Cooper Construction Series Box Set

by Jen Davis

  The salacious look on Parker’s face fell away. “He was a bear for the first few months—and I don’t mean in the obvious way. He loved you. It was a shock when you left.”

  Probably because John kept his boys until they grew too old for his taste. Rarely did one leave of his own choosing. “A shock, yeah. But love? I wouldn’t assign emotions to it. You know how those arrangements work. I was his property, not his partner.”

  Parker shrugged, but the careless effect was strained. “You make it sound like it’s all bad. I like feeling like I belong to somebody.”

  There was belonging to someone and there was belonging to someone. For more than a year, John had controlled every aspect of his life, from the clothes he wore to the food he ate. John chose his friends and his entertainment. And he called all the shots in the bedroom. If Robby had an opinion on any of it, he kept it to himself or faced the consequences.

  “I guess I’ve changed,” he said grimly. He pushed the shot in front of him back toward Parker.

  “Maybe you want somebody to belong to you now.”

  Parker’s hand on his sent a chill up his spine. He knew what the man was suggesting. Attractive as Parker was, there wasn’t even a temptation to say yes. He eased the man’s hand away and took a small step back.

  A subtle nod from Parker told him he understood.

  “I think I’m just going to dance a bit. Enjoy the music.” He took another step back, then spun on his heel. Parker’s offer had made him a little sad.

  But he wasn’t here to wallow. He was here to have a good time. At twenty-three, he was no longer fresh meat. Things could be different this time. He’d been lonely for so long.

  For the first time in his life, he had close friends. But watching their domestic bliss reminded him day in and day out what he was still missing…someone of his own. A relationship, in a perfect world, but right now, he’d settle for a square jaw and broad shoulders. Maybe tonight, his self-imposed chastity could finally come to an end.

  After just seconds on the dance floor, a set of strong hands gripped his hips and a solid body pressed at his back. Though he couldn’t see the man’s face, he gave in to the pleasure of the guy grinding against him. Moments later, another dancer in front of him closed in. The new guy was Hispanic and thick with muscles. Decked out in a mesh white shirt over hairless brown skin, the man smelled of a musky aftershave, which made Robby’s libido stand up and take notice.

  He closed his eyes and reveled in the feeling of being sandwiched between the two men. The erection of the man behind him ground into his backside as the guy in front of him pushed the evidence of his arousal against his pelvis. The strobe lights flashed bright, even through his eyelids. The driving tempo of the music echoed in his bones.

  He nearly drowned in a sea of sensations when warm, wet lips trailed over the skin of his neck. Shuddering, he clasped his hand gently behind his partner’s neck. It had been so long, he’d almost forgotten how good it felt to be wanted.

  His hips moved restlessly, seeking the friction the other man provided.

  Then, suddenly, the Hispanic guy disappeared, and the dancer behind him gasped and scurried back.

  He opened his eyes and, for a moment, forgot to breathe. Until a firm grip circled his upper arm and pulled him off the dance floor, toward the bar.

  It was no mystery why there was now a five-foot bubble of empty space surrounding him. John Madigan was not a huge man, not particularly tall or muscular, but his presence was undeniable. He exuded a power borne entirely of his will.

  Though in his early forties by now, his ex still had his college-professor type of good looks. Robby had always thought he looked a little like Liam Neeson in the movie he made with Jodie Foster.

  John’s brown hair still parted on the left. Only now, there were a few streaks of gray. He had a few more soft lines around his hazel eyes, but there was nothing else soft about his face. His jaw was hard, and his gaze locked on Robby like a laser beam.

  “I thought he was lying.” John squeezed his arm tighter.

  Robby accepted the pain for a moment, before he realized he could shake off the man’s grip.

  When he did it, John’s eyes widened for a moment, but he didn’t try to retake his hold. “Parker told me he saw you, but I didn’t believe it. Not until I saw you myself.”

  “Here I am.” He lifted his palms, then gave John his back as he motioned to the bartender for a bottle of water.

