Tasting Notes

by Cate Ashwood

  She stopped in front of a room marked with the number twelve and slid the key into the lock.

  “Here we are. I hope you’ll enjoy your stay. If you have any questions, or if you require anything else, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

  “Thank you,” they said in unison.

  She turned on her heel and walked back down the hall. Rush motioned for West to enter, and when he did, he stopped short a few inches inside the door.

  “Oh wow,” Rush said from behind him. “This is….”

  “Horrendous?” West finished for him.

  “I was going to say ugly as fuck, but horrendous works just as well, I suppose.”

  “I don’t even know what to say.”

  “It certainly does take your breath away, doesn’t it?”

  The room was large, with a bed in the very center of green and white checkerboard tiled floors. The walls were done in some sort of badly painted Italian-inspired mural, with naked statues and poorly proportioned flowers. Whoever designed the room intended for the guest to feel like they were sleeping in a garden, but it more closely resembled a bad LSD trip.

  The bedspread was a minty green, with enough shine to momentarily blind you and enough polyester lace it could have been mistaken for a wedding dress from the eighties. Off to the side was a raised portion of the room, divided from the rest by a low wall of pillars. Atop it sat a large Jacuzzi.

  “Oh my God,” West heard Rush say, and he followed his line of sight to the ceiling, where there was more poorly executed trompe l’oeil imagery, this time of the sky, complete with clouds and flying cherubs.

  “I don’t know if I’m going to be able to sleep in here,” West admitted.

  “I know what you mean. I feel as though we might be murdered in our sleep by the ghosts of the old ladies whose dreams died in this room.”

  West laughed. “That didn’t make any sense.”

  “I know. The horrific walls are already driving me mad.” Rush pretended to be frightened, clinging to West and shaking in mock terror.

  There was a loud knock at the door, startling them both.

  “I’m scared,” Rush whispered.

  West laughed again and went to answer the door. The woman from the front desk was back.

  “I am terribly sorry, gentlemen,” she said. “There’s been a mix-up. Two of our regular customers actually reserved this room months ago, but my husband took the reservation and neglected to make note of it. I was wondering if you would mind very much switching rooms. I would be happy to discount your rate and offer a late checkout to make up for the inconvenience.”

  “Not a problem,” West said quickly. “We haven’t even started unpacking.”

  “Wonderful. If you’d like to grab your things, I’ll show you to the proper room.”

  Rush and West did as they were asked, picking up their bags and following the woman down the hall a few doors to number sixteen.

  “Here we are.” She did the same as before, unlocking the door before handing them the keys and stepping away.

  The two men walked into the room, and Rush let out a sigh of relief.

  “Thank God,” he said, setting his bag down on the floor. Their new room was completely different from the last. The word gaudy was still a fitting description, but it was downright subdued compared to the last one.

  The color scheme was simpler: dark blue, gold, and purple. The carpets were navy, studded periodically with large gold stars. The head of the oversized bed was against one wall, with velvety purple curtains hung in swags over it. The duvet matched the carpet’s blue and gold star theme, but with the added adornments of gold roping complete with tassels. The walls were papered in an alternating dark and light purple stripe.

  “It looks like a tacky magician’s sex den,” Rush said.

  “At least I don’t feel like I’m being watched by demonic cherubs.”

  “That’s definitely a selling feature. What’s in here?” Rush asked, stepping through the doorway into the adjoining room. “Oh my God, you have to come see this.”

  West jogged in after him and stopped in his tracks. The same arrangement from the first room was presented in this one. Half the room was elevated a foot off the ground, divided by a low pillared wall. A couch was positioned on the lower section so whoever was sitting on it would have a clear view of the two claw-foot tubs that sat side by side on the upper level.

  “This is… I don’t even know what this is,” West said. “Do people use this as a sex room? Is this for swingers? Or orgies? Or?”

  “I have no idea. There are mirrors on the ceiling in here, though,” Rush said, pointing toward the two large mirrors in ornate gold frames that were adhered to the ceiling above the tubs.

  West burst out laughing. “Leave it to you to lead me into a den of iniquity.”

  “Hey, you chose this place. You said it looked nice on the website.”

  “Well, no one on TripAdvisor mentioned it was a sex house with themed rooms.”

  Rush looked at West, a slow smile spreading across his face. “When in Rome,” he said, stalking across the room and hooking his fingers into the waistband of West’s pants.

  “Uh, I think that was the last room.”

  “Shut up,” Rush said before he took West in a heated kiss.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Rush’s kiss consumed him, making his body tingle and his head swim. There was something in the way Rush moved, the way he kissed with his whole body, that made West feel like he was the center of the universe. When he pulled back, the way Rush looked at him made his heart stutter. His eyes were dark, needy, and West could barely breathe through the intensity in that look.

  He slid his hand around the back of Rush’s neck, pulling him back in, kissing him again. Intensity flared in that kiss, the pace slow but every movement deliberate, measured. It had never been like this before, and West was ready to lose himself in it.

