by Rachel Kane
“I’m allergic to Noah’s shirt!”
Noah found himself completely relaxing, to the familiar sounds of his best friends’ squabbling. A sound he’d grown up with. “While you guys discuss Liam’s lacrimal ducts, I’m going upstairs to hang up my new clothes.”
He practically glided up the stairs, like he didn’t need them at all, like maybe he would just rise off the floor and float directly into his room. Dropping his bags, he fell onto his bed. Dalton! What a night. What an incredible night, an incredible man.
The things they’d done together… Noah curled himself up, holding his pillow to his chest. All I had to do was be honest. I didn’t have to be fake, I didn’t have to do any people-pleasing. I was myself, and that was good enough.
That was the strangest thing. How could you be yourself around a man like Dalton Raines? The man had an unimaginably rich lifestyle. He could buy and sell guys like Noah, buy them by the dozen if he wanted! Yet Noah had felt totally at home with him, totally natural.
And soon he’d see him again.
Were there questions in his head? Of course there were. Noah always liked to know where he stood with men, and Dalton was no different in that regard. Was this just a physical relationship to Dalton, or was it the start of something more?
It had better be more, Noah thought. I won’t be anybody’s sex slave. Or…servant. Sex domestic worker. Whatever the term is. I want more than that.
His whole life, men had flitted in and out of his view, never staying very long. They’d claim they wanted to get to know him, but the minute he displeased them in some way, the minute he asked too much, they’d vanish.
Not Dalton. He’s different. He sees the real me…and likes what he sees.
That had to be true, right? Their game of the three guesses, there wasn’t a single one Dalton had gotten wrong. He could see into Noah’s soul.
He knew he had to be careful. At least a little. You couldn’t go all-in, not right away, not after one night together. He’d scare Dalton off, if he acted like they had A Relationship right now. No. There was time to get to know one another better, time to see where things went. He just had to stay cool and be himself.
Be myself! What a novel idea! When has that ever worked?
With all the faking he’d had to do in the past, he should’ve won a Daytime Emmy. Pretending to be interested in the conversation of some bulky gym-bunny who only wanted to talk about his workout routine and creatine supplements. Pretending to be sympathetic to that one guy who had only wanted to cry all night…all night…when Noah hadn’t been in the mood to sleep with him.
A whole history of men who hadn’t cared about the real Noah, who had insisted—even if silently, even if indirectly—that he change himself for them, rather than vice versa.
What if Dalton was the one?
What if Dalton was the first guy who ever liked Noah for Noah? Who didn’t demand changes and being fake?
That would be an amazing thing.
It’s him. I know it’s him.
Last night in the tub, his sweater had been drenched and so uncomfortable, his pants feeling like they’d shrunk several inches even while he was wearing them, he hadn’t cared about the discomfort at all. He’d whispered to Dalton…begging Dalton to fuck him. He’d never done that before. Never felt so much need for someone before. Yes, yes, previous guys had gone after him. Sure. He’d lain there through the pounding and grunting of boys he wasn’t really into, letting his mind wander away, thinking about shopping or TV or wondering what the rest of the world was doing at that exact moment.
This had been different. This had been pure need. No one else would have done. No one else could have fulfilled him the way he’d been fulfilled then. Dalton, stripping the wet clothes off of him, that look of amazement as he got his first real look at Noah’s body. Dalton’s hands, holding and caressing.
And at that one moment, at the moment where he entered Noah, their eyes had locked, and something had passed between them, a true understanding, a recognition. Hey, I know you.
The most honest moment Noah had ever felt.
It wasn’t all serious moods and longing gazes. Dalton was attentive, athletic, utterly used to getting his own way and pleasing himself, and Noah had been pushed, pulled, turned and twisted, going from the tub to the shower to the floor, only making it to the bed an hour later, and even then Dalton wasn’t done with him, not until the bed and floor were scattered with condom wrappers, and both had dropped exhausted into each other’s arms.
Now that was a memory. Noah hugged the pillow tighter, remembering how it had felt to be held by Dalton.
So protected. So safe.
Nothing could come for him, in those arms.
The night must have caught up with him, because without realizing it, he’d fallen into a deep sleep, an afternoon nap his body desperately needed. His dreams were random. Dalton popped in and out of them. His body, though relaxed, did not once let go of that pillow.
When the doorbell rang, it sent a jolt of electricity passing through Noah.
“It’s him!” he said to the empty room. “Oh my god, why didn’t he text me? Or call? Or anything? My hair…my clothes!” Everything was rumpled and wrinkled from his nap.
Dalton won’t care! He’s not going to judge you for that!
Still, a boy likes to look his best. Noah rushed to the mirror to do what he could. Pushed his fingers through his hair, considered the brush, considered some hair paste, but if he just flicked it like so…yes, there. A sleepy, sultry look. Come hither.
The clothes were another matter. You don’t thank someone for buying you new things, by sleeping in them and getting them all messed up. He quickly stripped out of his designer clothes, and put on something simpler, a cherry-red pullover and plum-colored jeans, bright and happy colors. He had some black woven slippers that looked okay with this outfit, and pulled them on. The doorbell rang again. “Coming!” he said, rushing out of his room.