  Only it was John who spoke first when the server came over. “Two gin and tonics. On my tab.”

  He ground his teeth, accepted the drinks, and handed one to his former lover. He hated gin and tonic, mostly because the drink reminded him of the man standing in front of him now. Lifting it to his mouth, he pretended to take a sip. The smell alone brought him back to nights that had shamed him months and years later.

  John raised his eyebrow. “I’m glad to see you’re not guzzling it down. You know how you get when you drink too fast.”

  If only he still drank so he could down it just for spite. “I can make those decisions for myself, thanks.”

  The smile John gave him made him shiver. “Of course you can. You’re all grown up now. You’ve got a man’s body.” His ex stepped closer, his familiar clove scent making Robby’s pants grow uncomfortably tight. As many problems as he’d had with John, sexual attraction had never been one of them.

  He put his hands against John’s chest to push him away, but not before sinewy arms snaked around his waist. Before he could protest, John’s mouth was on his, his tongue slipping inside. Moving. Massaging.

  John’s right hand slid against the front of Robby’s pants, cupping his growing erection, then stroking it, a hot secret, hidden from the room in the small space between them.

  He groaned, and still kissing him with booze on his breath, John pulled him into one of the dark corners of the room. Despite the crowd, anyone could find a secluded spot in the club, designed for encounters just like this one.

  Roughly, John pushed his back against the wall. The man’s deft fingers unbuttoned his pants. His hand slid down the front of Robby’s boxer-briefs, headed toward his—

  “No, John.”

  It was like he hadn’t said a word. John’s hand continued its descent into his underwear, wrapping itself confidently around his straining erection. Then, he stroked.

  Temptation sang a siren’s song to give into the pleasure. John could play his body like a violin. But there were reasons Robby had walked away. By the end, things between them had become unbearable, and he would be damned if he fell into this tarpit again. Memories, long suppressed, flashed through his head. The games, the humiliation, the piles of cocaine he snorted to make him forget how awful he felt. Almost.

  “I said no!” he shouted, shoving his former lover away.

  John released him as he reeled back, his face slack in shock. It quickly turned thunderous. “What the fuck?”

  Adjusting himself back into place, he refastened his button. “I told you to stop.”

  “You forget yourself. I set the rules here, not you.” John raised his hand, but Robby slapped it away.

  “I haven’t forgotten anything, but maybe you have.” He stepped forward, his chest bumping John’s. “I left you. I support myself now. Pay my own rent, buy my own food. Which means I get to set my own rules.”

  For the first time, he realized he’d actually grown bigger than his ex. It wasn’t a huge difference, but it gave him an extra shot of confidence. “Now I understand why you like ‘em young. No grown man would ever let you walk over him the way you did me.”

  John scowled. “All grown up now, are you? You think you don’t need a daddy anymore?”

  He poked his finger at John’s chest. “I don’t need you.”

  “As if anyone else would have you.” John flicked Robby’s hand away, then smoothed his palm down the front of his shirt, putting himself to rights. “If you had a man, you wouldn’t be here. Spare me your high and mighty act
. You have nothing. And without me you are nothing.”

  Direct hit.

  If he had a man, he wouldn’t be trolling this meat market.

  The bloom of his confidence withered on the vine.

  John always could home in on the perfect way to break his spirit. He had the ability to deconstruct Robby’s every thought and action and manipulate him with his deepest insecurities and fears. Like abandonment and rejection.

  There was nothing more terrifying than the people you love turning their back on you.

  Well, he might not have a man to share his bed, but he did have people who loved him now. It wasn’t the same, but it was something. Something that mattered.

  He smiled. It wasn’t easy, but it was real. “You’re wrong.” The soft words barely carried over the music.

  John must’ve heard the truth in them, though, because his cruel grin slipped, and he blinked slowly. “You kissed me back. You wanted me. Wanted what I can do to you.”

  Maybe.

