by L. A. Witt
He looked up at me. “How do you know?”
“I came in when I got here. Just to say hi. But you were out cold. Or, um, not exactly cold . . .”
He laughed, but it turned into a moan, and not the kind I had hoped to hear when I came to visit.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Yeah.” He sighed. “Everything fucking hurts.”
“The flu’s a bitch.” I let him lean on me for a moment, and despite the fact that he was sick and miserable, I let myself enjoy that moment. I’d missed him lately. I always did. It felt good to be in the same room with him, though I definitely would have preferred it if he’d been well.
He craned his neck to look past me. “So what’s all this?”
I glanced back at the pots and pans. It wasn’t a mess, per se—I’d very carefully kept everything as clean as I could—but there had obviously been some activity in here. “Oh, um.” I faced him again. “My mom makes a soup that’ll clear your sinuses right up.”
His lip curled a bit. “Ugh. Food.”
“Not much. You’re supposed to starve a fever, remember?” I gestured at the stove. “It’s more of a broth seasoned with a bunch of shit.”
“It’s not one of those foofy detoxes, is it?”
I laughed, smoothing his disheveled and slightly damp hair. “There’s nothing foofy about a cayenne pepper surprise attack to startle a virus into compliance.”
Anthony chuckled with some more feeling this time. “You had me at ‘cayenne pepper.’”
“Figured as much.”
He smiled, then slid onto one of the barstools by the kitchen island while I went around to keep after the food.
“I thought you said it’s just broth.” He nodded toward the chicken and vegetables. “What’s all that?”
“I said the soup is just broth. All that’s for me.”
“Oh right.” He sighed, pressing his elbows onto the counter and rubbing his temples. “God, I am so sorry. And I feel like a total ass for not texting you. I even set an alarm, but I must’ve reset it without—”
“Relax. It’s fine.” I smiled over the island as I stirred the broth, the fumes from which were making my eyes water. “Jay got me squared away, and we both figured it was a good idea to let you sleep as long as you needed to.”
“I appreciate it. And this.” Another nod toward the food. “It’s hard enough to get a local boyfriend to make me chicken soup when I’m sick. But a long-distance one . . .” He smiled again, and it was hard to tell with his feverish flush, but I thought he might’ve blushed. “I mean, okay, you were already on your way, but let’s not split hairs.”
I chuckled. “Honestly? If I’d known you were this sick? I probably would’ve found a way to get here anyway.”
“Noah.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s the flu. I’ll be fine.” But there was something in his eyes that made my heart flutter. Like he knew what I meant.
If you need me, I’m here. End of story.
When I finished cooking, we took our food into the dining room. How long had it been since I’d dated a man civilized enough to own a dining room table and actually use it? Because I sure as hell didn’t have or use one.
He blew on a spoonful of soup, then cautiously ate some. In seconds, his eyes widened, and as soon as he’d swallowed it, he coughed. “Oh my God. You weren’t kidding.”
“Did you think I was?” I sliced off a piece of chicken before laying my knife on the side of the plate. “If my mother uses it, I promise it’s no joke.”
“Well, she did raise you. I can only imagine the things she had to keep around.”
“Hey!”
“What?” He brought another steaming spoonful to his lips. “Don’t tell me you were a saintly golden child.”
“Uh, no. I was a hellion.”
“You don’t say.”
I playfully toed him under the table, and his customary wicked grin broke through the hold his fever had on him.
“Actually,” I said, “it wasn’t just me. I have three brothers, and they were as bad as or worse than me.”
Anthony’s eyebrow arched. “Lord, that poor woman. I hope you and your brothers spoil the crap out of her on Mother’s Day.”
“Every year. Without fail.”
“Good.” He gave a subtle nod. “Sounds like she deserves it. And tell her this soup is amazing.”
“I have. Many times.” I put a hand on his arm and squeezed gently. “Glad you’re feeling better. You certainly look better.”
“Well, let’s hope the worst is over.” His brow creased. “I’m probably not going to be great company for the weekend, though.”
“It’s fine. Honestly, I’m still glad to see you.”
“Even if you’re seeing my, uh, not-so-fabulous side?”
I patted his arm, then took it back so I could pick up my knife and cut off some more chicken. “You’ve seen me when I get out of bed in the morning. I’m pretty sure I can cope with you sniffling.”
Anthony laughed again, and I sensed some genuine relief.
“Do you really think it would bother me?” I asked. “Seeing you like this?”
Eyes down, he muttered, “I can’t imagine it’s much of a turn-on.”
“Which kind of implies I’m not just in it for the sex, doesn’t it?”
He hesitated, then looked in my eyes. “I guess it kind of does.”
I nodded as if to say, Ya think?
The smile came back to life. “For the record, I’m not either. Just in it for the sex, I mean.”
“I know.” I squeezed his knee under the table.
Our eyes locked for a moment. I could’ve sworn we’d only been long-distance booty calls, even though we’d both agreed to be open to more if it happened. The part I wasn’t sure about was when more had happened while we weren’t looking. One day, he’d been a sexy booty call in town for a week. The next, we’d been flying back and forth for those addictive hookups. And tonight, when I could’ve sworn I’d had a hookup on the brain . . . this.
