Leaning Into Series: The Complete Box Set

by Hayes, Lane

  “No way. Eric gave me one of those knowing looks when we were dancing. It felt like we were at a high school dance, and he was trying to clandestinely ask if I had a crush on you. I don’t want him to think I like you that way. He’s my boss, and you’re one of his best friends. It would be weird.”

  “And hopping into my bed half-naked isn’t weird?” I asked incredulously before gesturing toward the TV. “He’s on the other side of that wall now. How are you going to spin this if he catches you in here, genius?”

  “I’ll be gone in an hour. He’ll never know.” Miles glowered at me.

  I didn’t have the heart to tell him that the too-tight shirt and his mop of auburn hair lessened the impact of ferocity, but it was impossible to keep my skepticism in check. He sounded like a scatterbrained wacko, not like the cool, calm intelligent man who acted as gatekeeper to the president of a well-respected tech firm. Tom’s warning rang true. Miles seemed a little…unhinged.

  “That’s assuming I don’t kick your ass out now and tell him everything in the morning,” I reminded him.

  The blood drained from his face. “Please don’t,” he whispered.

  I studied him intently then glanced at my watch. It was one thirty a.m. I honestly didn’t know what to do next. I’d been up since six that morning. I had a week-long parental visit and the biggest meeting in Kostas Realty’s history to prepare for in a few hours. Kicking Miles out wouldn’t help. I’d spend precious time worrying about him getting back safely when I should be sleeping. What could I say? I was an idiot with a white-knight complex.

  “So how do you propose this works?” I asked, crossing my arms.

  “Well…I could quietly lie here for an hour then call for a ride and be back at the hotel before three.”

  “Hmm. Are you drunk? Did you take anything?”

  “What? Of course not. I haven’t had a drop since we started dancing, and I don’t do drugs. I’m just…”

  “You’re just what?” I prodded.

  “A mess.” Miles hung his head in defeat and sighed.

  He was a mess. I wouldn’t deny it or waste my breath reassuring him that his behavior was anything close to normal. Rational people didn’t do half the shit I’d witnessed or heard about him doing tonight. The weird thing was that he seemed like himself this afternoon.

  “Okay. Lie down, get some rest,” I said as I stood then skirted the bed back to my side. I turned on the lamp and busied myself picking up the debris I’d knocked over earlier. Then I fluffed my pillow and glanced over at my stunned-looking roomie. “What’s wrong now?”

  “Nothing.” Miles shook his head with a smile. It was the slow-growing kind that began with a hesitant upturn of lips and soon took over his face, illuminating him from within. With his mussed hair, ridiculous T-shirt, and humungous grin, he should have looked boyish and silly, but there was something oddly compelling about him I couldn’t figure out. “Thank you. I’ll set my alarm for an hour from now in case I fall asleep and—”

  “No way. If you’re staying, you’re not leaving until six at the earliest. I’m exhausted, and I don’t want to be woken up in an hour. If you have a problem with that, you need to go now.”

  “All right but—”

  “No buts. When I turn off this light, I want you to be quiet and stay on your side of the bed, got it?”

  Miles’s grin widened mischievously. “Yes, Daddy. I’ll be good.”

  Yeah, I had to be some kind of sicko ’cause that throwaway line went straight to my dick so fast I felt dizzy. Not good. There was no way I was lying next to this guy with a boner all night. Think baseball, politics, alligators…just don’t start thinking with your cock.

  I narrowed my eyes menacingly and leveled my forefinger at him like a parent bent on teaching a lesson. “I’m serious.”

  “Got it.” Miles made a zip across his lips signal then flopped backward onto his pillow and curled into a ball, facing me.

  “Good.” I slipped under the covers, lifting the duvet so it didn’t bunch around my knees. I was about to flip the light off but froze when I caught a glimpse of his cherry red undies. “Oh, my God.…What are you wearing?”

  His gaze followed mine south then darted back to me. He gave me a lopsided smile and mouthed, jock strap.

  “Why?” I heard myself ask before shaking my head profusely. “No. Never mind. Just…go to sleep.”

  I turned off the lamp, and burrowed under the duvet, lying flat on my back. I closed my eyes, willing sleep to come quickly.

