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…Dylan did a slow grind against Bastian’s groin with his own throbbing dick. “I’m exactly the man you need,” he said, his voice hoarse with desire as Sebastian ground back. “I’ll give you anything and everything you need, baby. Right here, right now. You want?” “God, yes…” Sebastian’s long fingers snagged the hem of Dylan’s T-shirt and pulled it up over his head. Then he yanked at Dylan’s belt buckle, and worked at freeing him from his jeans, while Dylan’s hands did the same to him. Their motions were urgent, their kisses desperate. Finally, Sebastian’s slacks and briefs slid down his long, muscular legs. He toed off his shoes and kicked his pants aside, all while helping Dylan lose his jeans and the black boxer-briefs he wore. Dylan’s stiff cock sprang free and brushed against Bastian’s. Dylan sucked in a breath at the contact. Then, before Dylan could even gather a thought, Sebastian dropped to his knees on the floor in front of him and, in a swift, breath-stealing motion, closed his mouth over Dylan’s cock and sucked it in to the root. Dylan gasped. “Oh…fuck! Fuck…” Christ, the man had a mouth like a god…hot, wet, sucking perfection. Sebastian gazed up at him from beneath long, dark eyelashes and gave him a look that was pure, unadulterated heat. A look that promised everything Dylan wanted and more…
ALSO BY M. L. RHODES After Hours Always The Bodyguard The Bounty Hunter Couplings The Draegan Lords Falling Hearts & Bones Heat Lords Of Kellesborne Magic Masks Never Let Go Night Shadows Out Of My Mind The Professor’s Secret Passion Souls Deep Take It On Faith True Of Heart Under My Skin Vertigo Well Hung
UNDER MY SKIN II BY M. L. RHODES
AMBER Q UILL PRESS, LLC http://www.AmberQuill.com
UNDER MY SKIN II AN AMBER QUILL PRESS BOOK This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.AmberQuill.com All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review. Copyright © 2008 by M. L. Rhodes ISBN 978-1-60272-294-1 Cover Art © 2008 Trace Edward Zaber
Layout and Formatting provided by: Elemental Alchemy
PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
This one’s for Mike, my hero. And for Catherine, whom I appreciate more than she could possibly know!
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CHAPTER 1 As Sebastian Keller held open the door of his store, Great Escapes Travel Book Shop, for his departing customer, the June afternoon’s heat and humidity slammed into him, clashing with the swirl of air-conditioned coolness that wafted from inside. “It’s another dad-blamed scorcher today,” the elderly, heavyset gentleman wheezed. “I’m going to have to go all the way to Scotland to get cooler weather.” “No kidding. Could you please send some back here to St. Louis when you get there?” “Pears? No thanks. I’m not much of a pear eater,” the old man said. “Prefer apples myself.” 1
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Pears? Sebastian bit back a grin. Mr. Palchesky had forgotten his hearing aide again. But before he could repeat what he’d said, Mr. P asked, “Now where’s that Kelvy-whatsit place again?” “It’s in Glasgow,” Sebastian told him. The gray head turned, an eyebrow rose, and rheumy eyes squinted at him through streaked bifocals. “Costco? They have Costco in Scotland? Why in the world would an art gallery be inside a Costco?” Still fighting not to smile, Sebastian said in a louder tone, “No, Mr. Palchesky…not Costco. Glasgow. The Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum is in Glasgow.” When the man continued to peer at him, still obviously not following him, Sebastian added even more loudly, “The city.” “Ah, Glasgow! Why didn’t you say so the first time, son?” Now Sebastian did grin—couldn’t help it—but he managed to wipe it away before Mr. P looked up at him again. “You’re right,” he told the old man in all seriousness, “I should have.” “We’re going to Glasgow on the third day of our tour.” Mr. Palchesky pulled off his glasses and cleaned them with a rumpled handkerchief, then shoved them back onto his face with one hand while he stuffed the square of cloth into his pants pocket with the other. “Violet’s all worked up over the good shopping spots. You know how she is. She’ll be buying trinkets for all the kids and grandkids every confounded place we stop. That’s why she sent me out to pick up some more books from you today—ones with maps, so she can plan her 2
