyond fucking nice for him.
“Better than,” Carter said before Rock could speak. “I…” He glanced away, the first hint of insecurity showing as his jaw worked over the words before he turned back to Rock. “Any chance you’d like to get together again?”
The tone and question was casual, but the underlying tension wasn’t. It strung between them in the chilled air on delicate strings, waiting to be crushed. Was Carter really worried that he’d say no? How was that possible?
Rock shoved away the preservation instincts that had guided him to this point and took another leap toward the life he’d been afraid to hope for. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
Carter’s smile was warm, if not full. “Good.” His smile fell as he dug into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his keys. “It’s not for money, you know.”
The mumbled statement gave away Carter’s fear and shot a dose of strength into Rock. He reached out and grabbed Carter’s hand, the keys pressing into his palm. Carter jerked his head up to stare at Rock. The little flash of self-doubt was squashed behind an assured gleam that Rock remembered from their first dinner together.
Now that he knew the man better, it was easy to define the falseness in the cocky arch of his brow. Although Carter hid them well, he battled his own layers of doubt, which Rock wanted to destroy.