by Lynda Aicher
“Only because of you.”
“Nope. This is all you.” Carter nodded toward the writing on the wall above them. They stared at the stark words, which were simple in statement, powerful in meaning. They were so very Rock. “Do you resent your past?”
Rock didn’t answer for a bit, the low thump of his heart counting off the time beneath Carter’s palm. “No. I can’t,” he finally said. “I’m the one who denied myself for so long. I can’t blame that on anyone. But I’m tired of hating who I am.” The last statement was spoken with pure, raw emotion that turned his voice raspy.
Carter understood. “We’re our own worst enemies sometimes.”
“Fuck.” Rock released his hold and leaned forward, dropping his forehead against the wall. “I’m so tired of hiding. I can’t do it anymore.”
It would’ve been easy to say “then don’t,” but the words wouldn’t help. No more than if someone told him to stop being an escort. Rock had to want it enough on his own to do something about it. “I’m here for you.”
For as long as you’ll have me.
Rock stepped out of Carter’s arms and silently pulled his shirt back on. Carter leaned on the wall and watched as Rock carefully reassembled himself. It was almost like he was putting his armor back on, each piece shielding him against the vulnerability he’d just displayed.
“Can we go back to my place and download the pictures?” Rock turned around and frowned when he saw Carter. “What?”
He shook his head and pushed away from the wall. “Sure.” He swiped up his camera bag and slipped his coat on as he headed for the stairs. “I have some more pictures to upload to my website too.”
“Cool.” Rock followed him down the stairs. “When do you want to go live with the site?”
He was grateful Rock was behind him. That way he didn’t see the cringe he couldn’t cover. “I don’t know yet.” Maybe never. The closer he came to completing his contract, the more nervous he became. Not that he’d tell Rock that. He might not have said it, but Carter knew he was counting on him leaving the business.
But damn it, how?
It was irrational after longing for the end for the last year. But how did he become someone he wasn’t, for real?
What if he walked away from what he knew, only to have nothing in the end? No job, no Rock and no money?
Where would he be then?
Chapter Twenty-Two
Rock stepped out of the rain into Deklan’s condo. Jake’s hard laugh burst down the hallway, followed by a remark from Tyler that he couldn’t quite make out. “I’m the last one here?”
“I think so,” Deklan said. “Seth and Tyler just arrived.” He led the way down the short hallway and headed to the kitchen. “Beer?”
“Sure.” Rock nodded hello to the other men then grabbed the bottle from Deklan. “Thanks.”
“You guys ready?” Tyler slumped in a chair at the dining table, arm draped around the back of the chair next to him, where Seth was sitting.
“You know you can’t sit by each other,” Jake protested.
“Us?” Tyler asked, all innocent, but Seth was already standing to move, his long hair falling forward as he pressed a kiss to Tyler’s temple.
“Don’t ‘us,’ you cheating shit.”
“Like it’s my fault I could see his cards?”
Rock shook his head and took the seat next to Tyler that Seth had vacated. He dug out his money and handed it over to Deklan in exchange for his chips.
“Anyone else coming?” Seth asked, glancing around the table.
“Lucas got asked to work when Karl called in sick, and Noah declined, like usual,” Deklan answered. No surprise there. Noah had never attended, even though they extended the offer every month.
“Marcus working, too?” Tyler asked.
“Yeah.”
Mondays were normally a slow night, which allowed most of them to get it off once a month. But at least one of the Doms always got stuck working.
“What about Vanessa?”
They all looked to Seth, as he seemed to have the best relationship with her. She was the only female partner in The Den, but she was also a Mistress who could handle herself just fine in a room full of men.
“She’s on the road with the Glaciers again.” Seth took a drink of his beer. “And Carter?”
Rock glanced at his phone and switched it to vibrate before he started stacking his chips into neat piles. Carter had gotten a call that afternoon for a last-minute appointment. The agency normally gave him more warning, which left Rock with an uneasy feeling for no solid reason other than Carter’s tone as he’d hung up the phone.
He finished organizing his chips, looked up and went still. Everyone was staring at him, waiting. Deklan gave away nothing, but there was a small smirk on Tyler’s face. Seth had a brow raised, his expression speculative, where Jake just grinned openly, which was disturbing in its own right.
“What?” Rock crossed his arms over his chest and fought back the rush of panic that went with the bile rising in the back of his throat.
“Seth asked if Carter was coming.”
There was nothing abnormal in Jake’s tone, but nerves had Rock deflecting the question. He flicked his chin at Tyler. “He’s Tyler’s friend.”
“And your lover,” Jake shot back.
Rock absorbed the shock and kept his mouth from dropping open by clenching his teeth. A quick scan of the table showed no judgment. If anything he saw amusement. They thought this was funny? It dawned on him then that they were teasing him. It wasn’t ridicule at all.
Tyler nudged him. “Dude. Lighten up.”
“How’d you know?” Rock scanned between Jake and Seth then sent accusatory glares at Deklan and Tyler. Jake let out a laugh, shaking his head, and even Seth joined in with a low chuckle.
“They didn’t say a word.” Jake pointed to Tyler and Deklan. “But you have never, in all the years I’ve known you, invited anyone to anything.”