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attack.” “I expect she’ll come home with lots of treasures.” “Lord have mercy! What would she do with leathers? Well, I’d best be heading home. Thanks again, young man.” “You’re very welcome, Mr. Palchesky,” Sebastian said, laughing softly. “Give Mrs. Palchesky my love.” “Yes, I will.” He turned and raised his hand in a wave over his shoulder, then shuffled toward his Buick Lucerne parked in front of the store at the strip mall where Sebastian’s shop was located. Sebastian’s best friend, Joanie Bevins, exited her bakery next door to Sebastian’s store, chocolate-cake-laden plate in hand. With her curly black hair pulled back in a ponytail and petite café au lait pixie face, she looked closer to sixteen than thirty-one. “Mr. Palchesky again?” she asked, watching the man back out of the parking space. “When are he and his wife leaving on their trip? He’s been in a couple of times a week for two months now!” “They leave this coming weekend, so this will probably be his last visit for a while.” Joanie grinned. “They’ve spent so much money on books about Scotland, are they going to have any funds left to actually go to Scotland?” Sebastian chuckled. “They’re like this every year before their annual summer trip, no matter where they go. So…” He eyed the thick slice of cake she held. “Is that for me?” He reached out a finger to swipe a bit of coconut pecan frosting off the edge of the plate. 3
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Joanie slapped his hand before he could touch it. “No, it is not,” she said, still grinning. “It’s for Beau. He loves my German chocolate cake, and I just baked this fresh.” Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Beau again? Once upon a time I was the recipient of your daily baked goods…but I guess I just don’t rate anymore. Ever since Beauregard Butler started working on the other side of me a few weeks ago,” he teased. Joanie’s lips twitched in that funny little way they did when she was embarrassed. But her dark eyes sparkled. “Don’t start. He likes my cake. That’s all. And I just made you cherry Danish on…well, one day last week.” “Mm-hmm,” Sebastian said with a knowing smile. “What I find fascinating is that this is, what? The fourth or fifth time you’ve made German chocolate cake in the past week? Let’s see…” He ticked off on his fingers, “Last Tuesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and again today…another Tuesday. You never used to make it that often.” “It’s just cake!” “Sure. Just cake.” “Oh, shut up, Bastian!” She shoved him good-naturedly in the arm. “Okay, so maybe I do make it more often because I know Beau likes it. There’s nothing wrong with being friendly with our neighboring shopkeepers.” “Oh, yeah…friendly. You’re so busted. I’ve seen the way you look at the guy, so don’t even pretend you’re going over to Rad Tattoos for innocent cake delivery.” Joanie flipped him the bird. Then she grinned again. “Fine, you want the unvarnished truth? You’re not the only one 4
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who’s allowed to find one of our resident tattoo artists hot as hell and sexy as sin. The way you and Dylan look at each other is enough to give all the rest of us here in the mall wet dreams for a month! So stow it. If I want to bring Dylan’s new artist cake and have myself a long, slow ogle of his big, hard body, I’m allowed.” At her mention of Dylan, Sebastian’s blood pumped fast and hot, like liquid fire, through his veins. Dylan Radamacher, the owner of Rad Tattoos and, a few months ago, the star of most of Sebastian’s wet dreams— though at the time he’d been loath to admit it since he’d been convinced Dylan was in no way his type. He’d done his damnedest not to like Dylan and hold the man at bay. Bookish “smart guy” geeks like Sebastian weren’t made to mix with hunky, tattooed bad boys like Dylan. But Dylan had taken all Sebastian’s stereotypes and turned them upside down. He’d proven to be nothing like Sebastian’s asshole ex-boyfriend, which was what Sebastian had feared. Now, Sebastian didn’t have to dream about Dylan—wet or otherwise. He had the real deal. The past eight weeks had been probably the best of Sebastian’s life. And it wasn’t just because of the sex. For the first time ever, Sebastian had discovered what it was like to be real friends with a lover. To enjoy spending time with someone out of the bedroom just as much as in it. Although…damn, he couldn’t deny the sex was spectacular. Far more so than he’d ever fantasized it would be. He remembered how Dylan had looked just this morning, 5
