Honey Red

by Liz Crowe

  He sat quickly, put her hand to his lips and kissed it, then released her. But she must have knelt down on the side opposite the dog that had quickly bumped his nose against Nick’s thigh. Her hand was on his other leg, her lips way too close to his ear yet again. “Tell me what you wish Nick.”

  He turned his face, reached up and touched her face, loving the soft flesh under his palm. “I wish I could see you.”

  “You are seeing me,” she said, covering his hand with hers and bringing it to her lips. He allowed his fingertips to graze her cheekbones, her nose, the long line of her neck. Then with a quick kiss to his cheek she was gone, trailing that intoxicating honey scent with her. Nick shook as he turned to the table, trying to square a long buried need and attempting to understand why he even felt it for the woman that Ian had brought to his sister’s wedding—one he knew from direct experience Ian was satisfying in his own way. Nick didn’t know what was worse—being jealous of Ian’s relationship with her or of Ian’s easy comfort with his own bi-sexuality. He groaned and put his head down ignoring Jake once again when the man put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

  An hour later, Ian was exhausted. Still tingling from the ‘quickie’ as Nick had called it with Hannah, his brain was entering shut down mode after the long emotional slog of the day’s events. Jamie was draped over his shoulder, down to his dress pants and T-shirt, snoring away a sugar crash. Nursing another beer, he handed the kid over to Tracy and stood, stretching out the kink in his lower back.

  He’d watched that whole Hannah and Nick dance floor show and was still trying to process how he felt about it. Acknowledging that above all the alpha-male possessive clamor that first rattled around in his brain, the sight of the man’s hand sliding down from her hip, and the way she curved into his long, lean frame had turned him on so much he had to duck into the men’s room and breathe deeply for a few minutes. They were beautiful together moving in time to the music, lips teasing around. Their bodies fit together like pieces of an erotic puzzle he was dying to get his hands on. He gnawed on the inside of his cheek, forcing the memory out of his brain lest he tent his tux pants all over again. He wanted them to do more, willed them to kiss and when they had he’d nearly leapt out of his skin.

  The band shifted gears, took on a funky beat with “Boogie Shoes.” Hannah walked by, tugged his arm, and they ended up on the dance floor for the next few songs. He laughed, watching her shimmy and shake, and at one point he held her close, bit her earlobe and felt her shiver. “Nice work with Nick, quite a show.”

  She turned her head, grabbed his neck and kissed him with an embarrassing ferocity. He was in tune enough to her signals by now and could practically feel her nipples hardening against his chest, could smell her lusty energy all around him. “Maybe,” she said, after loosening her lip lock on him. “You like to watch?”

  “I don’t think you’ll be terribly surprised to hear this but yes, I do.” He reached back and cupped her ass, drawing her closer.

  “Hmm…well, in the meantime, I think we should probably call it a night.” She danced away from him, shaking her hips and looking over her shoulder. He stood, hands in his pockets and watched her move away until something else caught his eye. He did a quarter turn, and saw Nick sitting with that cover model slash assistant slash fuck buddy Jake. Their faces were close. Jake was talking. Nick smiled, and the sight of it made Ian’s heart clench in his chest. When Nick took Jake’s hand and put it to his lips he had to look away. What in the name of all that was holy was he even thinking?

  Entertaining some kind of perverse fantasy about putting the two people he cared about, who possessed him in body and spirit, together—so he could watch them fuck? Jesus. You are a sick bastard, Donovan. The back of his neck got prickly so he turned around on reflex and looked at Nick again. The other man had his sunglasses off. The bright, clear green of his sightless eyes knocked Ian’s breath out of his lungs. He would swear that Nick could see him, really truly see. Jake put a hand on Nick’s shoulder then, and he stood, settling his Ray Bans back in place, his dog at his side. They made their way over to where Alyssa sat on Gavin’s lap.

  Ian smiled. His brother so deserved this after all those years of insanity at the hands of his ex-wife. But his smile faded as he watched Alyssa’s brother approach them, Jake’s huge possessive hand on his shoulder. Alyssa jumped up and gave Nick a hug. Gavin shook his hand, then Jake’s. Then the men walked out, and Ian was left with his fantasies, one in particular of landing a left hook to Jake’s jaw.