Rock hung his head. He might as well have sent an engraved letter stating his intentions. Of course they’d think something was up. The fucking heat inched up his neck and over his face in that telling wave he’d never been able to control. He’d never stop hating it. Fucking emotions. The only way to stop it was to not be embarrassed.
“Besides,” Jake added. “Your truck’s been parked in front of his condo a lot lately.”
He snapped his head up and eyed Jake. “Are you going to make something of it?”
“Fuck, no.” He scowled then smiled. “Except to give you shit about finally getting laid. And I’d do that no matter who you were fucking.”
It was on the tip of Rock’s tongue to say they didn’t fuck, but he pulled it back just in time. They would’ve ripped on him for sure for saying something so…committed. He wasn’t ready to go there with them, even if he was there with Carter.
“Are we playing cards or not?” Rock looked to Deklan, who’d been methodically shuffling the cards during the entire exchange.
Deklan started dealing. “Seven card stud.”
“You know we don’t care, right?”
Seth’s calm question had everyone stopping to stare at Rock once again. Damn. He really hated having the attention focused on him. He grunted a response and took a drink of his beer. Their support meant the world, but there was no need to say that. He set the bottle down and glanced at them all again. No matter what, these men had his back. Always would. They were a unit no less strong than the ones he’d served with in the Army.
He was wrong. He did need to say it. “Thanks.”
“Okay, girls,” Tyler said, tapping his beer bottle on the table. “Are we done with the group hug?”
A chorus of fuck yous rang around the table, and Rock and Jake drilled Tyler on both sides with punches to his arms. Thankfully, that ended the Carter discussion.
The game progressed as usual from there. If anyone noticed him checking his phone more than normal, they didn’t say anything. He couldn’t ge
t rid of the niggling itch that something was wrong. If not wrong, then not completely right.
But where did that leave him? Carter never talked about his appointments, and Rock didn’t really want to know. Logically, knowing of Carter’s profession was different from discussing the actualities and then thinking of all those random men touching—fucking—his boyfriend.
Boyfriend. He never imagined saying that word, but he more than liked it. He had a boyfriend—who was out right now fucking another guy.
Shit. He tossed his cards on the table and folded, not caring what he held. Mumbling an excuse, he found the bathroom and closed the door behind him before his emotions showed. It was stupid to be thinking of that stuff here.
He braced his hands on the counter and tried to blank his mind. What Carter did with other men wasn’t personal. That was why he always made sure that what they did was. It made them different. Special. And who would’ve thought he’d want that?
Fuck. He’d always wanted it. He’d just been too afraid go after it. He would still be if Carter hadn’t had the patience to guide him out of the closet.
He slowly raised his head to stare at his reflection in the mirror. His focus immediately went to his scar. Since the day it’d been sliced into his skin by that bigoted scum, it’d served as a reminder of how wrong it was to want what he did.
How wrong he was to want men.
To love another man. Do I love Carter?
Was that was this was? Did that explain the ungodly possessiveness that was growing stronger each day? The need to talk to him, if not see him every day? The crazy desire to protect him, keep him safe, hold him, be held by him?
The mirror held no answers.
He had to look inside himself to get those and he didn’t know if he was ready for that. This whole relationship had happened so fast. He could only just admit he was gay. Now he was wondering if he was in love. Crazy.
He shoved away and did what he was supposed to do in a bathroom. The cold water he splashed on his face when he was washing his hands helped to still his thoughts. He was worrying like a nervous mother and that wasn’t him.
Opening the door, he found Tyler waiting. That didn’t help. At all. The man leaned against the far wall with crossed arms and a speculative stare. “What’s wrong?” Tyler asked.
“Other than everyone knowing my shit? Nothing.” Rock moved to go down the hall, but Tyler slammed a hand onto his chest, stopping him. He let the full heat of his frustration out in the glare he leveled at Tyler. Reminding himself that he was the one who’d brought Tyler into his business in the first place did little to derail his annoyance.
Tyler studied him, his eyes searching out what Rock wasn’t saying. “Did Carter have an appointment tonight?”
He didn’t want to answer. It wasn’t Tyler’s business. But then… “Yes.” The clipped reply said more than a full sentence would’ve.
“That bothers you?”
“Not…” Rock bit off his response and sighed. He glanced down the hall to see that they were still alone before he stepped back and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Yes. No. Shit.”
“What is it?”
How did he answer without fucking it up and looking like a total ass? Was that even possible? He stared at the floor, tired. He’d been struggling his entire life to accept who he was. He told Carter he didn’t care what he did. That his profession didn’t matter to him. Was he lying about that, just like he’d been lying about who he was?
“He got the appointment late this afternoon.” He looked up. “I’m concerned.”
“Did he say he was worried?”
“No. It was his voice.” And that sounded stupid.
“He’s been in the business long enough to know how to get out of bad situations.”
Although that was probably supposed to comfort him, it did the opposite. He didn’t want to think about what “bad situations” could entail. “Can I do anything?”
The slow head shake from Tyler only upped his worry. “Not while he’s on the job. Do you want me to call him later tonight?”