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his spiky dark hair tousled, his body spread out beneath Sebastian, already golden from an early summer tan, and every sculpted muscle of his tattooed shoulders, back, and ass flexing and glowing in the early morning light filtering through the sheers in Dylan’s bedroom. He remembered the tight heat of Dylan’s body squeezing his cock as he drove into him again and again, remembered the intoxicating scents of their desire swirling through his senses, the low, desperate moans Dylan made, and the heat and slickness of their bodies moving together. And then those passion-filled hazel eyes had scorched into him as Dylan turned his head and looked back at him when they came. Sebastian had to drag in a deep breath to control the desire rising in him again just from the memory. “Hello! See what I mean?” Joanie said, her eyes twinkling. “You almost forgot I was standing here. You can’t even think about him without getting that orgasmic look on your face. Now who’s busted?” Sebastian could feel the heat in his cheeks, embarrassing him all the more. Damn, why did he do that? He was almost thirty years old and he still blushed like a kid sometimes. “Wanna come ogle with me?” Joanie invited. “You can savor the sight of your man while I savor mine…or at least ‘in my dreams’ mine?” He was tempted. He knew Dylan had a client this afternoon—he’d been fully booked all day, without even a lunch break—and Sebastian could picture him in the tight black T-shirt and soft faded blue jeans he’d put on this 6
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morning, bent over a client, with the tattoo machine in his black-gloved hand. He’d be looking so very hot right about now. But a blue sedan pulled up in the parking spot vacated by Mr. Palchesky, and Sebastian recognized the driver as one of the travel agents he often worked with. The agent had a corporate account with Sebastian’s store and bought all the agency’s travel guides through him. “You don’t know how much I’d love to,” Sebastian told Joanie, “but duty calls.” He nodded toward the sedan. “Steve Sellers. He’d planned to come this morning but called to say he’d had an emergency, so he rescheduled for this afternoon.” Joanie looked over her shoulder. “Bummer. Want me to blow Dylan a kiss for you?” Sebastian laughed. “Yeah, you do that. Tell him I’ll see him after work.” Joanie wiggled her fingers goodbye and, with a last grin at him, went into Rad Tattoos. Sebastian turned to greet his customer. “Hey, Steve. How’s it going?” The short, prematurely balding man rolled his eyes as he reached out to shake Sebastian’s hand. “You wouldn’t believe the night and day I’ve had. You want to know why I had to cancel this morning? My car got stolen! My wife and I were at the mall last night, came out, and the car wasn’t there. Just plain gone.” He sounded as harried as he looked. “I wondered why you were driving this.” Sebastian pointed at the generic-looking sedan. “Last time you were 7
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here, weren’t you driving a white Honda?” “Yep. This is a rental until the insurance company can get it all sorted out. I had to cancel all my appointments this morning to deal with insurance, pick up the rental, and all the other paperwork.” “Geez, I’m sorry to hear that. It must be a bizarre feeling, to go to where you left your car and it’s not there.” “You have no idea. The cops said they’ve been having a rash of car thefts in the area the past few weeks and everyone should take extra care to be sure their cars are locked and they park in well-lit spots.” Steve snorted. “Not that it did us any good last night. Our car was locked, and just a few spaces down from one of the parking lot lights.” He shook his head. “Anyway, just be careful when you’re out and about. Although…you don’t use your car much in the summer, do you? You ride your bicycle to work.” “Yeah, as much as I can. Whenever I think the weather’s going to cooperate.” Sebastian had been an avid cyclist since college, and tried to get as much road time as he could in the spring, summer, and fall. Although, this summer had been a bitch with the thunderstorms. They were the norm during St. Louis summers, building in the late afternoons and evenings, but this year, maybe because it had been so excruciatingly hot, the storms had been more intense than usual. As he held the door open for Steve to enter Great Escapes and pointed him down the row of shelving toward the series of books Steve wanted to find, Sebastian looked back over his shoulder and noticed big black thunderheads already building 8