  It didn’t.

  I’d never been more aware of another man’s presence in my bed. And there’d been plenty of guys in my bed. Not recently and no one serious in years, but I wasn’t a novice here. Then again, I also wasn’t in the habit of sharing a bed with zero intention of having sex with the other occupant either. After ten minutes of alternately staring at the ceiling or squeezing my eyes shut and counting sheep, I finally clued in that the problem was a serious lack of immunity. It didn’t matter if I told myself he was off-limits or a little too nutty. My dick didn’t care. It twitched hopefully in the confines of my briefs, begging me to slip my fingers under the elastic and grab myself. Or better yet, roll over and massage the perfect ass of the man lying two feet away.

  Not happening. I had to be strong.

  I slowly lowered my right hand to cup myself through the cotton barrier. I wrapped my fingers around my length and rubbed my thumb over the tip. Precum leaked from my slit like a sieve. It was always that way for me. The more turned-on I was, the more I looked like I’d pissed my pants. Tonight seemed worse than usual. No doubt, this wet spot played a part in my insomnia. I had to take them off.

  I glanced over at Miles who was resting fitfully. One arm on his chest, the other over his head. He looked peaceful, even sweet. Not like the red-haired hellion who’d charmed me into letting him stay. What was I thinking? He was trouble. A whole mess of trouble.

  But I couldn’t lie here all night, blaming him for the state of my rigid pole. I had to do something about it. Pronto. I hooked my thumbs under the elastic and lifted my hips before lowering my briefs over my ass, inch by inch. I was mindful not to jostle the duvet or make any sudden movements. I breathed a sigh of relief the second I was free and then finally gripped myself.

  Just as someone groaned. Loudly.

  My eyes shot open. I automatically looked at Miles who stirred to life, stretching his arms in the air. I dropped my junk and swiped my damp palm on the sheets before slowly rolling onto my side, lifting my briefs as I moved to cover my ass. Halfway through my methodical roll, I heard it again. Louder and this time accompanied with the telltale rhythmic squeak of a mattress.

  Miles snickered next to me and whispered, “These walls are either super thin or Eric and Zane are super noisy. Grant, are you awake?”

  “Yeah.” I let out an exasperated breath and flopped onto my back again.

  “Well, this is awkward, isn’t it?” he asked, clearly amused.

  “You could say that.”

  The bed shifted as he propped himself up on his elbow, facing me. I pulled at the duvet in an effort to keep my erection covered. This was almost comical. Miles was half-naked, whispering in a sleep-hazed voice that sounded like pure sex, as I lay there with a dick so hard it had its own heartbeat while my friends provided a pornographic soundtrack from the room next door. Torture.

  At least I thought so. Miles seemed amused. “Talk to me or something.”

  “About what?”

  “Anything. We’re both awake, and we can’t just lie here listening to them. Tell me the name of your favorite pet when you—” A blissed-out cry and a steady thumping interrupted him. He chuckled and scooted closer to me. “Or you could tell me the name of your favorite porn star instead.”

  “This isn’t funny,” I said through gritted teeth. My boner wasn’t going anywhere. I didn’t get it. I was mortified but somehow still…horny as hell.

  “Oh lighten up, cupcake. It’s hysterical,�
�� he snorted.

  Miles rolled sideways to turn on the bedside lamp then sat up, pulling the duvet out of reach and exposing my raging hard-on. Or part of it anyway. The head peeked out from the elastic while the rest of the fabric molded around my shaft. Did I mention the precum? My briefs left nothing to the imagination.

  I scrambled to make myself decent, but it was too late. “I—um…it happens sometimes and…”

  “You don’t say.” Miles’s gaze was glued to my crotch for a long moment before he licked his lips hungrily and gulped.

  “Miles, I…” I didn’t know what to say. “Don’t mind me or the flagpole between my legs” wouldn’t work. He wasn’t the kind of guy who ignored uncomfortable situations. He barreled into them—as he’d more than proved tonight when he bumped into Tom. There’s no way he’d ignore this. He’d start asking questions any second now.

  “You’re big,” he whispered reverently. “Can I—?”

  I slapped his hand and sat up a little taller. “No.”

