Secret

by Kindle Alexander

  “You look great. Incredible actually. Let me have your jacket. I’ll hang it up,” Tristan said, helping Dylan from his coat. “I have a pretty loaded bar. What would you like to drink?”

  Tristan hung the jacket on a coatrack and placed a hand on Dylan’s lower back. He hoped his Southern manners kept him by the door until he was invited in, not the panic that coursed through his eyes.

  “I swore I wasn’t drinking tonight, but one or two should be fine. What are you having?” Dylan asked, walking inside the room until Tristan left him and went to the bar.

  “I poured a glass of wine right before you got here, but we can switch to something non-alcoholic,” Tristan replied, looking around for anything in the bar that was suitable to drink.

  “No, the wine’s fine,” Dylan said, coming to stand close to the bar. “I’ll have a glass of whatever you’re having.”

  “You smell incredible,” Tristan mumbled softly as he poured. That earned him silence and he smiled down at the glass. He missed these little shy moments with Dylan. They were the first things he’d noticed about the guy and the most impactful on his heart. “I had planned to sit and talk for a little while, but dinner’s ready now. Do you want to eat or wait a bit?”

  “I’m easy. Whatever’s good.” Dylan took his wineglass.

  “Let’s eat. The chef’s a bit of a diva. The waitstaff’s been in here about a half dozen times. It’ll get rid of them sooner.” Tristan reached for the phone on the end table. He picked up the receiver and dialed a number, simply saying, “We’re ready,” before he hung up. “Come this way.”

  Dylan stood there, nervous as hell, questioning why he had even agreed to come. He’d known not to do this when Tristan asked. Friends? What? Friends didn’t gently caress your back as they led you into a room. Friends didn’t dress in expensive suits and invite you to have dinner in their room with wine and waiters.

  No matter how much pain he’d endured, Dylan could see no reason to extend their perfect weekend together. It would only cause more heartache for both of them, him especially, in the end. Tristan was perfect in every way. Blond, tall, with those damn broad, muscular shoulders that seemed larger in that perfectly cut suit jacket—his complete dream man.

  He couldn’t let himself go back down that path. The last two weeks had been hell. He had responsibilities and an amazing family to worry over. He didn’t have time for games. Certainly not games that were now so close to home.

  He resisted the urge to run his fingers over his face, but he did drain his wineglass in a couple of swallows. And seriously, what happened to his no alcohol whatsoever plan? Tristan and alcohol never worked out well for him.

  Now, as the minutes ticked by, it seemed his new game plan hinged on staying quiet and out of the way. Not a good one to help initiate or further any conversation, but since he had no idea what to say and felt completely in over his head, it seemed the best option.

  He trailed after Tristan, following a step or two behind. Only then did he notice the romantic ambiance of the room. Candles flickered, soft music played in the background, and flower bouquets were everywhere. Almost the same bouquet was artfully arranged in several different locations around the room. He stopped following and took a closer look at one of them. They were hollyhock bouquets in different colors, placed around the living room and dining room. The centerpiece in the middle of the table was an intricate design of smaller cut hollyhocks with deep red roses tucked carefully together, set between the two place settings.

  “Is this a coincidence?” Dylan asked without hesitation, looking straight at Tristan. It was hard to gauge the expression. Uncertainty crossed Tristan’s face which made no sense.

  “A coincidence?” Tristan asked. The question sounded like a dodge, so that meant something in the answer. Dylan stood there and looked straight at him. This said too much. Dylan remembered clearly running along that trail. He’d slowed down on purpose. As toned and muscular as Tristan was, he was definitely not a runner. Dylan came to his first stop in a field of wildflowers. He’d bought Teri flowers over the years and knew these were rare, but to have them growing on the side of a cliff gave him the perfect excuse to slow down, give Tristan the break he needed without drawing attention to why he’d stopped.

  “These aren’t easy to find around here.” Dylan plucked a bloom and walked toward the table where Tristan stood.

  “I didn’t have a problem getting them,” Tristan replied in an even clearer dodge. Everything changed in that moment. This whole thing, from the wine to the flowers to the expensive clothing, had Dylan looking at Tristan in a new light for the first time since they’d met. He’d gone to a tremendous amount of trouble to put this dinner together. This was pure romance, just for him. The playing field changed right then.