  It was easier not to answer. Instead, he stepped around his old lover and beat a path to the front door. He didn’t run the way he wanted to. It was a confident walk, one with loose limbs and his head held high.

  The mask held all the way to the car, all the way back to his small apartment. Once he got home, he zeroed in on the bathroom, turning the shower on blazing hot. He stripped away his club clothes, then climbed in the tiny stall, scouring away the smell of the booze, the smoke, and John.

  The hot water barely registered.

  He refused to think; he just went through the motions, lathering the soap and rinsing away every touch and every kiss. What he couldn’t wash away was the knowledge of what he’d done—something he swore he’d never do again—which was fall back into John’s arms. Even if he’d stopped things before they went too far, he’d let them start in the first place.

  As he scrubbed himself raw, he relived every touch of the man’s hands, body, and mouth at the club tonight, castigating himself for each one.

  Hating himself for enjoying it.

  It wasn’t until he stepped out—skin tender and red—and put on his PJs that he allowed himself to unpack his feelings over what John had said.

  As if anyone else would have you.

  Without me, you are nothing.

  You have nothing.

  He pulled his knees to his chest on his bed, wrapped his arms around them, and rocked gently.

  “You’re wrong,” he whispered. “Wrong.”

  If he believed it, why was his heart breaking? And why couldn’t he put it back together?

  Eyeing the nightstand, he considered the contents inside the drawer. It was only for the worst nights. A last resort.

  But this was one of the worst nights, wasn’t it? One of the worst in a long, long time.

  Chapter FIVE

  Robby

  As Robby walked into the chilly, yellow-lit room, he wrinkled his nose against the burnt scent of coffee sitting on the burner too long. It didn’t stop him from pouring himself a cup, but he knew from experience it would taste as bad as it smelled.

  It didn’t matter. He always needed something to do with his hands when he attended one of these meetings. For some reason, it made him feel a little less exposed.

  Clutching his Styrofoam cup, he shuffled to one of the folding metal chairs laid out in a circle at the center of the room. Lots of chairs to choose from. It looked like a lean night for the N.A. group.

  He recognized Thomas, the guy who ran the meetings, from his sporadic visits over the years and acknowledged him with a nod. The guy looked the same, though his craggy face was a little more weathered, and his receding hairline had moved back another inch or so. He had to be pushing fifty now.

  Thomas offered a sympathetic smile, like he knew what was going on in Robby’s head. But, of course, Robby wouldn’t be here if life were going well.

  Cara, another familiar face, stared down into her lap.

  The other three guys were strangers.

  Thomas cleared his throat. “Hi, everyone. It’s time to get started.” He stood. “My name is Thomas, and I’m an addict.” He paused. “Heroin. I’ve been clean for ten years now, but you guys keep me accountable.”

  He retook his seat and tilted his head at Cara.

  She wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m Cara,” she mumbled. “Not sharing tonight.”

  Damn. The way she held herself didn’t bode well for the older woman. Last time Robby had seen her, she’d been off the pills for years. She was a mom of two teenagers. If she could fall off the wagon, anyone could.

  Robby stood. “My name is Robby, and I’m an addict. I’ve been clean for almost five years. It’s been a while since I needed one of these meetings. But I’m really glad you’re still here.”

  He sipped at the nasty brew in his hand, debating whether to talk about his trip to Nitro. Even at his lowest, sharing the sordid details of his past with John had always been beyond him. It was easier just to talk about the drugs. “I wanted to use tonight. I didn’t.”

  The guys he didn’t know went on to introduce themselves, and he relaxed, falling into their stories. With such a small group, the meeting wrapped quickly, but it gave him the renewed resolve he needed.

  Thomas approached him as he tossed his now empty cup in the trash by the door. “I’m glad to see you’re still fighting the good fight, my friend. You know, you can call me anytime things get tough.”

  Robby had never really been into the sponsor thing. He’d never trusted anyone enough, but he had called Thomas to talk him off the ledge a few times in the first year. “I appreciate it. I’ve still got your number.”