  He shrugged before lowering the duvet over his bare hip. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m in the same state.” He bit his plump lower lip and set his right hand in the space between us. “Could I just—?”

  I furrowed my brow and shook my head. “Are you serious?”

  “Sure. Show me yours, and I’ll show you mine, big guy,” he taunted, batting his eyelashes.

  “Oh, fuck! Yes, that’s it, baby.”

  We both glanced toward the wall separating us from the action next door. I shook my head, hoping it would clear the erotic visions dancing in my periphery. When I thought I had myself under control, I reached for the covers and glanced at my companion.

  “My first dog was a golden retriever lab mix named Apollo. I was pretty little, and I couldn’t get his name right. I used to call him Lollo,” I blurted in a rush.

  Miles’s slow grin was magic. It traveled from his pretty mouth to his brilliant eyes, crinkling them at the corner and sending an aura of joy around him. For some reason, that sassy smile made me more nervous than lying next to him in my current condition. Fuck, I had to stick to G-rated topics, or I’d surely do something I couldn’t easily undo.

  “Apollo. Did you name him after the NASA space program or Apollo Creed from Rocky or—” He paused when another “Oh yes, right there” from the next room interrupted him, and then he gave me a wide-eyed look. “Damn, they’re vocal.”

  “Very vocal,” I agreed before answering his question. “I’m Greek, and everyone in my family, including our pets, has a Greek name. Lollo was named for the Greek god of the sun. It was probably because of his golden fur, but don’t quote me.”

  “Why don’t you have a Greek name?”

  “I do.”

  “Grant isn’t a Greek name.”

  “Grant isn’t my real name. Scratch that. It’s not my given name.”

  Miles’s brow knit in confusion. “So what is your real name?”

  “Grigorios Maximos Spiros Kostas…at your service,” I replied with a wink.

  Miles bolted upright, letting the covers slip around him as he crossed his long legs. “Whoa. So your real name is Greg.”

  “No. It’s Grigorios. I was named after my father’s father. Greek tradition.”

  “Hmm. I like it. Where did Grant come from?”

  “Cary Grant.”

  “Keep talking,” he prodded with an enthusiastic hand motion.

  “I changed my name when I came to the States. The modeling agency I was working with wanted me to use my nickname, Gio, but I wanted a new start.…As Grant.”

  My voice was low and tinged with the monotone cadence I always used when reciting that particular part of my past. Truthfully, I rarely told that story anymore. Even when I glossed over it and highlighted my move to California and my days in front of a camera posing for fashion magazines, it conjured a painful time I didn’t want to revisit in any way. I was actually surprised I was being so candid with him. Not that I planned on elaborating any more than I had. That story might be an effective erection-killer, but I couldn’t deal with the specter of depression associated with those memories.

  I was pathetically grateful when another round of grunts sounded through the wall. I smiled and opened my mouth to speak, but Miles beat me to it.

  “I’m guessing that you were able to fix your problems with your family since you work for your dad.”

  “Yes. Mostly anyway.”

  “Do they call you Grant?”

  “No. Well, my cousins here do, but my parents, my sisters, and everyone back in Toronto calls me Gio. I can’t tell you how many people used to ask if I was Italian, but I think it started as Rio and evolved to Gio the way nicknames do.”

  “I like Gio, but I like Grant too. Is it strange having a pseudonym? I mean, you don’t need it for work purposes anymore. Do you ever want to tell everyone you want to go back to your real name?”

  I gave him a wry smile I knew didn’t reach my eyes. “Like I said, Grant is my real name now, and those who know me best respect that it’s the name I go by.”

  Miles held my stare. “Can I still call you ‘Ding Dong’ or ‘cupcake?’ ”

  I rolled my eyes. “Are you ever serious about anything?”

  “Ugh. I try not to be. The worst things happen when I get too serious—as exhibited earlier tonight. I get nervous and say stupid things. This is a new one for me, though. It’s very rare that I rebound in bed with a hot guy sporting major wood for me. That is because of me, right?” he asked, yanking back the covers I’d managed to pull over my lap while he was talking.

  “Cool it,” I said in a stern voice.