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on the horizon. Damn, he hoped whatever they held didn’t cause Dylan any problems on his drive to southern Missouri tonight. At that reminder, a heavy lump settled in the pit of Sebastian’s stomach as it had frequently the past few days. He’d told Joanie to give Dylan the message he’d see him after work, and he would. But only for a few minutes. And then Dylan was leaving for ten long days, heading back to Poplar Bluff where he’d grown up. Ten days apart. Sebastian hated that it was bothering him so much. He understood, and supported, why Dylan was going—to be there with his mom while she had some tests done at the hospital. Dylan’s dad had taken off when he was a baby and Dylan and his mom were very close. She’d always had problems with her heart and Dylan worried about her. Sebastian knew all that and loved Dylan all the more for being so caring and concerned. He wanted him to be there with his mom. And yet…anxiety about Dylan’s trip still hovered over Sebastian like one of the storm clouds outside. Stop being so damned insecure! That’s exactly what this is, and you know it. He was insecure, and he hated feeling this way, hated that he couldn’t just use mind over matter and put it to rest. He’d tried. God knows he’d tried. And yet all the old crap from his past, especially what had happened with Beck, his ex, still lingered. When they split, Beck had wanted him to feel shitty about himself, to feel like he wasn’t worthy, and a part of him 9
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still found himself fighting those old, hurtful memories. He knew in his heart Dylan was nothing like Beck. And yet he couldn’t stop the nagging voice deep inside him that kept saying, “What if…” What if after ten days apart Dylan realized he was happier away from Sebastian? What if Dylan met someone else while he was gone? Or what if he hooked up with someone from his past, someone he’d grown up with, or an old lover? What if Dylan’s mom didn’t approve of their relationship and she pressured Dylan to back off from Sebastian? The list went on and on. Sebastian couldn’t even pretend all his thoughts were rational because he knew they weren’t. Once the little voice of worry in his head got on a roll, it traveled downhill faster and faster, picking up more craziness along the way, until he began to doubt everything. And, damn it, he shouldn’t let it happen because Dylan had never given him any overt reason to doubt he cared. He was a genuine friend, a giving, tender lover—everything Sebastian could want in a man. But he can’t say the words. Sebastian’s chest gave a painful squeeze. He tried to ignore it, breathe through it, but didn’t succeed. They’d been together two months. In the grand scheme, that wasn’t long, so he knew he couldn’t fault Dylan for not wanting to rush things. Good God, he himself was the poster child for being cautious because of his own past. But during the last two months, they’d been together almost constantly— they saw each other every day, both at work and away from it, 10
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spent every weekend together, and also slept together more nights than they did apart. What he felt for Dylan was so far beyond anything he’d ever experienced in his life that it scared the crap out of Sebastian. At the same time, though, he couldn’t deny it. He was in love with Dylan. But the two times he’d said it aloud in what, for him, had been emotional moments, Dylan had remained silent. After the last time, Sebastian had sealed his feelings up tight and kept them to himself. Dylan’s lack of response had sliced deep, creating a pain Sebastian couldn’t seem to heal from. He tried to carry on and accept what Dylan was willing to offer. How could he do otherwise when he had his own baggage that hadn’t exactly always made their relationship easy sailing. He just had to hope Dylan’s reticence was because it was still early in their relationship and Dylan wanted to take it slow. Yet he couldn’t shake the fear that maybe Dylan didn’t say it because he just didn’t care about Sebastian as much as Sebastian cared about him.
