by Megan Slayer
I knew I fell for you for a reason. Tate rolled over and faced Raine. He threaded his fingers into Raine’s hair and feasted on Raine’s mouth. Now he’d memorize every inch of the man who held his heart in both hands.
* * * *
Nine months later…
Raine perched on the planter and crossed his ankles. His heart hammered. Since Tate had left back in April, he’d spent every day writing letters by hand and sending emails whenever he’d nabbed the chance. When he worked on his papers and projects, he thought about Tate. The few times Tate had been able to call, their conversations were punctuated with phone sex and heavy breathing. He cherished those moments with Tate. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with him. Was he moving too fast? Probably, but he didn’t care. No man affected him the way Tate had and he couldn’t wait to shout to the world how much he loved him.
But damn… He had some huge things to tell him, too. His stomach ached and he closed his eyes for a moment to gather himself. He’d kept a gigantic piece of information secret and he wasn’t sure how Tate would react. What if Tate left him or said he couldn’t be with a one-armed man? What if he laughed? He doubted Tate would laugh, but still. A dull ache started behind his eyes. Please, God, don’t let him laugh.
Raine clutched his cell phone in his hand. He’d called Tate’s mother in case she wanted to meet him when his plane landed, but she’d refused and he didn’t press the issue. He doubted she’d choose the last minute to show up. Her telling him to fuck himself was his biggest clue.
He blew out a long breath and opened his eyes. According to the big board listing the flights, Tate should be there at any moment. His hand shook and he tapped his foot on the shiny tiled floor. He tucked the phone into his back pocket and grabbed the sign he’d made, then stood.
A few moments later, Tate strode down the short corridor to the waiting area. Seeing him stole Raine’s breath. The weariness from his stint in Korea showed in the new crinkles around his eyes. Or was he just tired from the long-ass flight? Instead of walking right up to Raine, Tate stopped in the middle of the baggage claim.
Raine snorted. How could he miss me? I’ve got a sign. “Tate?”
Tate turned on his heel and stared at Raine. His eyes widened and a smile stretched across his face. He surged over to where Raine stood. When he reached him, he dropped his bags and threw his arms around Raine. “Christ, man, I missed you.” He peppered his face with kisses. “So much.”
Raine held him tightly and rested his head on Tate’s shoulder. “Missed you, too.” Tears burned at the corners of his eyes. Tate had to know something was up.
He brushed his lips across Raine’s neck. “You can put the sign down and hug me with both arms.” He leaned back enough to look Raine in the eye. “I might bite, but you’d like it.”
“I would,” Raine replied. He averted his gaze. “I… We need to talk.” Shit. Here goes nothing… “Tate.” How was he supposed to say, hey, my arm is missing? Blurt it out? The speech he’d practiced left his brain.
Tate tensed and recoiled from Raine. “You met someone else.”
“No.” He met Tate’s gaze. He frowned. “I love you. Why would I date anyone else?” He’d blurted those words out, but didn’t regret saying them. Hell, telling Tate he loved him was so much easier than explaining the accident.
He stared at Raine for what seemed like an eternity. “You love me?”
“Uh, yeah. Since pretty much the moment I met you.” Raine half grinned. The tension between him and Tate was still strong, but not as bad as he’d expected. “But that wasn’t what I had to tell you.” He wobbled his head. The sourness in his stomach returned and his head ached. “Well, it was the other half.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s complicated.” Fuck. He opened his mouth twice, but closed it again. The words weren’t there.
“Whatever it is, I’ve got two weeks of nothing to do besides fix the complication. Spit it out because I love you, too, and I’m not leaving here without you.” Tate held onto Raine again.
Instead of hugging him back, Raine stiffened in his embrace. He wished he had both arms to hug Tate with and to feel complete again.
Tate swept his gaze over Raine, then his eyebrows bunched. He grasped Raine’s shoulder. His eyes flashed and he massaged the place where Raine’s arm had been. “Where is the rest of you?” Tate asked. “Tell me.”
