by Beau Brown
He stiffened and came hard, groaning and thrusting like a wild beast. Gradually, his bucking hips slowed, but his fingers dug into my flesh still. He rested on me, breathing hard. “Holy fuck, I needed that. I was so tense.”
“Anytime.” I snorted a laugh. “And I’m not kidding either.”
He pulled out slowly and crawled to lie down next to me. I collapsed, facing him. I studied him as he lay there, with his chest moving up and down as he worked to catch his breath. When he turned his head and caught me watching him, I looked away quickly.
Since he’d moved straight to the sex the minute he got in the door, a part of me wasn’t sure if he’d really even want to stay for pizza. Maybe this had really only been about the fucking. I didn’t want him to feel pressured to hang out with me if he’d just needed to release some sexual tension.
“Pizza is good even left over.” I didn’t look at him as I spoke.
“Yep.” He rubbed his eyes.
I cleared my throat. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. I mean, the pizza will get eaten either way. I’m pretty lazy during the week and don’t always have the energy to cook.”
He made a little grunt, and when I looked at him he was squinting at me. “You want me to go?” He sounded kind of insulted.
“I’m not saying that.” I grimaced.
“Was this just a booty call or something?” His expression was still displeased.
“Not for me.”
“Well, I planned on eating with you. I suggested grabbing a pizza for a reason.” He frowned. “It’s not my fault you looked so sexy when I walked in the door.”
I was definitely pleased that he still wanted to hang out, and a little happy jolt went through me. “I just wasn’t sure. I know this is nothing more than sex so…”
Confusion shifted over his features. “Well… I mean… I don’t want anything serious. But I actually like you. I enjoy your company. No reason we can’t be friends with benefits, right? And friends hang out.”
“Oh.” I laughed. “Okay.” It was actually sort of nice to have the framework of our relationship laid out. It helped avoid misunderstandings. “Well, then, I guess I’ll get some pants on so I can answer the door when the delivery guy arrives.”
“Do you mind if I take a quick shower?” He rolled off the bed.
“Not at all.” I got off the bed also, and pulled on my underwear and jeans. Then I grabbed a pair of sweats and a T-shirt for him from my dresser. I handed them to him. “The towels are in the bathroom. Everything you need should be in there.”
“Awesome.” He grinned and surprised me with a kiss. His eyes were warm, and he sighed. “It’s amazing how much better I feel.”
“I’m glad.” My cheeks felt heated as I moved to the door. “I’ll meet you in the living room when you’re done.”
“Sounds good.” He went into the bathroom and I left the bedroom, feeling amazingly happy.
Chapter Six
Trevor
As I scrubbed off with a sweet-scented pomegranate cleanser of Brock’s, I had to stop myself from grinning. He’d been surprised when the first thing I did was drag him into bed. But it had been impossible not to. I hadn’t been lying when I’d said I’d been thinking about him. Thoughts of him had permeated my weekend, leaving me hungry to see him.
I dried off and dressed, and then I went out to where Brock was. He was on the sofa with the pizza on the coffee table with plates and napkins. “What kind of movie would you like?” He asked holding the remote, arching one brow.
“Don’t judge me, but I’d rather avoid any cop movies if you don’t mind.” I sat next to him on the couch and opened the pizza box. The fragrant scent of oregano, tomato, and garlic filled my nostrils, and I sighed. “This is the best night ever.”
He laughed. “It is pretty awesome. Too bad it’s Monday.”
I slumped and fell back against the couch. “Why did you have to remind me?”
“We can get through the week.” He helped himself to a slice. “Pretty soon it will be Friday and we’ll be happy again.”
“I guess.” I sat up and piled three pieces of pizza on my plate with a guilty glance toward Brock. “Am I being a pig?”
“Don’t worry about it. You’re a growing boy.”
I grinned and leaned back, balancing my plate on my stomach.