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CHAPTER 2 Dylan slipped through the door of Great Escapes Travel Book Shop exactly at six o’clock. Sebastian looked over at him when the bell atop the door jingled, announcing his arrival, and gave Dylan a sweet, sexy, welcoming smile that not only curved his full, sensual mouth, but shone from his eyes as well. He didn’t say anything, since he was busy with customers—a family of five stood gathered at the counter—but he didn’t have to. His eyes and that smile conveyed it all, and made Dylan anxious for the moment the family would leave and he could be alone with his lover. It had been a long day for a Tuesday, and although his tattoo studio was right next door, he hadn’t seen Sebastian all 12
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day because he’d been so swamped. And Sebastian, presumably, had been also. Summer was Great Escapes’ busiest season. Dylan’s own business certainly wasn’t hurting. He’d hired Beau Butler, an old friend and excellent tattoo artist, a month ago to help with the workload, and now it seemed like the number of Rad Tattoos clients had increased yet again, since he and Beau were both booked solid most days. Dylan wasn’t complaining that business was great, though. He’d worked hard for seven years to build his shop up to this point. As he waited for Sebastian to finish, he leaned against an out of the way bookshelf that gave him a good view of the man who’d so quickly become the center of his days and nights. Sebastian was ringing up the family’s selections—from a quick glimpse of their books, it looked like they were planning a Florida vacation sometime soon. In spite of the fact it was closing time, Sebastian took time to chat with them, making recommendations about this and that, and laughing when they shared a story with him. He was so damn good with his customers, and knowledgeable about every travel destination imaginable. It was almost scary sometimes just how knowledgeable…the man either had a photographic memory or a mind like a steel trap. Or maybe both. Plus, he’d actually been to a good number of the places his customers traveled. He’d grown up traveling every summer with his mom, stepdad, and younger step-sisters, and when he’d finished college, he’d roamed across the world for several months by himself. 13
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He’d been places and seen things Dylan had only ever read about or imagined. Sebastian was damned smart, but he wasn’t some library geek. He’d actually been out and experienced the world, and that experience bled over into his business. Yet he never came across as full-of-himself or snotty about it. His customers adored him and were shockingly loyal when they could easily go down to the book superstore or order their travel books online for less. Instead, they kept coming back and told all their friends, who told all their friends. The travel agents in St. Louis did the same, sending their clients to him. But Sebastian never once gloated over any of it, or took it for granted. He was, in fact, one of the most modest people Dylan had ever met. Modest, yet sexy as hell…an incredibly hot combination. Oddly enough, it was something Sebastian didn’t recognize about himself. He genuinely had no clue just how much power he wielded, no clue how attractive men and women alike found him. With his clean-cut, all-American good looks, athletic build, alluring brown eyes that displayed a wealth of emotion, and that sensuous mouth that made Dylan crazy just thinking about it, he could have any of them falling at his feet if he half tried—but even when they did, Sebastian was oblivious to it. Which only made him even more attractive. Over and over he’d blow Dylan’s mind in bed with his innate and potent sensuality, then afterward he’d look at Dylan with one of those vulnerable smiles that completely belied his power. Every time it happened, Dylan fell a little harder and a 14
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little farther for him. Sebastian Keller did things to his insides that he’d never experienced before, with any lover. Just looking at him caused a slow burn of heat through his veins, and an odd, breathless sensation in Dylan’s chest. But it was even more than that. No other lover Dylan had ever had, had tempted him to break his long-standing vow not to get serious and long-term with anyone. No one else had ever made him crave the “after” until Sebastian—the snuggling and talking after sex, the waking up next to him the morning after. It had been like that from the start, but was becoming more profound the longer they were together. They spent most nights together now. Probably four or five nights a week, either at Dylan’s house or Sebastian’s townhome. And still it wasn’t enough for Dylan. Dylan had always enjoyed his privacy and the freedom to decide whether he wanted to have company or be alone any given day or night. But for the first time ever, he frequently found himself wondering what it’d be like to share his life twenty-four/seven with someone. With Sebastian. He hadn’t mentioned it to Sebastian, though, because he didn’t want to do anything to scare him off. Even after two months, there were still times Bastian acted like he was afraid Dylan might change his mind about them and break it off at any time. Dylan tried not to take it personally. That fucker, Beck, Sebastian’s ex, had done a real number on him and had shaken not only Bastian’s self-confidence, but also his trust. So, from the beginning, Dylan had vowed to take things slow 15