“That’s the complication.” Raine laughed, but the gesture didn’t hide his discomfort. His stomach seemed to drop to his toes. He needed to sit down or at least lean against something. He still wasn’t sure how Tate would take the news. So far, he didn’t seem happy.
“Jesus.” He clutched Raine’s jaw in his hands. “What in the hell happened?”
“Come over here.” Raine nodded to a quieter corner of the baggage claim. He grabbed one of Tate’s bags and rushed away. He needed to put space between him and Tate.
“Tell. Me. Now.” Tate grabbed Raine by his good shoulder and trailed his fingers over the place where Raine’s arm should’ve been. His touch seared Raine and offered only a little comfort. He’d kept one hell of a secret from Tate and he expected Tate to be angry.
Raine raked his fingers through his hair, then met Tate’s gaze again. “Three months ago, on Halloween, I was in a car accident.” His breath lodged in his throat. Damn it. He should be telling Tate everything, not faltering. He wasn’t whole and Tate deserved a man without issues. Raine had plenty of issues.
“Raine.” Tate stared at him and didn’t say anything for a moment. He toyed with Raine’s sleeve, but didn’t lift it. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I knew you’d get mad and you had too much to worry about over there in Korea. If those planes didn’t get off the ground, we’d never have made progress against that militant group. My stupid accident wasn’t much and I healed. Now you’re home and we can deal with it.” His excuses weren’t good. He should’ve said something to Tate from the first, but he hadn’t wanted him to freak out. Tate was doing something important for his country. It wasn’t like Tate could put his arm back on for him. What he could do was continue to protect everyone’s liberty.
“Raine. You lost a piece of your goddamn body. You could’ve been killed. What would I have done without you?” He grabbed Raine’s good arm and dug his fingers into his skin. “I can’t believe you wouldn’t tell me. Progress against a fucking military group means nothing if I don’t have you to come home to.”
“I didn’t think that far ahead.” The tips of Raine’s ears burned. He’d made a huge mistake by keeping quiet. “I focused on healing and therapy so you wouldn’t… I don’t know. Not want me?” The fear he’d be rejected strengthened. He’d screwed up and now Tate was angry. Way to go.
“Have you lost your mind?” Tate growled. He let go of Raine and threaded his fingers together behind his head. He stepped away from Raine. “There is so much I want to say.” He turned back to face Raine. “Part of me wants to clock you for keeping this quiet. Part of me wants to throttle whoever did this to you. I’m so close to going postal on someone’s ass. What happened?”
He sagged onto the planter and sighed. The damage had been done—to the relationship and his body. He had to tell Tate everything now. “Blake and his friends went to a Halloween party and needed a ride home. I wasn’t drinking that night because I had a paper to finish and others to grade.” Raine shrugged to hide his discomfort. He’d learned how to downplay his feelings about his arm in order to make others more comfortable with the situation. “We got to Oak Street when a carload of girls ran the red light. They’d been at the same party and were totally wasted. They broadsided me in the middle of the intersection. My arm was pinned in the car door. I don’t know how any of us survived.” Raine’s eyes misted over. He couldn’t hold back his emotions any longer. “Blake and his friends walked away with bruises. I lost my arm.”
“God damn Blake,” Tate snarled. “The fucker always gets his way—you’re hurt and he’s fine. What abou
t the girls? Someone had better be paying for this.”
Raine nodded. He hadn’t considered Blake or the girls. Why? The past was done and over. “They were charged with drunkenness in public and the girl who was behind the wheel got nabbed for operating a motor vehicle while under the influence and having a blood alcohol level of .114.” Raine shook his head and his smile faltered. He wasn’t going to be able to hold back for much longer. “Everything on me still works, but instead of bear hugs, you’ve got to put up with the one-armed kind.” A tear slipped down his cheek. “I promised I wouldn’t get upset. I wanted to be happy and cheery because you’re home, not falling apart because of something I can’t change.”