  “Hey,” he yelped when someone wrapped arms around his waist from behind. He drew the sexy red head around to his side. “You temptress. Look what you’ve done to me with your dance floor seductions.” He held her close, trying to quell the now near crystal clear vision of Nick, between Hannah’s legs, moving up her body and sliding into her while he stood behind them and…. “Jesus,” he said, when she put her hand right on his cock. “Slutty. I like it. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Nick woke, sat up and rubbed his face. No matter how many mornings he faced, it was always the same thing – the quick terror of darkness accompanied by frustration, then gloom when he remembered no matter what he did, his eyes would never cooperate. Brutus snuffled around next to him, pushing his hand and whining.

  “What is that fucking noise?” Jake grumbled on his other side. Nick sighed and swung his legs to the floor. He honestly did not remember agreeing to a sleep over but he’d been so down lately, more than usual after the wedding and strange encounter with Hannah that he didn’t have the energy to argue about it. “Nick, here,” he jumped when Jake poked his shoulder with the clanging phone. He didn’t recognize the ring so at least it wasn’t Alyssa, or Gavin each of whom had an assigned tone.

  “Yeah,” he croaked into the phone. “This had better be pretty fucking important.” He felt Jake’s hand on his bare shoulder but moved away from him at the sound of Ian’s voice.

  “Hey, yeah, it is. Sorry.”

  He jumped to his feet, knocking his big toe against the bedside table and cursing while jumping around and trying not to panic. “Shit. Is it Alyssa? What’s wrong?”

  “No, no, it’s not her. Relax. You okay?”

  “Yeah, what the hell is it then. Jesus.” He sat back down on the bed and rubbed his toe.

  “Something’s gone wrong at the brewery. We had a weird power outage around midnight and the generator kicked in but I can’t get the main computer to fire back up.”

  “So? Call your I.T. guy.”

  “He’s on vacation. Listen, Nick, if I don’t get the brewery back on-line I have something like a million gallons of beer that will spoil. Can you…I mean, I can come get you.”

  “What the fuck do you think I can do about it?” he kept his voice gruff, but his heart was lifting at the thought of being pulled into Ian’s orbit again, even if it were just over a likely easy computer fix.

  “I don’t know. Crap, I’m fucked. Never mind. I’ll figure something else out.”

  “Hang on, hang on,” Nick stood and stretched. He heard Jake’s soft exhalation and knew immediately the man was not happy. And he realized something else—he had to cut off his physical relationship with the guy. It wasn’t fair to him. Jake was a top notch business partner, finding them high level security computer problems to solve. But he, Nick, had to grow up and stop relying on Jake for sex just to stop the clanging noises in his head that demanded something more. He put his arm down and the dog slid into his grasp. “I need a quick shower. And will need a ride.”

  “I’ll be there in a half hour. Thanks.”

  After a stressful hour trying to get Hannah to relay all the messages the server kept burping up on the screen while he attempted to re-boot, the computer finally made the reassuring little sing-song indicating that Windows was back on line. She handed him the phone so he could talk to Ian who was down in the brewery anxiously waiting for the fermenter indicators to flash back to life.<
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  “Okay you should be good,” he said, shifting to the right in a vain attempt to get away from Hannah and her delicious scent. It was a little subdued in the wee hours of the morning, with a subtle overlay of Ian. He had no doubt where the two of them had come from, roused from their activity when the security guard called about the power cut.

  “Yep, they’re all flashing back to life thank god—no, thank you, Nick. Seriously.”

  “Eh, it’s fine. Easy.”

  “Okay I’ll be up in a few minutes. I need to re-set everything down here, make sure the bigger fermenters cool down properly.”

  “Sure, whatever.” He handed the phone to Hannah and leaned back, letting his fingers graze the reassuring fuzz of his dog’s ears. The animal made a concerned noise, shoved at his leg. And he knew why. The sudden realization that he was alone with Hannah—she of the amazing scent, now layered with the definite Ian one—had him sending anxious signals. Like he had the first time, when Nick had been so totally turned on by Ian. Brutus was tracking his anxiety and wanted to get his master away from what was causing it.