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for Sebastian’s sake. He wanted to give Sebastian time to really trust him. It was hard, though, at times, when he couldn’t get enough of the man. Sebastian had burrowed under his skin so deeply, Dylan wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to get enough of him. The next week and a half were going to be hell. Dylan missed him already and he hadn’t even left yet. The family finally finished and Sebastian followed them to the door, where he locked up behind them, then flipped the black and white sign on the door to “Closed.” He turned to face Dylan and smiled. But this smile, unlike the first when Dylan had come in, was laced with a hint of sadness, and so much of that heart-tugging vulnerability an overwhelming protectiveness welled up within Dylan, blotting out everything except a powerful need to take away the pain in Sebastian’s gaze. “Hi,” Sebastian said. “Hi.” He met Bastian halfway, wrapped his fingers through his and pulled him through the store and into the back room. He shut the door, pressed Sebastian back against the wall, and covered his mouth in a long, clinging kiss that brought their bodies flush against one another, had their hands seeking and claiming, and their tongues curling in seductive worship. “God, I’ve been thinking about you all day,” Dylan groaned against Sebastian’s neck when they came up for air. He breathed in Bastian’s scent—a heady mix of his own unique smell, and the lingering, low-key notes of spice and 16
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sandalwood from his cologne. He wrapped a hand around the back of Sebastian’s head, buried his fingers in the short, soft strands of light brown, and pulled him back into another openmouthed kiss. When they parted for air again, Sebastian said, “I’ve been thinking about you all day, too. I kept remembering this morning.” “Ah, God…” Dylan ground his groin against Sebastian’s. He wasn’t surprised to find Sebastian as hard as he was. “Me, too. Do you know how much I love waking up with you?” “You do?” Sebastian asked, once again wrenching Dylan’s heart with this little glimpse of his uncertainty. “I do. I think it was pretty obvious, wasn’t it?” Sebastian’s lips curved into a soft smile. “Yeah, it kind of was.” “Kind of? I woke up with your lips around my cock. And it just kept getting better and better from there.” “I couldn’t help myself. You’re too tempting.” “So are you, babe. Trust me…so are you.” Dylan reached down to tug Sebastian’s crisp, white buttondown shirt free from his gray dress slacks. He loved the way Sebastian dressed for work—always professional and pulled together, even in the heat of summer. Even when he rode his bike to work and carried his work clothes in his backpack, they managed to come out of it and hug his body like he’d just stepped off the page of a men’s fashion magazine. Yet another detail about the man Dylan found incredibly sexy. And Bastian was even sexier with his lips red and swollen from 17
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their kisses, his usually neat hair rumpled from Dylan’s fingers, and his warm brown eyes glazing over with the comehither look that said Sebastian was more than a little turnedon. “Are you seducing me in my storeroom?” Sebastian asked, his voice husky. “Oh, yeah.” Dylan’s nimble fingers quickly worked free the buttons on Sebastian’s shirt and spread it open, giving his hands free access to explore the solid planes of Bastian’s chest. He already knew every ridge and hollow by heart, and yet he never tired of touching him, of watching Sebastian’s eyelids flicker closed, then open again when he skimmed over the flat nubs of his nipples nestled in the dusting of dark chest hair, or of hearing the hitch of Sebastian’s breath when he scraped his fingernails down his flat abs to the waistband of his pants. “I think you need more seduction in your life,” Dylan murmured, capturing Bastian’s mouth again…his sexy, kissable, bitable, lickable mouth. He caught the lower lip between his teeth and nipped, then sucked on it, then teased the tip of his tongue over it. At the same time, he tweaked one of Bastian’s nipples between the thumb and forefinger of one hand, while the other brushed lightly over the skin along the waistband of his pants. Sebastian hissed in a breath, and his eyes darkened. “And you think you’re the man to do it?” “I know I am.” Dylan did a slow grind against Bastian’s groin with his own throbbing dick. “I’m exactly the man you 18