He squinted at the TV, scrolling through the menus. “Are you in the mood for a comedy?”
“Sure.”
“Are you a slapstick comedy guy?”
I winced. “Not really.”
He sighed. “Thank, god.”
Laughing, I took a bite of pizza. I watched him as I chewed, studying the curve of his neck and set of his jaw. I’d always thought he was attractive, even when we were younger, but I’d kind of felt like he would just dismiss me as a dumb jock type, so I’d never pushed for more interaction. I smiled inwardly, glad I’d overcome those insecurities. I really liked being around the guy. Some omegas had a way about them that soothed alphas. It seemed like Brock affected me that way. I felt happy in his presence. It was kind of odd, but I didn’t want to over think it. For now I enjoyed him, and that was good enough.
“Have you seen The Hitman’s Bodyguard?” he asked, giving me a curious glance.
“Nope.”
“What do you think? Too close to a cop movie?”
I snorted. “Cops and hitmen aren’t really related fields.”
“Yeah, I just mean the whole macho guy thing. Is that cool?”
“Sure.” I nodded.
He pressed a few buttons, and the movie started. He settled back on the couch, also using his stomach as a table. We sat in silence as we ate and watched the film, laughing at some funny parts of the movie. I was glad he wasn’t one of those people who talked through a movie. That drove me nuts. And we seemed to find the same lines amusing, which was a relief. There was nothing worse than watching a movie with someone who found everything hysterical when the best you could do was fake a laugh for them now and then.
Toward the end of the movie, I found myself distracted by watching Brock out of the corner of my eye. The memory of fucking him made my stomach clench. I didn’t want to hit on the guy again so soon. I wasn’t even sure why I seemed to find him so irresistible. I mean, yeah, he was sexy, but we’d just had sex. I should have been good for a few days. But I had to admit my cock warmed at the idea of taking him again.
Once the movie was over he cleared away the plates and pizza. I stood, stretching and preparing to leave. It was after midnight and I didn’t want to overstay my welcome. Besides, we both had to work tomorrow. I went into his room and changed back into my uniform. Then I met him in the kitchen. He was at the sink rinsing a plate and staring out the window.
“I’m gonna take off,” I said.
He jumped and set the plate down with an embarrassed laugh. “You startled me.”
“Did you forget I was here?” I moved closer.
He faced me, his arms crossed. “Hardly.”
I cleared my throat. “This was fun.”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “It was.” He avoided my gaze, instead staring at the tile floor.
“Maybe we can get together one day next weekend.” Since when did I try and plan my weekend in advance? What the hell was going on with me?
A line appeared between his brows. “Oh, yeah. Maybe.”
I frowned. “Do you have plans already?” That was definitely none of my business. What made me think that was okay to ask? “Never mind.” I gave a gruff laugh and headed toward the door.
He followed. “I have a thing on Saturday. It’s like a work thing.”
It pleased me he wanted me to know that. “Maybe we could do something Sunday?” I hesitated with my hand on the knob.
“Well, I do have to go to church most of the day.”
“Seriously?”
He grinned. “Nah. Me and god don’t really get along. I don’t appreciate someone I’ve never met telling me how to liv
e my life.”
“See, now I’d have pegged you for a squeaky clean choir boy type.”
He squinted at me. “Right. The kind that fucks other dudes. Cuz that’s totally cool with the church crowd.”
I chuckled. “Yeah, forget what I said.”
“I’ll text you during the week and we can decide. Or you can text me. Either way.”
“Sounds good.” I opened the door and squelched the urge to kiss him goodbye. I didn’t want to act like he was my boyfriend and give him the wrong idea. I was being stupid enough already trying to plan a date with him next weekend.
“Stay safe,” he said softly. “Watch out for the bad guys.”
“Will do.” I headed toward my car. As I slipped behind the wheel, I found it endearing Brock didn’t close the door. Instead, he stood there and watched me pull away, giving a cheerful wave.
