by Tara Lain
The bartender gave him a smile with maybe a hint of recognition. “What can I get you?”
“White wine, please.”
The bartender served it up, and Nate took a sip, then glanced around the room casually. Since it was a regular night at the club, no one would be expecting to be picked up, so he needed to keep his perusal on the down low. Not that there was much to see. Most people were in pairs or small groups, chatting, drinking, and eating. Nate took another drink. He’d finish his wine and go home. Instead of making him feel more social, this was just making him feel more alone.
After another swallow, he pushed the glass that still held a finger or so of wine away from him.
The bartender was there in a flash. “Another one?”
“No, thanks. Just my tab.”
“Sure I can’t get you something else?”
A deep voice came from behind him. “I think he might like a glass of champagne.”
Suspended. Nate couldn’t move because if he looked over his shoulder and it wasn’t him, the big guy, Nate was going to be so disappointed it would actually hurt.
The bartender stared past Nate and grinned. “Shall I make that two glasses of champagne?”
The voice got closer to Nate’s ear. “Can I buy you a drink?”
Okay, I’ve got to know. Holding his breath, Nate did the deed; he looked and felt the smile slide onto his face. “Yes, I’d like that.” Merry Christmas to me.
The bartender beamed. “So two champagnes coming up.”
The big man had dark blue eyes to go with his overlong curly dark hair. Maybe a day’s worth of scruff outlined his jaw, which emphasized the architectural cut of his cheekbones. My oh my oh my.
Nate turned to take in the full view. Big Guy wore jeans, not coat-of-paint tight like Lewis’s had been, but certainly making love to a pair of rock-hard thighs and cupping a breathtaking package. Like Nate, Big Guy wore blue, but his was a crisp shirt with a well-used brown leather jacket over it. The tats on his arms showed under the loose shirt cuffs, and he wore a frigging diamond in the side of his slim, high-bridged nose. Be still my heart. It was like somebody bottled alpha and here it stood. Nate wanted a big, long drink.
The guy held out his hand. “Asher. Asher Dane.”
Nate almost laughed. This dude would not be named Maurice. He took Asher’s hand. “Nate.” Nate was no small guy, but his hand disappeared into Asher’s, and he could feel every callus.
Asher nodded at the empty barstool next to Nate. “May I?”
Nate grinned. “Unless we want to have our champagne at separate tables.”
Asher slid on the stool, the denim emphasizing every muscle movement. He leaned on the bar and smiled at Nate, a move that flipped Nate’s heart as well as lower parts. Asher said, “I was sorry to see you go last night, and I wasn’t the only one.”
“I didn’t realize you noticed.”
A dimple popped beside Asher’s mouth. “Sure you did. I broke land speed records getting down those stairs.”
Nate’s pulse quickened if that was possible. “I-I didn’t think you’d come down to see me.”
“Oh yeah. I did.”
Before Nate could dissolve in a puddle of goo, the bartender arrived with two flutes of bubbly and set them in front of them. “Snacks?”
Asher gazed at Nate. “Hungry?”
Oh dear God, what a question. “Yes. I mean, I ate, but a nibble would be nice.” He felt heat warming his cheeks.
Asher said to the bartender, “What ya got?”
“Wings?”
“Too messy.”
“Cheese plate?”
“Perfect.” Asher looked at Nate. “Yes?”
“Yes.”
The bartender walked away, and Asher picked up his glass and held it out to Nate. Nate grabbed his and clinked against Asher’s. Then like some kind of Disney movie with dogs, they stared in each other’s eyes as they both sipped. Disney for sure, because Asher drank, then licked the rim of his glass quickly with a pink tongue that sent Nate straight to Fantasyland.
Asher smiled. “Shall I be prosaic and ask what you do?”
Nate snorted. “Excuse me, but I haven’t heard that word in a sentence very often.” He didn’t add he’d never expect it from a guy who could clearly star in The Fast and the Furious.
Asher leaned in. “It’s fun to be unexpected.”
“Well sadly, my profession is kind of prosaic. I’m an admissions administrator at the college. You?”
