by Mary Calmes
"Oh? Why not?"
"'Cause I said so."
"And you're the boss of him, are you?"
He looked back down into my eyes and stroked his fingers up my throat to my jaw. "Yep. He's mine."
And that basically ended any plans that Christine Montero had for she and Sam Kage.
"What would possess you to say that?" I asked him fifteen minutes later as we stood in the kitchen with salad and Chianti, the veal having left with Christine.
"Say what?"
"Are you kidding? You basically outed yourself in front of those people."
"Why do you care?"
"'Cause you tell me you're not gay and then you go and announce to those people that you are and—"
"I didn't tell those people I was gay."
"Yeah, ya pretty much did."
He shrugged broad shoulders. "So what?"
I was floored.
"Why're you lookin' at me like that?"
"You're amazing."
The smile was wicked and brought out his dimples.
"Thanks."
"It's not a compliment," I clarified for him.
He laughed at me and I realized how much he was enjoying this.
I hoped my scowl was as dark as I was trying for. "And it was a really crappy thing to do to Christine."
"What are you talking about?"
"She liked you, idiot."
He shook his head, putting antipasto on two plates. I was sitting on the counter watching him, the bottle of wine between my legs, trying to work the opener.
"What?"
"You're crazy." He smiled at me, his eyes firing, the laugh lines deepening.
"C'mon, Detective, did you see how upset she was? She is totally pissed off, my friend."
"Whatever."
"And Jeff. I hope he's not like a good friend or something."
"He's not."
"Good."
"Why do you care?"
"I don't, that was just way harsh is all."
"What was?"
"That for whatever reason, Jeff thought you wanted to meet his sister. What did you say to him?"
"I have no idea."
"When did you set this dinner date up?"
"Again, no clue."
"And do you regularly eat veal?" I asked, the disgust clear in my voice.
"No, never."
"Huh, so Jeff's over here and—"
"Talking about her, I guess."
"And you said what? Yeah, cool, bring her on by?"
He chuckled deeply. "Seriously, I couldn't recount our conversation if my life depended on it."
"Oh?"
He smiled at me wickedly. "You're jealous and I'm diggin'
it."
"I am not jealous."
"Oh no?"
"No."
"I see." He continued to smile as he took the bottle from me and easily pulled out the cork. He stepped between my legs. "So you weren't completely bent that she was here?"
"I thought you didn't realize she liked you."
"I didn't, but you did, and so I'm thinking you were rattled."
"As if."
He put his hands down on either side of me and looked at me hard. "Really?"
I was lost in his smoky blue eyes and so I sighed deeply and came clean. "Of course I was jealous, you moron. Why wouldn't I be?"
"No need," he assured me, leaning in.
Food forgotten, wine forgotten, too busy kissing him, his hands on my thighs as he yanked me forward on the counter and into his arms.
"Wrap your legs around me," he said, his voice like full of gravel, deep and low.
I did as I was asked and he carried me to the bedroom, an arm wrapped around my waist, his hand caressing my ass. He nuzzled my throat as I stretched it out for him.
"I love your ass," he whispered against my ear.
"It's all yours," I promised him.
And when I heard his breath catch I had to smile. It seemed that maybe Detective Kage liked having me around as much as I liked being around. It was a small miracle.
* * * *
It was late when I woke up in his bed. I had both my arms wrapped around him and a leg over his hip. I was pressed tight against his chest.
"Sorry," I said softly, shifting away from him. I knew it had to be hard for him to sleep with me like that. "I didn't mean to—"
"Stop." He put an arm around my back, holding me against him.
"What were you doing?" I asked drowsily, realizing he hadn't been asleep.
"Watching you sleep."
"That's weird. Close your eyes."
"I'm just having trouble wrapping my mind around this."
"What?" I was groggy, not totally awake yet.
"You being here in my bed."
"Do you want me out of it? Should I go sleep in the guest room?"
"No. That's not what I mean."
"What do you mean then?"
"Even if I explain it, you won't understand."
"Why?"
"It just won't make sense to you is all."
"Because?"
"Because you've always been gay."
I moved away from him, looking at his profile in the dark.
"You're the first and only man I have ever been in bed with."
"I know."
"It's something, lemme tell you."
I let out a long breath. "Are you sure this is what you want?"
"Stupid question. It's all I want."
"How come?"
"'Cause being in bed with you, it's different."
"How different?"
"Like I always figured it was supposed to feel," he said, staring into my eyes.
I felt the tremor run through me and curl my toes.
"I didn't know it would be like this."
I rolled over and buried my face in the pillow.
"What're you doing?"
"I have a confession." I smiled, my voice muffled.
"Oh yeah, what's that?" he asked, yanking the pillow away so he could hear me.
"I left the apartment today."
"You what?"
"I left," I said, turning my face to look at him, smiling lazily. "With your mother."
"What?" He looked confused.
I just stared at him until he got it.