By the time I got home I was pretty exhausted. It had been a long day, and I was bushed. I stripped and fell in bed, groaning as the soft blankets enveloped me. I thought about Brock and our evening together, a little smile on my lips, and eventually I drifted off to sleep.
****
“A little to the left.” My mother rubbed her chin. “Now more toward the right.”
I balanced the oil painting against the wall, hoping she’d give her approval soon. My shoulders were getting tired, and I was sick of hanging pictures. She’d had me at it for the last two hours. “What was wrong with the old art you guys had up?”
She sighed. “Darling, you have to keep it fresh.”
“My elderly mother is schooling me on keeping things fresh?” I laughed. “Now I’ve heard everything.”
“Hush.”
I laughed.
“Now down a few inches…. Perfect!” She clapped her hands. “That looks just right.”
I made a mark on the wall with the pencil I had tucked behind my ear, and then I set the framed painting down with a grunt. I measured, hammered and used a level until I was sure the painting would hang straight, then I lifted the bulky frame and looped the wire on the back carefully over the nails. Stepping back to stand beside my mom, I eyed my work.
“What do you think?” I asked, frowning.
She moved forward and nudged the bottom left-hand side of the frame. “That’s better.” She put her hands on her hips and came back to me. “I appreciate you giving up your Saturday to help me out, honey.”
“Well, I sure as hell don’t want you or dad trying to do this. You’ll kill yourselves.”
“You’re such a worry wart.”
“If you say so.”
“Lemonade?” She lifted one brow, giving me a searching look. “Or do you have a hot date?”
“Not tonight.”
“Really?” Her voice went up with surprise. “Since when are you at a loose end? Don’t you usually go down to The Pink Hat on Saturday nights?”
I grinned. “The Pink Cap.”
“Whatever.” She led the way to the kitchen and, as I sat at the table, she pulled a frosty pitcher from the fridge. She set it in front of me and then grabbed two glasses from the cupboard. “My point is that it’s unusual for you to not have anywhere to go tonight.”
She was right. Usually I’d be in a hurry to get home to shower so I could go out. But I didn’t feel compelled to do that tonight. I thought about seeing Brock tomorrow and my stomach fluttered with excitement. He’d texted me Thursday, and we’d arranged to go mountain bike riding tomorrow morning. That was one reason I didn’t feel the need to go out tonight. I wanted to be fresh for my ride with him.
I sipped my drink, enjoying the tart, cold beverage. I set my glass down and exhaled, leaning back in my chair. “I’ve got plans early tomorrow morning, so I decided to fore-go the bar scene tonight.”
“Ooh. What kind of plans?” Her eyes lit with curiosity.
My face warmed, I wasn’t sure why. “Bike riding with a friend.”
She laughed. “You’re cheeks are pink. How good of a friend is this?”
I scowled. “My cheeks aren’t pink.”
“Yes they are.” She leaned toward me. “So who is this guy?”
She had good instincts. Even as a kid I’d never been able to hide shit from her. “Just a guy.”
“Bull poo.”
“He’s an old school friend. High school.” I kept my gaze from hers, giving the small kitchen my attention instead.
“Who?”
“Brock Pilot.” As I said his name my pulse skittered. God, since when did just the thought of a guy get to me so much?
She pulled her dark brows together. “I’m not sure I remember him.”
I sure as hell do.
“You probably don’t. He was the kid who showed me around school that first day of school. When we first moved here.”
She nodded. “Oh. Yeah, you did mention a boy who was kind to you. I had no idea you’d kept in touch with him.”
“I didn’t.” I gave a gruff laugh. “I actually pulled him over the other day for a fix-it type thing and then we ran into each other at The Pink Cap again.”
“Huh.” Her gaze was direct. “You like him?”
“He’s a good guy.”
“You seem like you like-like him.” She smiled slyly.
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t start planning my wedding just yet.”