“Well.” He cleared his throat, which might have been as much to genuinely clear it as it was to break the silence. “Also for the record—when I’m back to a hundred percent, and I come see you?” He winked. “I will so make this up to you.”
I shivered.
Drenched in sweat, breathing like we’d just sprinted an entire marathon, we collapsed on our backs on Noah’s rumpled sheets.
“You are . . .” Noah paused for a few gulps of air. “You are obviously feeling better than the last time I saw you.”
“Told you I’d make it up to you, didn’t I?”
“Now that you mention it, yes. You did.” He turned on his side, grinning at me. “In case it wasn’t clear, you’ve more than made up for it.”
I laughed, wiping my brow. “Oh good. Then I’m off the hook for sex for the rest of the weekend.”
“Hey, hey.” He playfully groped my thigh. “Let’s not go too crazy.”
We both chuckled, and lay there for a moment as we caught our breath.
Once the room had stopped spinning and I wasn’t panting anymore, I mirrored him. “You know, I’m still bummed out that I was sick while you were in town.” I trailed my fingers along the edge of his high-and-tight, where the longer hair ended and the close shave began. “But I’m really glad you were in town when I was sick. If that makes sense.”
“I’m just glad I got to spend time with you.”
“Yeah. Pathetic, whining, sick me.”
He rolled his eyes. “Okay, first, you weren’t nearly as pathetic as you might think.” He drew me closer and pressed the softest kiss to my forehead. “But even if you had been, believe it or not, I would rather be with pathetic, whining, sick you than not be with you at all.”
I swear to God, my heart melted right then and there. “That’s . . . got to be one of the most romantic things anyone has ever said to me.”
He smiled, caressing my cheek. I thought he might say something else, either to r
e-macho himself or make me laugh or, hell, something mushier, but he just pressed his lips to mine. He stayed there, and I wanted him to, so I held him closer. Neither of us made any effort to spin the other up and turn this into more. We’d already gone two rounds in rapid succession, so we’d need some time before anything happened anyway, but even if that weren’t true, that wasn’t what this kiss was about.
After a while, we pulled apart again, only enough to meet each other’s eyes, and we both smiled. He’d done funny things to my pulse from the very first night we’d met, but those funny things were different now. After the last time he’d come to Denver, things had changed, and not in a bad way.
A lot of that weekend was a haze of coughing, fevers, and generally feeling like shit, but Noah’s presence had been a godsend. Not only had he made that amazing soup—I so needed to send his mom a thank-you note—but he’d just . . . been there. He’d let me fall asleep against him on the couch like five times. And then when the fever had come back, and I’d been shivering like mad, he’d slept next to me instead of in the living room. Let me huddle up next to him and everything. God knew how much sweat he’d had to wring out of his clothes after my fever had broken, and it must’ve been fucking miserable for him, but he’d never bitched once. He’d even offered to take a few days leave and reschedule his flight so he could stay with me longer.
“Thanks again,” I whispered. “For last time.”
“Don’t mention it.” He brushed his lips across mine. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
“Me too. Ugh.”
He chuckled, watching his hand trail up and down my side. “Well, now that you’re here and back on your feet, what do you want to do for the weekend?”
A whole bunch of cheesy things sprang to the tip of my tongue. Things like Anything, as long as I’m with you and I’m already doing it. But I managed to turn off my inner romantic-comedy dialogue generator, and settled on, “I definitely think I owe you dinner.”
“You don’t owe me a damn thing, but I do like the idea of going and getting something to eat.”
“Then let’s get cleaned up and go.” I tapped the middle of his chest. “I’m buying, though. No discussion.”
Noah held my gaze like there was going to be a discussion, but then he shrugged and kissed the tip of my nose. “Fine by me. Let’s go grab a shower.”
Our back and forth trips had become a routine. It was tricky, but considering how far apart we were, Noah and I managed to see each other pretty frequently. We were fortunate that neither of us had a lot of expenses, and tickets between Denver and Portland were reasonable. I could leave work an hour or two early and be at his place that evening, then back in Denver by Sunday night. He usually came in on Friday and I’d drop him at the airport on my way to work on Monday morning.
In between, there was plenty of sexting and filthy webcam chats. I didn’t know if it was the same for him, but that kept me from losing my mind while I counted down the days until one of us hopped on a plane again.
It wasn’t all dirty, either. Sometimes we’d text back and forth about our days. He was probably the only human being on the planet besides my sister who I was willing to talk to on the phone, never mind for an hour or more at a time.
I hadn’t even realized how much time had passed, until the summer was coming to a close. The days were getting shorter. The evenings were getting cooler.
And I still couldn’t get enough of Noah.
Seemingly overnight, he’d become a fixture in my world. Something that somehow managed to both keep me sane and drive me insane. Anchor Point had become as familiar as Denver, his apartment as familiar as my place, and I felt equally at home in either place. More so if Noah was with me. It just worked.