“I build things. I’ll bet it’s fun getting to help kids get into college.”
Nate’s turn to smile. “You know, it actually is fun. Not many people think of that. They hear administrator and assume it’s boring.”
“There’s that saying about assuming.”
“Asses. You. Me?”
“Yep.”
The bartender brought a plate of several kinds of cheese plus fruit and crackers.
Nate said, “Yum.”
“It sounded good with champagne.” Asher took a strawberry from the plate and carefully dropped it in Nate’s glass. “Cheers.”
Okay, a romantic alpha male was too much for a heart to bear. “So you build—”
“Have you lived in Ashland long?”
“Uh, not in the city of Ashland, but I’ve lived in the area most of my life. I bought a house in Ashland two years ago. Do you live in the city?”
“Yes, just a few blocks from here.”
Nate chewed a grape and nodded. “That makes sense. I thought I saw you walking past a store I was in earlier today.”
“You noticed?” Asher flashed the dimples again.
“Oh yeah.” Nate smirked. “In fact, I embarrassed myself by running out the door and trying to catch you, but you vanished. If it was you.”
Asher slid his long fingers across Nate’s forearm where it lay on the bar. “You caught me now.”
Damn, it was getting harder to breathe, partly because his jeans were too tight.
Asher said softly, “I could ask for the rest of our cheese to go and I could walk you home and—”
Nate’s eyes widened. “Uh, no. I-I have a kid. A kid who’s very nervous around, uh, strangers.” There, that probably queered the deal, or maybe unqueered the deal.
Instead of frowning, which Nate expected, Asher smiled. “Revise. I could ask for the cheese to go and walk you to my home.”
Oh. My. God. Nate could feel his mouth hanging open.
Asher said, “I know this is pretty precipitous. Feel free to say no.”
“Precipitous?”
He cocked his head. “Sudden. Unconsidered.”
“I know what it means.”
“But do you do it?” Both dimples flashed this time.
“I can’t be late. My kid.” Nate could barely get the words out.
Asher whispered, “It doesn’t necessarily have to take long.”
Oh dear God, he could come sitting here. “Yes.”
“I said yes.” The grin made Asher’s eyes sparkle.
Nate’s words quoting James Joyce came out on a sigh. “I will, yes.”
Asher signaled the bartender. “Could we get the rest of this wrapped up? We feel a picnic coming on.”
The bartender chuckled and quickly scooped their goodies into what looked like a recyclable cardboard container—that was Ashland. He set it on the bar as Asher reached for money.
Nate grabbed for his wallet, but Asher said, “My treat.” He pointed at the last swallow of champagne in Nate’s glass. “Want to finish?”
Liquid courage. Nate downed the rest.
Asher took Nate’s hand, waved at the bartender, and led Nate to the stairs.
Holy crap, am I doing this? What if he’s an ax murderer? Right, an ax murderer who quotes Ulysses. Could happen.
At the bottom of the stairs, Asher said, “Who’s winning the argument?”
“What?”
“The ax murderer argument.” He gave Nate the side eye and a cute grin. “R
emember, you could be a serial killer too.”
Nate planted his hand on his hips and stared up from his six feet to what had to be Asher’s six five. “Right. Me and what serial killer army?”
Asher started to laugh, and Nate joined in until they were standing on the sidewalk holding each other up.
Finally, Asher took Nate’s hand, and they walked across the plaza, then trotted across Main Street.
Nate’s head spun with questions. Why did a guy who looked like a mixed martial arts fighter use words like prosaic? Where did he go to school? What did he mean build things? But what was the point? It wasn’t like he and Asher had a future. Hell, get this guy within twenty feet of Delly and she’d have a panic attack. No, he had to enjoy the moment for what it was.
They walked past the street where Nate had seen Asher earlier in the day—the street with the Fairy Shop. A block later, Asher turned left, and then a few yards down the street, he turned into the alley that Nate had seen when he’d chased Asher.
Nate said, “Oh.”
Asher looked at him.