Tate’s shoulders sank and he sighed. “Crying doesn’t bother me—I’d be offended if you didn’t.” He bridged the gap and embraced Raine. “As for the hugs, I love them any way you give them as long as they’re from you. It’ll take some time to get used to you only having one arm, but it doesn’t change my feelings,” Tate said. “Love you.” He tightened his arms around Raine and sighed again, but when he pressed his face to Raine’s neck, he sobbed. “I’m sorry, babe. Fuck. I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for.” Raine petted Tate’s short hair. He breathed in his scent and brushed his cheek against the side of his head. He might have lost his arm, but he could’ve sworn Tate had lost weight. “You got thinner. They don’t feed you over there?”
Tate leaned back, but kept hold of Raine. Tears shimmered on his face. “You’re trying to switch attention from you to me. Nice move.” He rested his forehead against Raine’s. “They did, but I would’ve killed for a soggy pizza with you.”
“Same here.” Raine wiped Tate’s tears. “Why don’t we go home? I like a good touching scene at the airport, but I’d rather be alone with you.”
Tate nodded and let go of Raine. He picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder, then draped his garment bag over his arm. The color returned to his face and his eyes glittered. He grasped Raine’s hand with his free one. “So. We love each other. Now what?”
“We go back to my apartment for sex,” Raine said. “I’ve replenished my supply of rubbers and lube. We shouldn’t run out for a few days.” He and Tate had managed to overcome the stumbling block. If they could handle time apart and his lost limb, they could deal with anything.
“That’s the best plan I’ve ever heard and a great challenge.” He fell into step beside Raine. “Take me home, professor.”
“I’m not a professor, yet. I’m still a grad student, airman.” He wound his arm around Tate’s and squeezed Tate’s hand. “But I like when you call me that.”
“Then Professor, it is.”
Raine grinned as he left the main terminal. He’d learned so much from Tate—how to let go, how to live again and how to love unconditionally. Tate had managed to patch together Raine’s wounded heart and make him whole again. He cherished the two nights he’d spent with Tate and couldn’t wait to make a lifetime of memories with him, now that they had their shot at forever—together.
Also available from Pride Publishing:
What’s his Passion?: Wild Card
Megan Slayer
Excerpt
Chapter One
Just a few more movies and he’d be done. Kris Hunter curled the pages of the script in both hands. A dull ache started behind his eyes. He’d become popular in the adult film industry but desperately wanted to get out. Starring in porn paid the bills, but didn’t soothe his primal need to create. Shouting ‘take that cock up your ass now’ got old after a while.
He raked his fingers through his hair and read through his lines again. There wasn’t much to the script. A few lines about getting to know his playmate, then naked time. God. He’d been asked to star in another first experience flick. He should’ve known better.
If he wanted to get out of the business, he’d have to star in a few more films and bank up the rest of the money he needed. Time to get his head into the game.
“It’s your first time? A sexy man like you? Can’t be.”
Kris nodded. He needed to get into the headspace of a guy who wanted to hook up with a younger man. Gag. At twenty-seven, he wasn’t that fucking old. Still, he needed the money to fund his dream. He formed an image of his costar in his mind. Although he wasn’t attracted to the other performer, Kris did his best to act the part.
“That’s right,” Kris murmured. “You know how to kiss.”
His costar, Garig Ross, strode into the living room. “Are you actually practicing your lines?”
Kris opened his eyes. He hadn’t realized he’d closed them. “Go fuck yourself.”
“Now that’s not the way to entice me to want to be fucked by you.” Garig shrugged out of his street clothes. Unlike Kris, Garig seemed to love being nude. He folded his jeans and tucked his things into his duffle bag. “You’re supposed to make me at least kind of want to be with you.”
“I don’t want to be here or with you.” Kris dropped the script onto his bag. “I’m tired of these movies.”
“So?” Garig shook out the ripped denim. He waved the jeans around. “This won’t cover my ass.”
“That’s the point. You’re supposed to look young, interested, and green as hell but ready to take a seven-inch cock up your tight ass.” Kris rolled his eyes. “You’re young, but you are no virgin.”