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need,” he said, his voice hoarse with desire as Sebastian ground back. “I’ll give you anything and everything you need, baby. Right here, right now. You want?” “God, yes…” Sebastian’s long fingers snagged the hem of Dylan’s T-shirt and pulled it up over his head. Then he yanked at Dylan’s belt buckle, and worked at freeing him from his jeans, while Dylan’s hands did the same to him. Their motions were urgent, their kisses desperate. Finally, Sebastian’s slacks and briefs slid down his long, muscular legs. He toed off his shoes and kicked his pants aside, all while helping Dylan lose his jeans and the black boxer-briefs he wore. Dylan’s stiff cock sprang free and brushed against Bastian’s. Dylan sucked in a breath at the contact. Then, before Dylan could even gather a thought, Sebastian dropped to his knees on the floor in front of him and, in a swift, breath-stealing motion, closed his mouth over Dylan’s cock and sucked it in to the root. Dylan gasped. “Oh…fuck! Fuck…” Christ, the man had a mouth like a god…hot, wet, sucking perfection. Sebastian gazed up at him from beneath long, dark eyelashes and gave him a look that was pure, unadulterated heat. A look that promised everything Dylan wanted and more…and just like that, Sebastian had become the seducer. Dylan’s heart pounded in response. Bastian had spoiled him for anyone else. No one could ever compare. He didn’t want anyone else to compare. Didn’t want anyone else period. 19
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Ever again. Only Sebastian. As Bastian licked and sucked, teased and swallowed, his mouth moving up and down Dylan’s shaft, Dylan watched, rapt. Poetry in motion. He couldn’t have torn his gaze from the sight if he’d tried. With his lips parted and Dylan’s thick cock filling his mouth, Sebastian was fucking beautiful. Dylan told him so, and the faint flush of red that crept up his cheeks only made him look that much more gorgeous. Sebastian released Dylan’s dick and his mouth moved lower, to tongue Dylan’s balls. Then he held them aside and his tongue slid lower still. Dylan spread his legs, giving him easier access. When that probing, delicious tongue flicked over his hole, Dylan gave a slow, deep shudder. His eyes closed and he let his head fall back. He threaded his fingers into Sebastian’s hair and groaned as the wet exploration continued, now delving into him, then back to lick over his nuts, then back to his opening with a warm, wet flutter. Everything in Dylan vibrated…wanting, needing more. As if Sebastian were reading his mind, Bastian’s mouth was suddenly back on Dylan’s dick, licking it like a stick of candy, then engulfing it to the base again. And at the same time, a hot, insistent finger pressed into him. Dylan’s hips bucked, but Sebastian held him in place, probing deeper, deeper in his ass, and swallowing around his cock, pulling it farther into the depths of his throat. “Oh, shit. Bastian…” Sebastian began to move, bobbing his head up and down on Dylan’s dick, and now pumping two fingers into him, 20
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angling them so he pressed lightly against his sweet spot on each outward stroke. “Just like that. Yeah…oh, yeah.” A buzz built in his balls, tightening them, making his cock throb. His fingertips dug into Sebastian’s scalp as he thrust his hips and fucked Sebastian’s mouth. That amazing mouth. Sebastian suddenly grabbed his hips and pulled away. Dylan moaned a protest, and looked down at him with glazed eyes, his heart racing, his body on edge and so damned close to orgasm he struggled to breathe. But when Sebastian stood, cupped Dylan’s face, kissed him deeply, allowing Dylan to taste himself in the depths of Sebastian’s mouth, then leaned back to look into Dylan’s face, a tremor rocked through him at the intensity of Sebastian’s expression. “Fuck me,” Sebastian said in a low, deep tone that made Dylan’s blood surge even hotter. “I want you inside me.” The thought of burying his needy, agonized prick in the tight, welcoming heat of Sebastian’s body made him so dizzy, for a split second Dylan thought he might fall. Sebastian leaned down and picked up something from the floor where their pants lay scattered. Then, following a ripping noise, he was rolling a pre-lubed condom down over Dylan’s cock. Dylan winced at the contact on his over-sensitized organ, but Sebastian was swift and gentle. “I want it hard and deep. Don’t hold back.” “Christ…” Raw desire spiked in Dylan, blotting out everything but the potent drive to fill Sebastian and claim him. 21