“I see why I lost you when I chased you today. I got to this alley and you were gone.”
Asher stopped at a door in the back wall of one of the two-story buildings. “Right. I vanished into thin—” He pushed open the door. “—staircase.”
Chapter Four
NATE STARED into the space Asher had revealed behind the door. Sure enough, through the door was a steep staircase leading who knew where. A flash of ax murderer popped in Nate’s mind, but it made him smile. Asher stepped back and waved Nate through.
He started climbing and heard the door close behind him. “Whoa. These stairs give the Rose and Crown competition. No wonder you’re so fit.”
Asher put a hand on Nate’s arm from behind. Nate stopped like a shy pony.
Asher came up another stair until he was one step below, which put them face-to-face. He said, “These stairs are so steep I always figure it’s good to take a rest in the middle.” He reached out a hand and captured the back of Nate’s neck, then drew him in until—oh God—their lips met.
Two things.
First, it had been so damned long that the mere fact of another man’s lips on his could make his heart stop.
Second was the reality of Asher’s mouth. Full, warm, and consuming, his lips gently persuaded Nate’s to part, and then he dove, taking possession deep inside.
Too much. It was embarrassing, but Nate started to shake.
Asher wrapped his arms around him. “Better get you to more solid ground.” But he still went in for another hot, possessive kiss. When he pulled back, his blue eyes stormed. “Upstairs, quick.”
Nate didn’t know what was up there, but it had to be more comfortable than sex on the stairs, so he turned and mastered the peak. “I feel like I summited K2.”
In front of him, low lighted, was a huge room that had been masterfully segmented into living spaces—a big bed in one corner partly shielded by an Asian screen, a lounging area with a leather sectional, a dining table and chairs, and bookshelves everywhere. A granite island divided the kitchen from the main living space.
Asher snorted and came up behind him, wrapping his hands around Nate’s shoulders. “What can I get you? Beer, wine, lube?”
Nate spun so he was facing Asher. “Definitely the latter in the large economy size.”
Asher smiled softly. “I like your style. Why don’t you take off your coat—and anything else that’s in the way—and choose a surface that seems most amenable to sucking or fucking or whatever else you have in mind? The bed’s good, but I can also recommend the couch.” Nate’s knees actually wobbled at the thought, but Asher gripped him tightly. “Would I be correct that you like to bottom?”
“Yes, oh hell yes. But I don’t mind topping, too, and you should know it’s been a while, although I’ve tried to keep the area, uh, loose.”
“Glad to hear it. I’m amenable to whatever cranks your chain. I’m gonna go use the bathroom for a minute, and after that, it’s all yours.” He kissed Nate lightly, turned, and displayed his Academy Award–winning, denim-covered butt all the way to the other end of the room where he walked through a door.
Nate inhaled, took off his coat, dropped it on a chair, and then his hands stilled. Surviving this much excitement required some deep breathing before he went any further.
He walked around the room, half looking at the nicely organized, attractively decorated, and pristinely clean spaces. Funny. Maybe not what he expected. Some part of him thought Asher might sleep on a cot in the back of a motorcycle garage. He chuckled at his own idiocy. How did sleeping in a dirty squat match up with Asher’s vocabulary, manners, and choice of reading material? Nate glanced at the well-used books by authors ranging from Austen to Dostoevsky, mitigated by a collection of gay romance novels on an accessible shelf. Over in a corner near the window on the opposite side of the room from the bed and protected by another screen that looked antique was what appeared to be a meditation space complete with candles, some books like the Bhagavad Gita and the sutras of Patanjali, and a painting of—what? An abstract idea of maybe an angel or divine being or something. It was beautiful, that was for sure. What an enigma.
Am I disappointed he’s not less civilized?
Hell, no. The reality of dirt was a whole lot less enticing than the pornographic dream.
He turned slowly in a circle. The big open room was a place he’d happily hang out in. Whoa. Wake up, asshole. You’re in no position to be hanging out with anyone, even if Asher was interested— “Holy shit!”