“Don’t you know it.” Garig stepped into the jeans, then slid his cowboy boots back on. He admired his ass in the mirror. “Papa likes what he sees.”
If Kris had been on the prowl for a date and wasn’t picky, he might have hooked up with Garig for real. The guy was handsome. From his perfectly styled hair combed to appear as if he’d rolled straight out of bed, down his chiseled body to his sculpted legs, he personified sexy. Most guys wanted to fuck him—except Kris.
He’d made fifteen flicks with Garig. None of them endeared Garig to him. The guy might be hot, but he was also a hot mess. He dropped his pants for everyone and God only knew if he was careful.
“We’re going to do this thing.” Garig wriggled into the vest. His pierced nipples glinted in the light. “What are you saving all that money for?”
“Nothing.” Kris glanced in the mirror and slicked his hair back. He never wore his hair forward in the films. The combed-back style made him feel like the character rather than himself. Maybe that was crazy, but he preferred having the bit of separation.
He tucked his wallet, keys and phone into his bag, then stripped down to his running pants and the tank top. According to the script, he was supposed to start out on his balcony. Garig would be on the balcony next door, flirting.
He closed his eyes again. Three more films and he’d have enough money. A momentary vision popped into his brain. He didn’t want to be in front of the camera without his clothes. He’d be making actual movies with plots and good actors. Even if he had to fund the damn thing himself, he was going to be a real actor in a real movie. He opened his eyes. Get the film done and move forward.
“All right. Let’s go,” the director said. He pointed to Kris. “Your condoms and lube are beside the bed.”
“You’d make so much more money if you’d just do these bare.” Garig shrugged. “I’m raking it in.”
“I’m fine with what I’m doing.” At least when they worked, he knew he was safe. Kris made his way through the bedroom and stopped on the balcony.
“You’re going to chat him up. Stick to the script if you want, but you have to say he’s a hot piece of ass and you want to do him,” the director said. He clapped Kris on the shoulder. “Just make it sound intelligent and like you really want him.”
God. Kris stood on the balcony and gripped the railing. Three years before, he’d have considered throwing himself over the edge. Too many demons remained with him. He shook off the black feelings and focused on the job at hand.
“Ready? Action.” The director pointed to him. The camera clicked.
Time to shine. Kris gripped the railing
again and stared at the city below. The palm trees waved in the slight breeze. Cars zipped down the street.
“There is nothing happening in this city.” He sighed. “Nothing.”
Garig appeared on his own balcony. “I don’t know about that.”
“Oh?” Kris leaned against his railing. “You’re new.”
“I am, and in more ways than you know.” Garig grinned. “Where’s your boyfriend?”
Ah. They weren’t following the script at all. Kris folded his hands. “I’m single. You?”
“Ready to mingle,” Garig replied. “Let me come over.”
“The door is open.” Kris nodded toward the other side of the apartment. “Let yourself in.”
“Cut,” the director shouted. “Reset. Good take.”
Kris groaned. He knew what to do next. Hell, he’d been a professional in the adult world since he’d turned twenty-one, six years ago. But he wanted more out of life. Unfortunately, life didn’t want him to graduate beyond the blow jobs and anal sex on camera. He thought back to his high school career. He’d nailed the Shakespeare plays and the dippy romantic comedies the drama club insisted on presenting every spring. He loved the rush of performing and the grit of having to work with others for that play to turn out right.
He glanced over at Garig. The only acting he’d get to do now would be to appear to be interested in what was going on. Another player strolled into the room. Not a grip or a camera man. Kris studied the new guy. Young and very eager. The kid practically bounced over to the director.
“Who?” Kris heard the director ask. “Oh. Over there. You know what to do.”
The kid crossed the room and stood in front of Kris. He didn’t say anything, just stared at him.
“Hello.” Kris backed away from the guy. “What do you want?”
“I’m your fluffer.” The guy batted his eyelashes. His brown eyes twinkled. “I’m supposed to get you ready.”