  “Thank you for remembering.” Dylan placed the stem at the top of the place setting where Tristan had set his empty glass.

  “Sir, would you like some more wine?”

  Dylan turned to see a young man standing there. Black slacks, a white button-down, black tie, and a black apron. Dylan hadn’t even noticed him enter the room. After a second or two of both Tristan and the waiter staring at him, he realized the waiter must have been talking to him.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Wine. Would you like more?” the waiter asked, pointing to the empty glass in his hand.

  He should stop now, switch to water, especially after that last revelation, but instead, he extended his hand to the waiter. “Yeah, thanks.”

  “How about you, sir?” The waiter turned to Tristan.

  “Please,” Tristan said, picking up his almost empty glass from the table.

  “Here, take a seat,” Tristan said, pulling out the chair in front of him. It was a sweet move, just like everything else in the room tonight, and Dylan took the seat with Tristan helping to push him up to the table. Dylan dropped the napkin in his lap as Tristan placed a hand on the table and bent in close, his breath caressing his skin as he spoke softly.

  “I noticed your appreciation of the flowers when we ran. When I planned our date night, I wanted you to see I paid attention. It seems silly now. I don’t date a lot. I had to go way back to my dates with girls in high school and there weren’t many of those. I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable,” Tristan whispered quietly behind him, leaning in close to his ear. Dylan kept his head slightly bent, listening to every word Tristan had to say. Heat ran through his body in response to Tristan’s words.

  The confession helped him see that they were both nervous. Who would have thought Tristan would ever want him?

  “It’s not silly at all,” Dylan replied.

  “Then look at me,” Tristan said in his ear. Dylan lifted his head, but Tristan stayed in his personal space. They were mere inches apart.

  “It’s special,” Dylan whispered at the uncertainty he was met with.

  “Can I kiss you?” Tristan asked, leaning in, not waiting for permission. He kept the kiss small, lingering for a minute longer before taking his seat. Dylan was left slightly devastated, all his conscious thought vanished at the press of Tristan’s lips. His wineglass was placed in front of him. He might have uttered a thank you, but couldn’t be certain. Dylan lifted the glass and took another long gulp, needing the liquid courage from the alcohol. Something, anything, to take the edge off the intensity of the last few minutes.

  Tristan hadn’t imagined the thrill he’d get from the quiver of Dylan’s lips. He’d stayed there a little longer than planned just to feel it again. He inhaled Dylan’s scent mixed with spicy cologne. He loved that smell. Dylan’s silence and hesitancy since he’d walked inside the room had made his own nervousness heighten. When Dylan stopped at the flowers and then looked up at him, he’d thought for sure that look meant he’d made way more out of their time together than Dylan had.

  Thankfully the waiter gave him the second or two to compose himself. Honesty was such a good policy. One he lived his life on. He’d confessed and Dylan seemed to
be flattered by his admission. Which technically was exactly what he wanted to happen.

  “You’ve got an incredible restaurant here in this town. Wolfgang prepared our meals himself,” Tristan said, dropping his napkin in his lap. Dylan looked blankly at him and that caused him to smile. He reached out and took Dylan’s hand, linking their fingers together on top of the table. These were the things that Dylan did so well. He allowed Tristan the simple pleasure of holding his hand or giving a slight caress. They touched his heart in a way that nothing else ever had before.

  “I planned our menu. I hope you’re good with the selections,” Tristan said again, leaning in and lifting Dylan’s fingers to his lips for a soft kiss. “I kept it healthy. I saw how you ate in California.”

  “Thank you,” Dylan replied. There was that look again. That stunned look. Dylan was such a strong, well-constructed man, but he clearly wasn’t used to people looking out for him. Tristan filed that little piece of information in the back of his mind. If this continued between them, he could see that he needed to spend the time making Dylan feel as special as he could and somehow Tristan knew he was up for the task.