Asher stood outside the bathroom door wearing his jeans—barely—and nothing else. His chest proved even more awe-inspiring than Nate’s imagination had conjured: huge, heavily muscled shoulders and arms covered in colorful tattoos contrasted with his narrow waist and slim hips. Yes, those would be the hips over which the jeans were unfastened and gapped to reveal a happy trail pointing directly to a dark nest of hair curling out around the zipper.
Nate shook his head. “Warn a guy.”
“Uh, Nate, I’m done in the bathroom now.” Asher grinned, and Nate flopped onto the edge of the sectional that he happened to be standing next to.
Asher stepped closer. “You okay?”
Some nodding took the place of an answer. Finally, Nate said, “It really has been too long and, well, let’s say my anticipation level is high.”
“Then get out of those clothes and let’s make our dreams come true.”
“Uh, I better take you up on that bathroom first.”
Asher waved an arm toward the bathroom, walked over to the windows, and began lowering the shades.
Nate hurried into the assigned door and got another surprise. The bathroom was big and almost palatial, with two sinks, a huge tub, and a walk-in shower. Wow. The place couldn’t have come this way, could it? Maybe Asher the builder had installed it himself.
Just distracted enough to keep from passing out, Nate pulled off his sweater. Hmm. He was really slim compared to Asher. Hope he’s not disappointed.
He kicked off his shoes, pulled the socks, undid his belt—and stopped. Uh, how bold was he prepared to get?
The blue shirt that Asher had taken off hung on a hook on the back of the bathroom door. Nate smiled, pulled off his jeans and boxer briefs, and slid on the shirt. As expected, it fit him like a tent—even more like a tent since his erection was imitating a center pole as Nate inhaled Asher’s citrusy scent clinging to the cotton.
He glanced in the mirror. Too-bright eyes gazed back at him.
Don’t think. Do it.
He opened the door and strode into the living quarters.
Once more, he caught his breath—stunned. Soft music played, something dreamily classical, the lights had been lowered even more, and candles burned on different surfaces in the living area. He barely saw any of it, because on the center of the big bed, candlelight reflected on acres of pale-bronze skin, lay Asher, on his back, legs akimbo as he gently str
oked what could only be described as a mighty erection.
Nate swallowed. “Uh, I feel like I’m about to climb K2 again.”
“You know how they get up K2, don’t you?”
“With great self-confidence?”
Asher smiled. “One step at a time.” He patted the bed beside him. “That shirt has never looked better.”
Nate swung his hips just a little as he walked toward the bed, which felt both silly and sexy. When he got to the side of the bed, Asher rolled up onto his knees, his giant hard-on thrusting out from his groin, and said, “May I unwrap my package?” He knee-walked closer.
Nate nodded, and Asher began to unbutton the shirt. As Nate’s chest was uncovered, Asher caught Nate’s nipple in his lips and sucked.
“Holy crap.” The words came out on a long column of air.
Asher moved to laving the other nipple and gently nibbling with his teeth. He pulled back and unbuttoned more until Nate’s very erect cock came into view through the gap in the shirt front. “Well, hello there.”
Asher dropped to his side and swallowed Nate’s dick into his hot, wet mouth and down his throat.
Oh God, the best thing ever—ever!
Nate actually shouted in very happy shock and collapsed on the bed, where Asher flipped him on his back and dove again to his task.
In two seconds, Nate’s hips were setting new records in yoga poses, arching toward the ceiling as his head thrashed on the crisp white sheet. “Oh God, Asher. Oh man!”
Heat traveled to his head until he saw dancing white lights and energy pooled in his groin, ready to explode and—just like that, Asher was gone.
“Wait. What?” Nate raised his head in time to see Asher grab his legs and raise them as Asher’s head traveled downward and Nate felt— Oh shit, you’re kidding.
Hot and wet touched his most sensitive parts, soothing Nate and driving him over the edge at the same time. Then the hot got replaced by cool and sticky, but it came with a slim intruder and felt so good it was ridiculous. Nate pushed back to take all of the lube-covered finger.