The problem with living in a mansion is that it takes forever to get anywhere. By the time he made it to the stairs, and had wound his way down, the door was already open. No one was there except Judah, who had the doorknob in his hand. His friend looked stunned. He turned to Noah.
“I— That is—” Judah whispered.
“What? Is that Dalton? Where is he?”
Judah shook his head…then glanced toward the entrance to the gallery, off to the left.
Noah felt a sense of confusion and fear at Judah’s expression, and he turned to look at the gallery, trying to prepare himself for what the bad news might be.
His heart did a little slide into his stomach, when he looked that way.
There was a woman by the entrance of the gallery, her hand on one of the pillars leading up the doorway.
By instinct he looked around warily, that old instinct to see if any of his schoolmates were around watching, taunting. Although they never taunted when she was around.
She’d never been around enough, though.
What was she doing here? What did she want?
She finished gazing down the gallery, and turned to face him.
“Noah. You grew up.”
“Hi, Aunt Tina.”
19
Dalton
There had been so many meetings, so many calls, that Dalton felt like his head was rattling, like someone had punched him in the side of the head. Everyone wanted to know the same thing: Is the company stable? Will everything fall apart now? There were only so many ways to remind them that he and Colby had been essentially running the company themselves since Dad’s surgery, and that the retirement didn’t change any of that. In fact, it only clarified things, by making Dalton the permanent head of the company. It didn’t matter. He still had to explain it to every major vendor, every major client, explain it by himself, in his own voice.
What he really wanted to tell them was, I don’t have time for this, there’s a gorgeous man waiting for me out there, and all I want to do is hang up this phone so I
can go take him to bed again.
It had been so hard to be in meetings, looking at projections and forecasts, when all he wanted to do was close his eyes and remember the sight of Noah. Noah under him, Noah on top, Noah snuggled by his side.
God, when had he ever met a man so voracious, but who returned every favor with such speed and delight? He’d never met anyone who enjoyed himself so much. Who dove right in and took every possible pleasure from the moment.
He’d had to stop himself all day, because the last thing the new CEO needs is to spring a hard-on during a board meeting. That would’ve been hard to explain, especially to Colby, who was still sore about Dalton leaving last night. (“I had take-out at my desk, while you were out doing whatever you were doing. I guess some of us just care more about the company.”)
The thing was, he needed to talk to Colby, privately. Not to tell him about his night with Noah—nobody needed to see Colby’s reaction to that news—but to get him up to speed on the new plan for Superbia Springs. He knew Colby was going to fight him on it. And he knew why.
“You’re kidding. You are fucking kidding. Can’t you stick to anything, Dalton?”
They were in Colby’s office. The curtains were pulled, the lights were dim, except for the bright desk lamp that threw Colby’s face into a harsh glow.
“It was a mistake. I thought the house would make a nice gift for Dad, but…” His voice trailed off. He was too tired, too exhausted. How could he put it into words?
He knew he needed to. If Noah had shown him anything, it was that it was okay to have feelings about things, okay to show those feelings. You didn’t have to be the cool, composed CEO all the time.
“Maybe you’re right, Colby. Maybe Dad isn’t going to make it much longer. Okay? So buying him a house is a little ridiculous. Call it a well-intentioned mistake. Trying to be the good son.”
“If you wanted to be the good son, then you’d sit here and run the damned business like he wants, instead of worrying so much about that goddamn house.”
“I said I’m done with it.”
“Are you? Because Astrid called me a little while ago, asking for advice on that grant application.”
“Well, yeah. I’ll tell her to approve it—”
“Seriously?” Colby sounded like he was at the breaking point. Maybe he was. It had been a long couple of days for both of them, and Colby hadn’t had a night of rest and relaxation (not that there had been much resting or relaxing) like Dalton had had with Noah. His brother got up, poured himself a drink. How much had Colby been drinking lately? He needed to go home, get a shower, shave. His collar was in rough shape, his sleeves wrinkled from being rolled up and back down.
Dalton stared at him. “Seriously. You have a problem with that?”
“So you’re not going to buy the place, you’re just going to give our money away? We’re back to that again?”
“You’re the one forcing us to have the same conversation again. Yes, we’re back to the grant, to the whole reason the foundation was set up.”
Colby threw back his drink and slammed the glass down. “You’re crazy. You’re just insane. What hold do these rednecks have on you? It’s that little one, isn’t it? The twink. Tell me you haven’t been talking to him.”
Dalton was surprised by the anger that rose up in him, at Colby’s tone when he talked about him. “Noah has nothing to do with this.”
“Oh, it’s a first-name basis, is it? God, Dalton, you’re so transparent. Is this all so you can get in a guy’s pants? You’re making my life miserable just so you can get laid?”
“You better pour me one of those, if you’re going to stand there and say I’m making you miserable.”
“So you admit it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He felt a pang of guilt saying that. What he really wanted to do was fight. Argue. Demand that Colby accept Noah.
Why?
Why did that matter?