Giving me a patient glance, she said, “I can’t remember the last time you did anything with another boy that didn’t involve drinking.”
“Boy?”
“Sorry. I meant macho man.”
“Who says we won’t drink?”
“You know what I mean. I’m talking about going to a bar and getting wasted. That seemed to be your MO the last year.”
“Careful, mom, or I’ll suspect you’re judging me.”
“Not at all. But I would like you to find a nice omega and settle down with lots of babies before I die. Is that too much to ask?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not looking to settle down. I like playing the field.”
“I don’t get your generation. Sleeping with people you barely know sounds horrible.”
“Not to me.” I felt obligated to defend my past behavior, even as I kind of had to admit I was a little tired of the bar scene and hooking up with guys I never wanted to see again.
“What’s this Brock person like these days?”
I shrugged. “He’s still nice.”
“You should bring him by to say hi.”
I widened my eyes in horror. “That is most definitely not happening.”
“Why? I want to meet the man who you like enough to give up a day of your weekend for.”
“You’re making way too much of this. We hit it off and we both like bike riding. It’s not anything serious. In fact, I’ve made it clear to him that I’m not interested in that.”
She scowled. “Great. I’m going to die grandchild-less.”
“You look healthy. There’s still time.”
Standing, she refilled my glass. “You want to stay for dinner?”
“Of course.”
She kissed the top of my head, her gaze soft. “I’m sorry. Ignore me. You take your time, honey, and find the right omega for you.”
Her obvious concern and sincerity caused a lump to form in my throat. I smiled weakly. “Thanks, mom.”
“You betcha.” She winked. “I planned on making lasagna for dinner. How’s that sound?”
“It sounds awesome.”
She patted my shoulder. “Good.”
As she moved away to start dinner, my thoughts unwillingly drifted back to Brock. He seemed to be on my mind a lot lately. Memories of him popped up randomly during the day or night, forcing me to think about him more than I’d have liked. I assumed it was because I respected him. Yes, I loved fucking him, but there was a lot more to Brock than just good looks. He was funny and intelligent. He really cared about people. He’d chosen a career where he could help others. He hadn’t g
iven in to self-pity and made excuses about what a rough life he’d had growing up. Nope. He’d buckled down and decided to help others less fortunate.
I had to admire the hell out of that. And while I wouldn’t show it to my mom, I could hardly wait for tomorrow, where I’d get to spend some more time with Brock.
Chapter Seven
Brock
I drove and Trevor played navigator. I took pity on the fact that the poor guy cruised around all day long in his police car, while I sat behind a desk. I actually enjoyed driving, so I didn’t mind at all.
It was a beautiful day with blue skies and no wind. We’d chosen to ride at Big Bend State park. They had lots of intermediate trails and that was about our skill level. I’d ridden there before a few years ago and the climbs were gradual and completely doable, even if you weren’t in tip-top shape.
I felt cheerful with the wind whipping my hair from the open window as we headed down the highway. It had been a long time since I’d done anything like this with a friend or lover. It made me feel almost normal, like I wasn’t just a nerd with no social life.
“God that air is sweet.” Trevor inhaled and exhaled. “I forget sometimes that there’s more to this state than just the town I live in.”
“Don’t let Mayor Smith hear you say that.”
He smiled, floating his hand on an air current outside his window. “I feel like a kid playing hooky.”
“Do you usually go to church on Sunday?”
“Nah. I just mean because I’m doing something fun instead of chores.”
“Oh, yeah. I get that. I do feel a little wild and free. I should be home clearing out my garage, but instead I’m driving off to go have fun.”
He smiled at me, dimples deep in his cheeks. “It’s a nice change.”
I slowed the car and turned onto a dirt road that would take us toward the park. My car bumped over the uneven road, scraping the undercarriage now and then.
“Maybe we should have taken my truck.” He grimaced at the sound of grease-wood bushes dragging beneath the vehicle.