  The dinner went off without a hitch, everything turning out as he had meticulously planned. Dylan raved about the delicious food as dishes were removed and, per the pre-discussed arrangements, the waitstaff left the bottle of wine close to Tristan. They remained scarce throughout the meal and scooted out the door when they were done serving the last course. The dessert was left in a covered dish inside the refrigerator. After a while and with only two glasses of wine under his belt, Dylan started to relax and open up.

  “Would you like dessert?” Tristan smiled.

  “No, I’m stuffed. Maybe later,” Dylan said, placing his napkin on the table.

  “So, how are your children?” Tristan asked, touching on a subject they’d only talked a little bit about, but in his rehearsal of topics of discussion for tonight, Dylan’s children were top on the list. They were incredibly important to Dylan so Tristan needed to get to know them.

  “Good, I think. I haven’t seen them much. I’ve been a little out of sorts. I think everyone’s keeping their distance,” Dylan said, nodding at his statement. He lifted his wineglass, taking a small drink this time.

  “They’re good kids?” Tristan questioned, moving away from the moodiness Teri said and Dylan hinted he’d been experiencing. That conversation would close Dylan up and he didn’t want that. Tristan reached over with the bottle of wine, topping off Dylan’s wineglass. He figured Dylan would be conscious of drinking and driving. He seemed like that kind of guy, so if he drank a little too much, he’d need to stay longer to sober up. That could possibly lead to make-out time.

  “So far they’ve been great. They’re expensive. I think I told you, Chad’s going to Duke in the fall. Cate’s planning on Harvard. Chloe’s at the University of Oklahoma, but she’s recently talked about moving to a northern school, something a little more progressive.”

  “Chloe’s the oldest?” Tristan asked, taking a drink of his wine. He’d only let go of Dylan’s hand long enough to allow them to eat. He’d resumed the hand-holding the minute they were through. Dylan hadn’t resisted and was finally participating in the finger play he’d started.

  “She’s a freshman at OU,” Dylan responded. “We had them back to back.”

  “And they have no idea? Teri’s the only one besides me that knows about you?” Tristan asked and Dylan nodded.

  “What’re your plans after they leave?” For the first time in a couple of hours, Dylan grew completely quiet. Tristan watched the almost visible withdrawal. “No, don’t close up. The subject’s none of my business. Got it. I’d just like to get to know you better. I can stick with the other parts of your life.”

  “It’s not that. I just don’t really know what’ll happen. I see Teri getting a little antsy. When we decided to do things this way, we were young with babies. Thirty-seven seemed so old. It’s not as old as we thought,” Dylan said and Tristan smiled. He understood.

  “We aren’t that far off from each other.” Tristan laughed at the crazy look Dylan gave him. “We aren’t. I’ve spent the last twenty years building Wilder. The market was nonexistent when I started. You’re the one that’s helped me see that maybe there’s more to life than the newest technology that’s consumed me.”

  “How did I do that?” Dylan asked, clearly not believing him. Tristan paused. He pushed back a little in his chair and reached for his wine, drinking the glass down. Dylan kept an expectant gaze on him.

  “Too many ways to say. The biggest ones are the honor and integrity you live by every day. No one does that. Stop shaking your head. No one does that, Dylan,” Tristan said.

  “I’m small beans in your life,” Dylan started, but Tristan leaned in, placing a finger over his lips.

  “Stop. You’re the only person in my life that doesn’t want anything from me,” Tristan said, watching those lips, wishing his were covering them and not his hand.

  “Have you forgotten how I met you?” Dylan asked with Tristan’s hand still on his lips. Tristan laughed at that one.

  “I believe my team found your company, and if I remember correctly, I’m paying you far less than your company’s actually worth. That doesn’t mean you should raise the price,” Tristan added with a smile. “I’m interested in you, more than I’ve been in anyone before.”

  Dylan remained quiet and Tristan let the statement stand there between them.

  “I don’t understand why,” Dylan finally responded.

  “You smell incredible.”

  “That’s the dinner you just served us,” Dylan said, the smile was back. That smile was rare and stirred him to a full hard-on.