Tonight, given that it was nearly October, the evening was chilly. Cool enough for light jackets, but not cold enough to keep us from taking a walk down one of the pretty—and this time of year, deserted—beaches in Anchor Point. This, like our trips back and forth to see each other, had become a thing. A routine. Whenever I came to his side, we’d have dinner in town on Saturday night, and if the weather wasn’t complete shit, we’d take a stroll down the beach.
At first, it had been sunny most of the time. Even if we ate kind of late, the sun would still be up, and we might catch the beautiful Pacific sunset if we really took our time. As summer had worn down, the sunsets were getting earlier, but we missed more of them than we had in the beginning. We’d be walking and talking, and suddenly it would be getting dark fast, and we’d realize the sun had already dropped below the horizon.
Tonight, we’d eaten at a reasonable hour, but it was already getting dark. Yay, winter. My fucking favorite.
But, hey, I was on a beach with Noah. I really couldn’t complain.
As we walked, Noah was quiet. That wasn’t unusual. We could banter and shoot the breeze for hours on end, but comfortable silence happened sometimes too. He just seemed tense this time.
Halfway down the beach, with night falling all around us and the glow of the base looking farther away than it actually was, I took a breath to ask if he was all right.
Then Noah slipped his hand into mine.
The hairs on my forearm stood up, and I looked at him. He smiled. So did I.
I’d always envied straight couples who held hands in public without thinking twice about it. For us, every public display of affection was subversive. Quite possibly dangerous depending on where we were. For the last few weeks, I’d had to consciously restrain myself from taking his hand because, even though I’d known it was risky, it was tempting. I wanted to touch him. I wanted people to see me touching him. I wanted people to look at us and know that we were a couple.
Tonight, he’d done it. Maybe he’d been quiet because he’d been trying to work up the nerve, because now that he had, he relaxed. I did too.
And the simple act of lacing our fingers together as we walked down the beach was enough to take my breath away.
We halted after a while. Who’d stopped first, I had no idea. Maybe it had just happened. Whatever the case, we were standing there in the sand, hands still laced together, and there was enough light from the town to illuminate his face as he looked in my eyes.
“I’m starting to dread Sundays, you know,” he said.
“Yeah.” I touched his cheek. “Me too. I wish there was a way I could stay longer.”
“Same here.”
We both smiled, and he pressed a soft kiss to my forehead.
Out of nowhere, he chuckled.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“Oh come on. Tell me.”
“Well . . .” He gave me a sheepish glance. “I guess I was just thinking—eventually, people we know are going to start asking how we met. So I’m trying to figure out if we should mention that line you used the first night.”
“What line?”
“The one about ‘tell me you bottom and we can get out of—’”
I burst out laughing. “Oh my God. I forgot all about that.”
He grinned as he wrapped his arms around me. “You were a dirty bastard from day one. No wonder things worked out the way they did.”
“You’re one to talk.”
And there we were, standing on a beach in each other’s arms, ignoring the sunset and laughing at that ridiculous line that I’d completely meant in the moment. Maybe it would just be our little secret, but it was pretty funny. It had also worked. I probably didn’t need my parents knowing about it, but the end result had been my clothes on Noah’s floor, and now . . . this.
He tipped up my chin, and as our eyes locked, his humor faded, but he didn’t look away. He smoothed my hair. Slid his palm down to the back of my neck.
Paused there.
Then he drew me in closer, and a jolt of panic made me stiffen. “You don’t mind doing this in public?”
“Mind?” Noah’s fingers tightened slightly on my neck. “I want everyone to know I’m with you.”
He was out of breath when he met my eyes. “Maybe we should get back to my place.”
“Maybe.” I trailed my fingers over the shaved side of his head. “But why hurry?”
He held my gaze. Slowly, a smile appeared, and he pulled me in even tighter as he pressed his lips to mine.
We didn’t have much time. I’d be on my way back to Denver in less than twenty-four hours. But, right here, lazily kissing Noah on the beach with the tide lapping at the sand and the wind tugging at my clothes, it felt like we had all the time in the world.
I touched my forehead to his. “Is it weird to think two weeks is too long to wait to see you again?”
“I thought I was the only one.”
I smiled. “No. You’re not.”
“Maybe when your vacation time resets, we should take some time off together.” He ran his fingers through my hair. “Go someplace other than Denver or Anchor Point, and spend a week or two.”
My heart fluttered. “I . . . would love that.”
“Me too.” He kissed me again. “But in the meantime, I will definitely be coming to Denver as often as I can.”
“Good. Though, uh, it’s getting into winter. Colorado is fucking cold in the winter.”
“So I’ve heard. Guess it’ll be up to you to keep me warm.”
I lifted my chin for another kiss. “Yeah. Guess it will.”
I had no idea who’d end up on top tonight, or if we’d get that far at all. At the moment, I didn’t care. This was perfect. It was all I needed—Noah holding me close in his bed, kissing me like there wasn’t a loudly ticking clock counting down until I’d have to leave tomorrow.
It felt like it’d been hours since we’d come home from the beach, left our sandy shoes by the door, and hurried into his bedroom to leave our clothes on the floor. Ever since then, we’d been just like this—all wrapped up in each other. His cock in my hand. His hand around my cock. Our lips moving together in between both of us trying to breathe as we wound each other up.