“No.” Christ. He didn’t want Carter to know he was talking about this with other people. “I’m sure it’s just me being neurotic. I’ll check on him.”
“Do you do that a lot?”
“What?”
“Check on him after an appointment?”
“No,” Rock whispered, embarrassment turning his voice weak. It was easier if they both ignored the times when Carter was working. Well, it was easier for him. He had no idea if that was true for Carter too.
“So you’re really not okay with what he does?” There was a harder, defensive edge to Tyler’s voice that Rock understood, but it didn’t stop him from firing back with his own defensiveness.
“Would you be okay with someone you care about endangering himself every time he went to work? How would you feel if you knew your lover hated his job and couldn’t get out of it? What would you do if you wanted to hurt every person who had ever dared to treat Carter like he was something to be used and disposed of? Huh, Tyler? What would you do?”
At some point during his tirade, he’d inched closer until their chests were now almost bumping. He sucked in air and stared at Tyler, hoping like fuck he had an answer. Any answer that would help him.
Tyler did the most unexpected thing then. He wrapped his arms around Rock and jerked him in, holding him tight. Christ. “Does he know how you feel?”
Rock squeezed his eyes closed and willed himself to stay remote. “I don’t know.”
“Have you told him any of that?”
“No.”
“Maybe you should.”
“Why?” Rock pushed him away. “So he can feel worse about himself?”
“No.” Tyler shook his head but waited until Rock met his gaze before he continued. “So he knows someone cares.”
“But he knows that.” Of course Carter knew that. He’d shown it in so many ways. How could Carter not know?
“Does he know you love him? Does he know he has a reason to leave the agency? That you’ll be there when he’s wondering what’s next?”
Love him. There it was again. Rock dodged that question and vented his aggravation on the ones he could answer. “He knows I’m there for him. I’ve more than supported his photography and his dreams of selling his pictures. So don’t you dare say I’m not there for him.”
Tyler leaned on the wall, his face emotionless. “When I was suddenly unemployed because Seth swooped in and tried to save me, I was lost. Seth thought he was doing me a favor by getting me out of the business, but I was left with the looming question of what to do next. The freedom was terrifying.” He flipped his bangs out of the way and stared down the hall toward the dining room. “That’s when Carter showed up and verbalized what I was feeling. He called it the conundrum of a whore. You don’t want to fuck for money, but if you don’t fuck for money, how will you make money?”
“He has a skill—a real talent—that he can use to make money,” Rock interjected. “His pictures are great. He doesn’t need to fuck for money.”
Tyler shook his head in a way that said Rock didn’t understand. And he didn’t. Hell, he was so confused by all of this it was giving him a headache. He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to grasp what Tyler was telling him.
“It’s all he’s known and done for years,” Tyler said, patience laced through his voice like that of a parent to child. “Be it good or bad, right or wrong, it’s his comfort zone. The evil he knows is better than the evil he doesn’t know.”
Rock dropped his hand. “Is that how you felt?”
Tyler gave a slow nod. “I was only with the agency for a few years and I was at a loss for what to do when the job was gone. Who would hire me? It’s not like you can list being an escort on your resume. What if they found out about my past? What if I can’t pay the bills? What if I ended up back on a corner hooking myself out, worse off than I was with the agency?” He blew out a breath and straightened
away from the wall. “There’re a lot of reasons to get out, but there can be just as many reasons to stay.”
“Is Seth why you walked away?”
The genuine smile that curled over Tyler’s lips spoke volumes. “Seth gave me the opportunity, but I had to find the courage to take it. That didn’t happen until I stopped doubting Seth and Allie’s intentions.”
“How did you do that?” What did Rock have to do to get Carter to stop doubting him?
Tyler’s laugh was dry with derision. “I had to trust them.” He shook his head and walked away, his strides slow as he returned to the poker game.
Rock followed behind, still lost as to what to do next.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Carter slammed his door shut and started the car in the next instant. He fumbled in his pocket for a breath mint and sucked hard to clear the residual taste from his mouth before he switched on the windshield wipers and exited the parking lot of the mid-level hotel.
The headlights glared off the rain-slick roads, giving him a reason to keep his attention on driving. On stopping at the red lights, maintaining the speed limit, keeping his car within the lane lines. If he focused on that, then he didn’t have to think about what he’d just left. It was done. Over. He kept his hands clenched around the steering wheel and stared straight ahead.
The thump and swoosh of the wipers competed with the pelting plinks of rain on the roof. It was a hard melody that fit the crap-fuck of a night. He should’ve been playing poker. He should’ve been having fun with Rock. He should’ve been doing something he wanted to do.
Hank had changed that. One little call, and he’d had to cancel his plans. It was Carter’s fault for losing the steady client—or so Hank had said.
Damn it. Twenty-four days. That was it. He had to hold strong until then.
And then what?
He wiped a hand over his face and gagged. The reflux hit so fast he barely held the bile back. He swallowed hard and jerked his hand away, the smell of sex going with it. The desire to scrub his hands clean was almost overwhelming. His skin crawled with the sense of filth that coated it. And that quickly, the image of the two men using him, one in his ass the other in his mouth, flashed in his mind like a wide-lens picture.