"Oh shit," he groaned suddenly, hands in his hair, lying back on his pillow. "It's Friday, I forgot all about... oh fuck me," he half-yelled before he reached out and pulled me over on top of him. His hands went to my face, his fingers smoothing over my eyebrows, pushing the hair out of my eyes. "I'm so sorry, J, did she give you the third degree and tell you—"
"She was an angel," I told him, sliding my hand across his chest, just wanting to touch him. "She made me breakfast and we talked for like hours and then she took me for pie."
He reached out and turned on the light on the nightstand.
"What?"
"I wanna see your face."
I smiled down at him. "Are you okay?"
"She fed you?"
"Yeah."
"My mother fed you?"
"Yes."
"And she took you for pie?"
"Yeah," I nodded. "And you know what, if Regina Rappaport was my mother, I'd have T-shirts made."
"You knew who my mother was?"
"Yeah, of course. Everybody knows."
"You'd be surprised who doesn't know."
"She's so beautiful," I told him.
"You're beautiful," he assured me, fingers lightly tracing my black eye. "Even beat up, I know women that aren't as pretty as you."
"I don't think—"
He chuckled and I had to smile in spite of myself. "I know you don't, baby."
I shoved his hands away and he laughed as I tried to smother him with my pillow.
"We had a good time," I told him as I scooted away from him to the cold part of the bed. "She invited me for Sunday dinner."
"Did she?"
"Yessir."
"You with my entire family. I do
n't fuckin' think so."
"Why?"
"Well, because I don't feel like explaining you being gay to everybody right now."
"And why would you? I didn't tell her. I told her you had to take care of me. That's all you gotta say."
"That simple."
"Sure."
"Come here," he said softly, reaching for me, tucking me back against his side, his hand moving to the small of my back. "Don't move unless I tell you."
Sam liked being the one in charge; he was a very demanding lover and being with him was heaven for me because of it.
"Look at me."
I lifted my chin and he leaned and kissed me. It was slow, sensual, and I felt the heat roll through me.
"You can't get enough of me," he said, arrogantly pleased.
I didn't need to answer.
"What're you thinking?"
"I'm thinking I'm lucky," I answered, shifting, rising over him.
"Yeah, you are lucky. You oh... oh. Goddamn."
Head back, body rigid, hands weaved through my hair as he called my name; I smiled before I took him in my mouth again. The look in his eyes when our eyes met, full of me, full of trust and surrender, made my heart hurt.
Chapter Eleven
I was lying on the couch the following evening answering Dane's e-mails and building his schedule for the following week when Sam came out and sat on the couch behind me.
"J?"
I looked over my shoulder at him. "You all right? You got all quiet after the Farmer's Market this afternoon." It had been weird. He was fine in the car on the way over, but while we were there he had slowly withdrawn until he finally went silent. I had racked my brain thinking of what I could have done. "Did I do something?"
"No, sorry."
"You don't hafta be sorry. Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah, I just have to meet my buddies out and there's nothing I can do about it. We go every weekend."
"That's fine, I can entertain myself." I yawned, going back to my Excel spreadsheet. "Besides, I got a ton of shit to do."
"But I don't want you out at some—"
"No," I cut him off. "I'll call a few friends and catch a movie or something if I get done." I leaned back between his legs and kissed the inside of his thigh. "I'll be good."
"Okay," he said, getting up. "Thanks."
"No problem." I yawned again, realizing that I had booked two appointments for the same day. "Crap."
It had been a cold, wet, frigid day and the night was no different. As I sat there on the thick rug with my hot cup of tea, the roaring fire, in a really old pair of jeans, socks, and T-shirt, I was feeling very cozy. I was ordering Chinese when he walked back into the room.
"What's going on? I thought you were going out?"
I shook my head as I hung up the phone. "Nah. I'm gonna have hot and sour soup and Mu Shu pork instead. I don't feel like goin' out at all."
"You don't?"
I looked up at him. "No. Hey, you look nice."
"Oh yeah?"
The faded Levi 501s were hugging his legs like a second skin; the thick turtleneck was bulky but still gave you the idea that the chest and shoulders were massive underneath. He pulled on his black leather jacket and adjusted it as he stared at me.
"Yeah. You look great."
"Okay... so, you have a nice night, J. Don't wait up."
"Nope." I smiled at him before returning my attention to my laptop. "See ya later."
I heard the door close and I got up to lock it as I went to get a refill on my tea.
Dane's schedule took forever, and by the time my food came I still wasn't even halfway through it. The e-mail he had sent me the day before also said he wanted me to work up the anticipated revenue for the coming quarter. I could do it but it always took me a little longer to do the formulas.
* * * *
The bump woke me and I jerked to the left, hitting the floor so hard that I knocked the wind out of myself. I had rolled off the couch and ended up more under it than beside it. The TV was off, the room silent, bathed in blue shadows and moonlight. The fire had died without attention and it was really cold. There was a scrape and the jingle of keys and the door opened. I leaned sideways and saw the couple in silhouette from the hall light for a moment before the door was closed with a rattle of unhooked chain. Wrapped in each other's arms, kissing ferociously, neither of them taking a breath, together looking like the picture of raging passion.