  They walked out together toward the cars parked down the street.

  Two guys stumbled ahead of them, arms linked, into the storefront next door. It was hard to make out many details about the office in the dark, but Robby recognized the pride flag in the window.

  He paused, trying to catch a glimpse inside. “You know this place?”

  Thomas nodded. “It’s a community center for LGBT folks. We’ve had a couple of the kids sit in on our meetings.” He frowned. “Some of them have been through hell, man.”

  Hell. Robby knew it well. “I’m sure.” Shaking his head, he resumed the trek to the car.

  “Have you—do you have a good support network, Robby?” Thomas stopped beside a red Mazda pick-up. “I’ve worried about you.”

  Robby shrugged. “I’ve got people. But none of them who…know. I have a new life now. I don’t want them to know this side of me. I can’t risk losing them.”

  Even the thought of going back to a life without Brick and Kane made his stomach clench. He loved them, and he knew with his whole heart they loved him back.

  “I understand. It can be easier to talk about the hard stuff with strangers. It doesn’t matter what they think but hear me out. You can’t ignore your recovery or your addiction. The system works if you work it. Whether you use me or someone else in your life, just make yourself accountable. You feel me?” Thomas unlocked the door and swung it open but didn’t climb in.

  “I feel you.” Robby held out his hand and Thomas gave him a firm shake. “I’m not going back to the way things were. No way. No how.”

  He’d keep it together, no matter what life threw at him next. It couldn’t be as bad as what he’d already endured.

  ***

  Note to self: Avoid the club scene at all costs.

  Robby scribbled the thought onto the last piece of paper attached to his clipboard, then let the stack of schedules, supply requisitions, and memos drop down to cover it.

  He always kept the old wooden board in his hands on a job site. It helped him stay organized, an essential skill for his role as the foreman’s assistant. But just as importantly, he needed access to those loose-leaf pages of his journal where he could unload the thousand and one feelings sitting on his chest at any given point of a regular day.

  It was vitally important to keep them to himself.
The last thing he needed was for his co-workers to know what a giant dumpster fire he was on the inside.

  “Where did I put those plans?” Usually, he was so meticulous with his papers. Misplacing them was like a sign flashing how far off his game he was after his disastrous night at Nitro. Seeing John had thrown him into a real tailspin. He hadn’t wanted to use so much in he didn’t know how long.

  The idea of going back to the club had seemed so liberating at first. Reclaiming his past or some garbage. Though in truth, loneliness had prompted it more than any big ideal. Now, he felt worse than ever. Scratch that.

  He’d felt worse than ever last night. Today was a little better. The meeting had helped some.

  Hugging the clipboard to his chest, shame over his lapse in judgment warred with pride over the new life he’d built. He had a best friend now, one who would do anything for him. Brick was the perfect example of someone who could have it all, and he exuded a contentment Robby wanted more than his next breath. Jealousy could be an insidious emotion, even though he knew Brick had dealt with his own demons before he found his happy ever after.

  Robby lifted yesterday’s pizza box and looked underneath it. Maybe he could find what he needed if he cleaned up some of this mess. The plans weren’t hiding under the remnants of their Papa Johns.

  “Crap.” Everything felt so scattered. He was supposed to hand those plans over to Brick first thing when his friend arrived.

  Not that Brick would give him a hard time about losing track of them. In the past few months, Brick went from a growly bear with a thorn in his paw to someone who would offer friendship and family to the nobody assistant who everyone thought of as a kid.

  Ha. He was hardly the person they thought he was. Though it would’ve been nice if it were true. He’d lived through things the men on the crew couldn’t even imagine. And he hoped they never did.

  Brick stuck his head into the unfinished kitchen Robby had slipped into and ran a hand over his close-cropped dark hair. A year ago, a big guy like him would make Robby turn in the other direction. On the street, size had been a weapon easily wielded against the weak. Brick was easily six-foot-four and stacked with thick muscles from his years as an underground fighter.