  He’d done a poor job at keeping distance between them. He knew what he felt for Dylan, and those feelings were solid. Holding back wouldn’t change them in the end. Tristan leaned forward, watching Dylan intently as he pulled him closer. Dylan didn’t deny him, although uncertainty loomed in his eyes. After a moment’s pause, he bent in to Dylan’s neck. “Fuck it. I’m the one that’s gonna be hurt in this deal anyway.”

  Tristan took a deep breath, drawing Dylan’s scent inside him. He ran his nose along the skin of Dylan’s neck, loving the little shiver he got in return. “The way you smell… I love it.”

  “What does that mean—you getting hurt?” Dylan asked without any acknowledgment to his last comment. Tristan lifted a hand to Dylan’s neck, holding him in place when it looked like he might pull away. He made a mistake and glanced down at those lips, so perfect and full. Dylan had amazing lips.

  “Kiss me, Dylan.” Tristan slid his tongue across Dylan’s lips, tentatively testing his reaction. This was his chance. He had to know. Did Dylan share his feelings? Dylan opened and Tristan delved in, his tongue searching Dylan’s sweet taste. He wrapped his hands around Dylan’s lower biceps and stood, drawing him up against his body. This was what he’d been waiting for all night. And no matter how many different ways he’d told himself he wouldn’t push Dylan tonight, there would be no way to stop him unless Dylan put a halt to it himself.

  Between the wine and Dylan’s incredible company, Tristan’s body was hard and ready. He couldn’t remember having to show this much restraint ever. Okay, maybe not ever…because he had been just this way with this man before. The time and distance of the last couple of weeks felt like the longest drought of his life.

  “Wait, Tristan. Why would you be hurt?” Dylan pulled slightly away to ask the question.

  Only under the need to kiss Dylan again did Tristan give in and quickly answer, “I’m very into you.”

  Dylan widened his eyes at the declaration and stared back at him. He still hadn’t caught on. The buyout, the trip, everything he’d done for a simple dinner… “And you’re buried deep, with a strong life plan that you’ve been living for years that doesn’t include me. There’s no way this will end well for me, but not taking the few moments you’re willing to give me seems li
ke a far worse fate. So kiss me, Dylan. Please. And call your family, stay with me tonight. We’ll deal with tomorrow later.”

  Tristan turned his head and captured Dylan’s mouth with his own. Dylan met him halfway and wrapped him tightly in his arms. If actions spoke louder than words, then the possessive hold and the intensity of Dylan’s kiss proved he liked everything Tristan had just confessed.

  Damn, he swore being in Dylan’s arms felt like home.

  Dylan found himself pushed backward, and Tristan never broke from the kiss. Something solid hit the back of his legs and stopped his feet from moving, but his upper body kept going. In order to stop from falling, Dylan had to take his hands from Tristan to balance himself, something he really didn’t want to do. Tristan held on tight, holding most of his weight, completely in control of this moment as he lowered Dylan back on an oversized leather sofa and climbed on top of him.

  Tristan was relentless as he devoured him, positioning Dylan’s head, driving his tongue deeper, making love to him with his mouth. The soft sensual strokes of Tristan’s tongue were mind-blowing. He’d missed Tristan, missed his taste and missed the intimacy they shared. Tristan slid a knee between his thighs to separate them. Dylan scooted lower on the couch, spreading his legs, giving Tristan better access to grind against him.

  Dylan pulled at Tristan’s shirt, tugging the material free from his slacks. He craved skin on skin with a need unlike anything he’d ever known. The moment his palms touched the warm, bare skin of Tristan’s back, he lost it. A strangled moan pierced the silence of the hotel room. He’d only known it was his own voice because Tristan was busy whispering naughty promises against his ear. He hadn’t planned on any of this, hadn’t thought he’d need Tristan’s touch so desperately. He’d been very wrong.

  Tristan reached low inside his slacks and palmed his dick. He circled Dylan’s tip with a thumb. His strokes were long and slow, tight and fast, and the sensations became too much. Dylan bucked himself against Tristan’s palm as he worked his belt free and his slacks undone. He shoved his underwear down and tore free of the kiss as he arched his back, lost in the pleasure Tristan gave him. “It feels too good,” he hissed.