  He held on, grateful Rush was there, anchoring him. West’s legs felt unsteady beneath him. Rush moved his hands, sliding them along West’s jaw as he continued to kiss him. He could feel Rush, hard and ready against his hip. They were in no hurry. They had hours between then and sunrise to take what they needed from each other.

  Rush undressed him with a slow tenderness, leaning into him as he pushed West’s shirt over his shoulders and down his arms. He dropped his head forward, kissing the sensitive skin at the curve of West’s shoulder. He sighed against the warmth of Rush’s body and let his hands roam along Rush’s back, gently tugging his shirt up so he could trace his fingertips along the ridge of muscle at Rush’s spine.

  “Need you,” West said, surprised by how helpless he sounded.

  Rush separated from him long enough to strip his clothes off. Then he was back, surrounding West with his body heat as he crowded against him. Every touch was more intense than before. Rush’s hands wandered over West’s body, setting his skin on fire as he stroked. Rush lowered him back onto the bed, then climbed over him, finding his mouth once more and kissing him.

  He tasted so good, and West wanted to stay there forever, sex den or not, if he could be like this with Rush always. The whole day faded into the background. Everything fell away. And all that was left was Rush and the way he kissed West into oblivion.

  West shivered when Rush’s hands brushed against the sensitive skin behind his balls, his fingers working backward to massage the tight ring of West’s entrance. West groaned and shifted his hips, needing more than Rush was giving him. He gripped Rush’s arms, too far gone to put into words what he needed, but Rush seemed to understand.

  He pushed himself up and moved quickly over to their bags. In no time he retrieved the condoms and lube, and he was back, sliding on top of West once more, the lube in his hands. Rush opened the tube and poured a little onto his fingers before reaching down and putting his hands back where they were moments before.

  West nearly wept with relief as he felt one blunt fingertip breaching him. He whimp
ered and let his head fall back against the bed as Rush worked first one finger inside, then two. It felt so good—too good—and West was already creeping closer to the edge than he would have liked.

  Taking a deep breath, he fought to rein in his body. As quickly as he regained control, Rush shattered it, leaning forward and engulfing his cock in the heat of his mouth. West’s hips flew from the bed as his body took over, thrusting down the back of Rush’s throat. Without missing a beat, Rush crooked his fingers deep inside, brushing against his prostate and sending him right over the edge into blissful release.

  Rush gentled his mouth, slowly bringing West back down. He hadn’t meant to come, wanting to wait until Rush was inside him, but his orgasm did nothing to sate his desire for Rush. Sitting up, he slid his hands to Rush’s arms, pulling him back onto the bed.

  “You okay?” Rush asked, his eyebrows knit together.

  West beamed at him. “Yep.”

  Rush kissed him again, harder this time, the passion ebbing into it. West arched against him, testing the sensitivity of his cock as it slid against Rush’s belly. West wasn’t used to sex after an orgasm, but he found he wanted it, wanted Rush. He wasn’t done, and thank God, Rush wasn’t either.

  Pulling Rush toward him, he begged him with his body to fuck him, and Rush was nothing if not accommodating. He swallowed West’s cry as he entered him, pushing forward in one smooth motion until he was buried deep. He waited, letting West adjust to him. The first couple of strokes were slow, measured, but soon he picked up speed, his hands gripping tighter as he thrust, and he didn’t stop.

  West could feel his orgasm, deep inside him, start to build. He didn’t think he could come again this soon, but his body was telling him a different story as his muscles tensed and his breathing quickened. Rush was close too. West could tell by the way his chest heaved and his mouth opened, the expression of pleasure passing over his face as he moved.

  Rush reached between them and wrapped his fist around West’s oversensitive cock, gripping hard enough to take him to the point between pleasure and pain. With one last thrust, Rush arched, coming hard. The sights and sensations of Rush’s orgasm assaulted West, pulling his own from him. He came again, this time different from the last, longer and more intense.

  “Holy fuck,” Rush grunted, carefully pulling out. West winced against the soreness in his ass, but when Rush kissed him, he forgot all about it.

  They lay together in the blissed-out afterglow of three orgasms, sweat cooling on their skin and thoughts floating in their heads. Something had changed between them, something significant. West wasn’t willing to put a name to it yet, but he liked it. He liked the powerful feeling he got when Rush’s attention was focused solely on him. He liked the way he felt he could relax with him, that he wasn’t being judged or evaluated.

  West thought back to the first day they formally met and the flash of deep anger in Rush’s eyes when he answered the door. He was the focus of those looks now, but rather than anger, there was something else in Rush’s gaze, something more potent, something addictive and freeing

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “This has worked out differently than I ever thought it would,” West said quietly.

  Rush pulled him closer, relishing the stillness of the middle of the night and being wrapped up in him. “Do you mean your feelings about the hotel? You want to stay here forever now?” he teased.

  West laughed. “No, I mean you and me. You hated me from the moment you laid eyes on me… and now, well, I’m no mind reader, but I’m guessing you don’t hate me.” He nuzzled against Rush’s warm skin.

  “I’m sorry,” Rush said sincerely. “I was an asshole when we first met.”

  “You won’t get an argument out of me, but you’re forgiven.”

  “You forgive me? Just like that? No explanation?”