  He nodded but wouldn’t release the duvet. He pushed it away and sat on the corner. “If you say so. What were we talking about earlier? Pets. I had a cat named Lulu when I was a teenager. She was a pretty white Himalayan who adored me but hated my dog, Chester. They fought for my attention, which did wonders for my fragile ego, especially after a rotten day at school.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “Fresno,” he replied.

  “College?” I prodded when he didn’t continue right away.

  “Two years at the local community college, then I moved to Mountain View. I thought being close to the tech empire was a good idea. And I was right. I interviewed for a tiny start-up in a dinky office with exposed wires and outdated office furniture and had the amazing fortune to get my first real job at EN Tech. I owe everything to Eric and Nick. Especially Eric. He never gives up on people. No matter how hopeless they may seem.”

  I bent my head in agreement. “True. Do you like living in Mountain View?”

  “It’s okay. Eric’s been encouraging me to move to the city. He works out of the San Francisco office at least twice a week, and he said I could catch a helicopter ride with him when he needs to go to HQ. I’m on the fence. I have a condo in—” Miles widened his gaze as he gestured toward the far wall just as steady thumping ratcheted up to grand finale levels. “Geez. I love Eric and Zane, but this is a first. I’m surprised they didn’t think they’d wake you up.”

  “I’m a heavy sleeper. If you weren’t here, I probably wouldn’t have heard a thing. And they know it. You’re the only reason I’m awake.”

  “Are you suggesting this is my fault?” he asked in disbelief.

  “Everything about tonight is your fault, Miles. Everything.”

  “Including your boner?” he purred.

  I huffed derisively but gave in and admitted the truth. “Especially my boner.”

  “I offered to take care of that for you. It’s the least I can do. Hand job or blowjob?”

  The wicked glint in his eyes almost made me laugh, but I ignored his teasing banter and willed my traitorous cock to behave. Or to at least not twitch. Not easily done with the “Yes, yes, oh fuck yes, I’m so close” chorus in the background. It took an amazing amount of willpower not to grab my dick and pull him face first into my lap.

  I cleared my throat and steered
us back to a safe topic. “What other pets did you have growing up? Hamsters, rabbits, turtles?”

  Miles cast an amused glance at my crotch and chuckled. “Just Lulu and Chester. Ches was a rescue mutt. The sweetest thing ever but he was a handful. He’d run like crazy around the backyard, humping anything and everything. Pillows, beanbag chairs, the mailman’s leg…actually, any ol’ leg would do. My mom would scream like he was a devil dog, but I thought it was hysterical. In fact, I blame Chester for my active interest in porn,” he said matter-of-factly before lying beside me, so we were practically glued hip to hip. “I think they’re done.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Zane and Eric. It’s quiet now,” he commented idly as he lowered his right hand to rest on his stomach.

  I turned onto my side and scooted my ass backward, hoping to gain back the space he’d invaded. I didn’t get far. If I moved another inch, I’d fall off the bed. This had to end now. Lights out, no more talking. It was time to get some sleep.

  But instead of telling him to back up and turn off the light, I heard myself ask, “Do you watch a lot of porn?”

  “No more than the average healthy single gay man. How about you?”

  “I—um.” Smooth, Grant. “How is your dog to blame for your ‘active interest’?” I couldn’t look him in the eye suddenly. He was too close, and his voice was far too hypnotic. And sexy. I studied his taut abs and the dusting of hair leading south. It was a terrible distraction.

  “Well, when I was about seventeen our nasty neighbor, Mr. Brightman, who sadly did not live up to his name…got fed up with Chester hopping the fence and pooping on his lawn. Fair enough, but he didn’t handle his exasperation nicely. He grabbed poor Ches by the collar, marched him home and told my mom our damn dog was queer like her kid. I guess Chester pooped and humped and Mr. B had more than enough of his shenanigans. Then he asked if she monitored how much gay porn I downloaded ’cause it looked like I’d turned Ches into a fag dog. My mom was pissed. She hated that nasty man, and she told me to pay him no mind. I assured her I didn’t. Honestly, I was almost immune to being called a fag by then. I’d heard it on the playground and in the classroom every day from the time I was ten. Mr. Not-so-Brightman taking a crack at me wasn’t going to hurt my feelings. I’d just make sure Ches rolled in the mud before I sicced him on that bastard the next time.”