There were grunts, moans, and whimpers and then her coat hit the floor, followed by the high heel that came to rest inches from where I was hiding.
"I missed you."
The sultry-voiced confession was low and husky and I saw them again for a moment, shadows moving in the soft glow of the streetlight, man and woman tangled up in heat. They were pulling and yanking at each other, spilling into the darkness before he suddenly threw her over his shoulder like firemen do and carried her off toward his bedroom, the giggling and squealing echoing down the short hallway.
I rolled out from where I was, stood up, and waited.
Waited to see if I was wrong. Waited to wake up. Waited for something to tell me that this was not reality and I was only dreaming. Nothing happened except the slamming of the bedroom door. When I moved I realized that, unlike my place, his floorboards did not creak. So I was able to walk in my socks on his hardwood floors and stand outside his door without making a sound. Frozen there, feeling like a stalker, I listened outside his bedroom. I heard the moaning and stood there, frozen, torn between throwing open the door and exposing his lie, cracking it just a sliver to see, to make sure and confirm what I knew anyway, or just walking away. I had to know for sure; at the same time my flight response was screaming in my head. Stupid, but I had to see, to make sure, to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Sam Kage was screwing some woman in the same bed I had been in the night before. I shivered hard and reached for the door handle just as the lights went on.
I turned as Sam closed the front door, tossed his keys on the table beside the loveseat, and dumped his jacket on the couch.
"Hey." He yawned before he smiled at me. "You're home."
I stared at him, at the door, and back at him. "I never left."
"Yeah, I know you said that but... c'mere."
I was rooted to the spot. I had to get my brain around him not being in the bedroom.
He scowled at me. "What's wrong with you?"
I pointed at the bedroom door. "There are two people screwing in your bed." Which wasn't as eloquent an explanation as it could have been but it did make my point.
"What?"
I nodded. "Yeah. I thought it was you."
"What're you talking about?"
"I thought you brought some woman home and took her to bed."
The look was dark, half scowl/half anger. "You had my word on that."
"I don't know you. What's your word worth to me?"
"My word is good. If I say it, I mean it."
I shrugged. "Okay. I didn't know, now I do."
"If you don't believe me or what I say, maybe you should go."
"Maybe I should."
We stared at each other a long time before he suddenly barked at me. "I'm not even in there and I'm in fuckin'
trouble. How is that fuckin' fair?" He had become exasperated in minutes. It was funny.
"I dunno but could ya stop swearing, please?"
He growled at me as he crossed the room, stopping close enough that I had to step back and tilt my head up to meet his gaze. He was so much taller than me, the top of my head coming only to his shoulder.
"Am I staying or am I going?" I asked him softly, trembling suddenly.
"This isn't working," he muttered, sounding miserable.
"What? Me?" I asked, staring up into his eyes. "Do you want me to go?"
"No, me. I gotta go."
That made no sense at all. "What are you talking about?
Do you even know?"
His eyes were locked on mine. "Y
ou live here, J. You're comfortable here in my place, in your skin... I'm the one having a goddamn mental breakdown."
I smiled suddenly and leaned into him, wrapping my arms around his waist, squeezing tight. "It's good you're home. I missed you." My voice was husky and cracked on the last.
"And I'm so glad you're not in bed with some woman."
He stroked my hair and I heard the deep sigh as he tilted my head back so he could see my eyes. "I didn't wanna go. I wanted to sit on the couch and watch you do your computer shit."
"Then you should've stayed home with me," I said, wetting my lips, drawing his attention there. "'Cause I missed you."
Slowly he bent forward... and we both heard the giggle from the other side of the door. "What the hell?" he said before he grabbed the handle and threw open the door. There was a quick scream from the darkness as he flipped on the lights. "Oh fuck me," he groaned loudly.
I peeked around the corner and there was a man that actually looked nothing like Detective Kage sitting in bed beside a woman who kind of did. She was clutching my comforter to her breast. When she saw me, her eyes got even bigger.
"What the fuck is going on?" Sam roared at them.
"Sammy, it's not what ya think," the woman said gently.
"Oh no? Well, I think that my married sister is screwing her husband's best friend in my bed. That's what I fuckin'
think. Tell me if I'm missing something, Jen."
She bit her bottom lip and I went from curious and confused to nurturing and concerned. She looked so sad sitting there with tears in her eyes, trembling, that I slipped into the room, grabbed the Kleenex off the chest of drawers, and walked the box over to her.
Her eyes flicked up to mine. "Thank you."
I smiled gently and she shivered hard.
"Who're you?"
"I'm Jory," I said, and when she reached for my hand I gave it to her, squeezing back. "I'll make you some tea."
"No tea!" Sam yelled again. "Just get the fuck out of my bed! Get outta my house!"
I patted her hand when she tried to pull it away. "It's okay," I soothed her. "He's just loud. You must know that by now."
"I don't know what to—"
"It's okay," I said, squeezing her hand again gently.
"J," Sam began, the warning there in his voice. "Don't start with me or—"
I gave him a look.
"You and your goddamn tea!" he snapped at me. "You know you—"