  He sighed, and forced his brain to be calm. But Hannah’s silence made him beyond nervous. He reached for the cup of coffee she’d brought him, sipped, set it down, and tried to figure out how to get the hell away from her before he did something he would regret—something he didn’t even really understand at the moment. “Oh, shit,” he groaned when he felt her hand on his neck, sliding up into his hair. She lifted his sunglasses off. Her lips covered his without a word and he let go of his death grip on the chair arms and gathered her close sucking in huge lungsful of her sweet, sultry scent. Her small tongue probed between his lips, forcing them apart, and he was not surprised to find she tasted as good as she smelled.

  She settled herself onto his lap, reminding him once more of the differences he had not given much thought to in the last fifteen years—the way a woman felt under his hands, soft, curvy, and in her case, light as air was a stark comparison to what he usually liked. Hard, rough, masculine bodies did it for him. Oh yeah, then why the fuck is your cock so hard it could cut diamonds right now, genius? Jesus H. Christ he wanted her. Wanted inside her, all over her, everything about her as long as she kept kissing him. His mind spun, trying to process, to stop him from this … thing…this female he had no business wanting, but did so badly he was about to burst at the seams.

  He slid his hand up her back, yanked her hair out of its ponytail and fisted both hands in the soft curls. She broke the kiss, leaned closer so his lips found her neck. He nibbled, licked and moaned as she ground down against his zipper. The noise she made down in her throat, the same one she’d made on the dance floor, floated into his ear. The honey essence of her took on a spicy, sexy note. Funny, how he never suspected that a turned on female would smell so… fuckable. The word nearly made him laugh as his hands roamed along her curves.

  “Oh,” she sighed when he found the mound of her breast, ran his thumb across the hard peaked nipple. Her back arched and she must have yanked her shirt aside, or off because before he knew it his lips were sucking, his teeth tugging at the most delicious flesh he could possibly imagine as he cradled the firm globe of her breast.

  He held both her breasts and went from one luscious nipple to the other. She kept rubbing against him, fisting her hands in his hair, the heat of her pussy making his cock twitch and leak beneath the jeans he’d thrown on after the shower. “God damn it,” he grunted when she slid her hand down his chest, shifting back ever so slightly so she could touch him. “You are, ah shit,” she fisted him, her hand small, cool on his aching shaft. “Don’t,” he whispered into her skin, moving back up to find her lips. “Seriously, I mean it,” but his words were soft and his hips moved of their own accord, thrusting and seeking more serious contact.

  “You want me, Nick?” She whispered, her teeth grazing his earlobe.

  “What? You can’t tell?” He grunted softly. A sudden rush of nearly painful lust shot through him, making him tremble. He gripped her hips, holding her still. “But I will tell you one thing,” he said, when she brought her luscious lips back near his.

  “What’s that?” She licked his lower lip, bit it, keeping up her hand action on his cock. He turned his head.

  “I don’t know if I want him watching or not.”

  She jerked away, leaving Nick panting in the seat. He pulled his jeans back up. His brain buzzed as the loop of fantasy ran through him once more—one starring the lovely woman who’d been on the verge of hand-jobbing him to climax and the man he knew hovered nearby and who had been there for at least the last ten minutes, watching them.

  “Uh, sorry,” Ian’s rough voice betrayed how he felt. But Nick’s face flushed and he stood, grabbing the dog’s lead, furious indignation mingled with embarrassment replacing all the lusty energy he’d been riding for the last few minutes.

  “I don’t know what you people are playing at but the last thing I need is any more brain fucking. Got it?” He let the dog lead him to the door, to an elevator and down. The funky, malty brewery smells he’d learned to associate with his sister enveloped him. Weird, burbling sounds, combined with metal pings and clanks made Brutus skitter closer to him, bumping against his leg and nearly shoving him over. He ached with a need he refused to admit and his chest burned with a combination of humiliation and fury. “How the fuck do I get out of here?” Then it hit him. Even if he could find his way out, he had no way to get home. Because he was blind and helpless, at the mercy of people who could do normal things, like drive a car.