But this was the new Dalton. He shouldn’t have to question why it mattered. It mattered because it felt like it did, and this was part of admitting your feelings.
Colby brought him a drink, and slumped behind his desk. “Fuck, Dalton. I could hire you a boy, if that’s all you need. There are services, nice discreet ones—”
“Yeah, no.”
Why am I here? Why can’t I be driving back down there, going to see Noah again?
What’s so important about a billion-dollar business?
That was selfish, though. What was so important, was that it was the family business. Thousands of people counting on him, all across the globe, and he couldn’t drop those responsibilities just because his heart was fluttering every time he thought about Noah.
If I’m busy admitting all my feelings, then I can admit feeling selfish too.
“You’re seeing him,” said Colby. “That’s where you were last night.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You’re talking to me like we’re on the record, at a deposition. Don’t. I’m your brother. If you’re doing something with your personal life that’s going to affect the business, you have to tell me.”
“How does anything about my personal life affect the business?”
“Oh, I don’t know, the fact that you’ve got stars in your eyes, and so you’re going to give away huge sums of our money to some skinny kid who looks more like—”
“Careful how you finish that sentence.”
Colby sat back, a sort of exhausted triumph playing over his features. “My god. It’s true. You ditched work for a boy. What the hell has this world come to? I used to look up to you, Dalton. Do you understand that? I used to think you were the most important guy in the world, after Dad. Now look at you. You need to get your head on straight. We’re in a tough time. A crisis. You can’t lead this company if you’re busy chasing tail.”
“That’s not what I’m doing. Not at all.” It was time to be honest. Honesty was the whole thing, wasn’t it? It’s the thing that had sparked whatever was happening between him and Noah. “I think… I think there’s something special happening between me and Noah, Colby. I don’t want to jinx it. I don’t want to overstate it. But yes, I was with him last night. He does something to me—”
“I’m sure he does.”
“Not like that. But this is the first time I’ve felt…” He paused, looked down into the depths of his drink, the dark amber. “This is the first time I’ve felt anything, in a long time. I think after Dad, I just shut down emotionally. Had to keep a good face on, you know, that stupid optimism business forces on you, because you don’t want the stock price to drop.”
Colby’s mouth had opened about halfway through that comment. “Jesus, it’s worse than I thought.”
“What?”
“I thought you were just having a little bit of fun. Just a distraction—and one we can’t afford right now. But you have feelings for him. God, Dalton, you can’t have feelings for him. Not him, not now. What are you doing to me?”
“Gosh, Colbs, I’m sorry I didn’t ask your permission first.”
“You know what I’m talking about!”
“No, I don’t. Maybe you need to spell it out, because none of this sounds like any of your business.”
“Fine.” Colby lifted his fingers, and began counting off his points. “First: You’re in the middle of the biggest sale of your career. Second: You’ve just taken over the company, and have to soothe the worries of all the millions of people who freak out any time there’s news. Third: Dad is upstairs dying—no, don’t argue with me, you know it as well as I do. Fourth: You act like the grant application is no big deal, even though without that goddamn town council sign-off, you’re just going to pour our money into an endless hole, starting a project that they can shut down at any moment. And you know what? Normally I wouldn’t care. But it’s the fact that you won’t see it. The fact that you don’t seem to mind the waste, that gets to me.”
He had pulle
d down each finger with his points, and now only his thumb remained raised. He put his other index finger on it, and pulled it down. “Fifth. How the hell do you think this is going to look, Dalton? When it comes out—and you know it’ll come out—that you’re dating this guy? This…this nobody? People are going to question your judgment. They’re going to ask why Superbia Springs got this big money—is it because it’s a valid project, or because it’s your boyfriend’s project? And if you’re making that kind of emotional decision, what other emotional decisions will you make? Will you wreck the company on a whim? Will you turn us away from robotics onto, I don’t know, basket-weaving or something? How can you do this, knowing what people will say?”
“Because I don’t care what people will say.”
“Yes, you do. Because business is about people. Our entire lives are about convincing people they can trust us. About proving they can trust us.”
Why was his heart beating so fast? He brought his glass to his lips again. Maybe he needed more alcohol to calm things down. It was like his whole body was tensed for a fight. But he didn’t want to fight. He wanted to escape, to get out of here, to get back into Noah’s arms.
To leave the company, and all its complications.
To leave the company.
The thought was so appalling, so alien to him, that he backed away from it immediately, like discovering in oneself some dark fetish that could not be admitted in the light of day.
I can’t leave the company. No. Why would I even think that? That’s foolish.
He had to tamp it all down. All of it, right now. What had he been thinking, exposing his true feelings in front of Colby? That was always a mistake. Colby hardly had any feelings at all, other than competitiveness, greed, and a certain flair for finding distressed companies that needed taking over. You could reason with him, but you couldn’t appeal to his better side; there wasn’t one.
His whole life, never once had Dalton introduced one of his boyfriends to Colby.
Was that strange? It had always made perfect sense. “When am I going to meet this brother of yours?” someone would ask, and he’d just shake his head and say, “Trust me, that isn’t something you want to happen.”