  “I haven’t known you long, but I know you’re a good man, and I know you must have had good reason. So yeah, all is forgiven.”

  Rush swallowed hard. He was floored by West’s reasoning. It should have made him feel good, hearing West thought so much of him, but it made him feel like shit. He was such an asshole.

  “I should have given you the benefit of the doubt,” Rush said.

  “I’m sure you had your reasons.”

  “I did. But they weren’t necessarily good reasons. I guess I’ve had bad experiences with people with money. Or rather one really terrible person with money.”

  West was quiet, as though giving Rush the time he needed to formulate his thoughts into a cohesive story. It wasn’t an easy one to tell, and Rush was grateful for West’s patience.

  “His name was David Montgomery, and his family had more money than they knew what to do with. I met him my first year in college. He was one of my group members in my poli-sci class, and I knew he was a tool from the first moment I met him. He was rich, and he wanted everyone to know it. He bought all the group members presents to make up for the fact he didn’t do a goddamn thing in that class, and yet he was always the one with the highest marks. I found out later his family donated a significant amount of money to get him into the program in the first place.

  “After graduation, we both went on to join the Marines, went through the aviation selection test battery, and ended up in officer training school together.”

  “Did his family pay his way through that too?”

  “I don’t have any proof, but I’ve always had my suspicions. It wouldn’t have been easy, but his family had more connections than anyone I’ve ever met. He didn’t have the drive and the passion to be a good Marine. He wanted the prestige of a high rank without doing the work to get there. He was in it for glory and titles and as a way to inflate his ego even more.

  “After we finished our flight school, we ended up in different units. The guy didn’t know jack shit, but for some reason ended up at the top of the class. In my opinion, he wasn’t fit to be a pilot at all. Unfortunately, the people who matter didn’t see it or didn’t care, and he was assigned to a CAS unit during our deployment in Iraq.”

  “CAS?”

  “Close Air Support. Basically, it means they’re the backup for the Marines on the ground. Even though we were pilots, we were Marines first. Marines first and pilots second. It was his job to keep them safe.”

  “He didn’t, did he?”

  West’s voice was quiet. He’d already figured out what Rush was going to say. Rush shook his head.

  “No. There was an attack, and half the unit didn’t make it out. If David had done his job right… I gave up on the what-ifs a long time ago.”

  “I know every life is precious, but I have to ask… was there someone important to you who didn’t make it back?”

  Rush took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He hadn’t planned on telling West about Chase. Not yet. If they were still together a few months down the line, maybe, but the man was too perceptive for his own good. “There was a guy… Chase. We went through college together, joined up together. He was on the ground, and I was in the air, but we spent all our off time together. He grew up in Redding, so we had a lot in common….”

  “And he died?”

  Rush nodded. “He was one of the Marines who didn’t make it through the attack.”

  West tightened his grip on Rush. “I’m really sorry. I can’t imagine….”

  “It’s okay. It was a long time ago. I’ve done my grieving. I’ll never forget him, but I’ve dealt with the loss.”

  “Is that why you left the military?”

  “Probably part of the reason. I completed one more tour before I left. I was done with that life. I miss him. I always will, but Chase wasn’t the only reason I retired.”

  “What ever happened to David?”

  “He was court-martialed and dishonorably discharged. I don’t know what became of him after that.”

  “It doesn’t seem like enough.”

  “No, but for him, it was probably the worst thing that could have happened. It tarnish
ed his reputation and that of his family as well. He wouldn’t have taken that lightly.”

  “Still. He was responsible for lives lost.”

  Rush nodded. He was suddenly exhausted, like he’d run the hundred miles to the coast rather than flying there. West kissed his temple and cuddled in close, seeming to understand what Rush needed. He was still reeling from the change the last couple of months brought. He never expected to fall in love with a billionaire who was simply passing through town.

  The next morning, both West and Rush slept in later than they had in years. Rush woke first, opening his eyes slowly to the brightness in the room. West still slept peacefully beside him, and although he had to pee, he chose to wait, not wanting to disrupt West’s sleep. He turned slowly to the side, gazing at the clock on the mantle of the fireplace. It was nearly eleven, but they didn’t have anything they had to do that day. There were no pressing obligations or responsibilities. They could stay in bed all day if they wanted to.

  Rush felt West stir beside him.

  “Good morning, handsome,” Rush said.

  “Good morning,” West replied, a lazy smile breaking. “Did you sleep okay?”

  “Better than I’ve slept in a long time.”

  “I guess purging the past will have that effect,” West said.

  “Maybe it does.” Rush did feel lighter that morning than he ever remembered feeling, although he attributed it to waking up next to the man he loved. He couldn’t say that, though. Despite the fact that his feelings had solidified in his mind, and he knew beyond a doubt he was head over heels, he didn’t want to say anything yet.

  He didn’t know how long he’d wait, but things with them were up in the air. They never discussed what they were or where they saw this going, and in the back of Rush’s mind, he held tightly to the fact that West said himself Canyon Creek was not his forever home. He was going back to Chicago, and Rush didn’t want his feelings for West to influence his decision about where he wanted to be.