  He shook, and backed up until his ass connected with something that felt like a chair and he sat, his face in his hands. The one thing he’d felt confident about —the core truth of his own sexuality that had forced him away from his family, made him hide his real self just so he could let the military form him into something new, he’d never doubted. He clung to it, recalling in a breathless rush his time with the professor, with Dan, his rough and raw encounters with Ian, Jake’s gentle, careful lovemaking.

  But images and memories of the women he’d fucked, their light, curvy, welcoming bodies, long hair, distinct, tantalizing odors shoved all that out, made him grit his teeth. He yanked the sunglasses off, willed his eyes sighted, and himself whole again. Maybe he wouldn’t have all this conflict if he didn’t feel so fucking useless. Complex, distressing emotion boiled through him. He clenched his fists. The dog bumped against him, whining. “Stop it,” he muttered. “Just leave me the fuck alone.” He stood, the restless energy of an unconsummated erotic moment making him antsy. He sat, then stood again, and let the deep dark reality of his dependence—his stupid god damned handicap—suffuse him.

  When a masculine hand landed on his shoulder he leapt up and gripped the arm attached to it. “Take me home,” he grunted. “Now.”

  Ian must have opened a door not a foot from him. Nick set his shoulders and let the dog lead him out. The ride home was quiet, and tense beyond belief. Nick sensed Ian’s need to speak but hoped he would stay quiet. He did.

  Ian parked, keeping the engine running. Nick startled when Ian touched his thigh. “Don’t fucking touch me.” But his voice was low, soft and when he lifted his face and found Ian’s lips it was exactly what he wanted.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Hannah’s face boiled as she looked from one man to the other. Nick sat, chest heaving, jeans tented but with fury etched into his face. Ian stood in the door, hanging on to the doorjamb, his jaw set, but eyes unreadable. Nick’s words about being mind-fucked went straight to her gut. She put out a hand, sick at herself, at what she’d done. But Ian brushed by her, saying nothing more. She stood, staring at the man she would swear she loved, if she’d let herself admit it. Why she felt compelled by the young, handsome, wounded Nick Traynor she had no idea. It nearly made her sick to her stomach, but there it was, nonetheless. A connection she wanted—with them both, god help her. But it was wrong, and she had hurt Nick. And for that she was more sorry than she�
�d ever been as the caretaker in her clicked in and kicked her proverbial ass for what she’d just done.

  “Oh, I’m, um…shit. I didn’t mean to…” She shook, gripping her elbows, willing Ian to come to her, hold her and tell it was okay. Assure her that she had not taken utter advantage of a hot, blind guy just to prove something.

  “I don’t know what you think about him Hannah, but he’s right. You can’t just jump him like that. It’s not how….” He looked down, as if gathering his thoughts. “Just leave him alone, okay? I won’t bring it up again. He can’t…he won’t…we shouldn’t do this.” He turned and headed for the stairwell.

  She dropped into the chair Nick had vacated, still feeling him, tasting his lips. Tears pressed against her eyes but she forced them back. No crying. She was not going to cry over this.

  She tried to think, to process the complex knot of her thoughts. He’d worked on the computers, focusing; doing his job, while she attempted to help and relay what was on the screen so he could figure out how to fix it. She could not take her eyes off him the entire time. His shoulders were broad, not as quite a wide span as Ian’s but compact, suitable to his shorter frame. And the soft grey Marine T-shirt highlighted this biceps, molding to his torso. She’d sat, staring at him, loving the heat of his proximity even as he cursed and hollered at her to give him every detail of the messages on the recalcitrant computer screen.

  His thick, golden hair had grown even more. It brushed his neck, with a slight curl at the end. His dark stubbled jaw begged for her fingers. He bit his lip as he worked the computer keyboard quickly and efficiently. Her hand shook but she kept reaching for him then retreating, reconsidering her every move. The dog eyed her, but when she touched his head he seemed to calm.