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A sturdy, old-fashioned oak library table stood in the center of the room. Sebastian used it to sort books when shipments came in, and to package books he shipped out to customers. Dylan turned Sebastian around and backed him against it. He reached out to swipe away a stack of papers, then pressed Bastian down onto the surface on his back, with his legs dangling over the edge. The sight of his long, lean, beautiful body stretched out on the table wearing nothing but his unbuttoned white shirt, an Egyptian tattoo inked on his hip, and gray dress socks stole Dylan’s breath. Could the man possibly get any sexier? Mine, he thought. He’s mine. How did I ever get so lucky? He moved between Sebastian’s spread legs and lifted them, pulling Sebastian more toward him, until his ass was at the edge of the table. “Need you,” Sebastian rasped. “Need you, too.” And, damn, how he did. He pressed Bastian’s legs back, bent over, and licked into him. Sebastian dragged in a slow, shaking breath and released it even more slowly, the last of it dissolving into a moan as Dylan circled his hole over and over, thrust his tongue deep, circled, plunged. “Oh, my God,” Sebastian gasped. His hands, Dylan noted, clutched the edges of the table, his fingers flexing and releasing. “Oh…my…G-God.” Without any further delay, Dylan rose, held Sebastian’s hip with one hand, and guided the tip of his dick to his slick, 22
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quivering opening with the other. When he pressed into the tight ring of muscle, Sebastian’s eyes closed, his breath hitched, and he moaned again. Then his eyelids fluttered open and he grasped Dylan’s forearms. “Hard and deep, Dylan,” he said again. Dylan needed no further encouragement. He pushed in, letting Bastian’s hot, squeezing passage engulf him until his balls nestled against Sebastian’s ass. “Oh, God,” Sebastian moaned, trembling beneath him. Dylan leaned down into him and kissed him, wanting to taste some of that breathless pleasure and see if it was as sweet as the pressure enveloping his cock. It was. In some ways better even, because when Sebastian kissed him back, it was so filled with hungry emotion, it vibrated through his whole body like a tuning fork, and Dylan felt it in his very core. He pulled out almost to the tip, then pushed in again, savoring the way Bastian’s body welcomed him back, eager and trembling. “You feel so damn good,” he groaned. “You always do.” He withdrew, then thrust again, harder this time. Sebastian grunted, and tightened his grip on Dylan’s arms. “Harder.” With each thrust, Dylan’s thinking became more and more clouded, until the hedonistic part of his brain took over and all that mattered was the pleasure. Bastian’s. His. The thrill of their bodies moving together, merged together. Their speech dissolved into breathless groans and soft cries. Sebastian’s scent, now blended with the musky tang of 23
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their combined desire, filled Dylan’s head, intoxicating him even more. Dylan curled his fingers around Sebastian’s hard, bobbing cock, and stripped it in quick, firm strokes, in rhythm with their fucking. They came together, thrusting and grinding and spewing their release. Dylan quickly pulled out of Sebastian, freed himself of the condom, and milked the last of his seed by hand onto Sebastian’s cock and abdomen, taking a primitive satisfaction in marking him and watching his cum mix with the rivulets of Sebastian’s. It wasn’t until then he realized his hands were shaking. Sebastian was shaking also. And even now, Dylan felt like he couldn’t get enough. With the tip of his dick, he painted their cum over Sebastian’s abs until the taut skin and the line of dark hair that started at Sebastian’s navel and trailed down into the damp curls at the base of his long cock glistened. “So damned beautiful.” He looked up and held Sebastian’s gaze, then leaned down over him and captured his parted lips, savoring the taste of himself and Sebastian as their flavors merged. He drew out the kiss, not wanting to let this moment go. But eventually their spent seed grew sticky. He lifted his head and smoothed a hand over Bastian’s hair. “Let me go get something to clean us up.” He rose and went into the bathroom, where he wet several paper towels in warm water. When he returned to the table, he 24
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used them to clean Sebastian and himself, then tossed them into the trashcan nearby. Sebastian sat up, his legs dangling off the edge of the table on either side of Dylan, and splayed his hands against Dylan’s stomach, slid them slowly up, skimming over his nipples, then down again in a gentle caress. He looked up at Dylan and his eyes overflowed with unspoken emotion. “What is it, babe?” Dylan asked softly, kneading the back of Bastian’s skull with his fingers. Sebastian took a long, hard swallow. “I’m going to miss you.” “I’m going to miss you, too.” “You promise?” His voice was almost a whisper and sounded so uncertain it tore Dylan up inside. “Of course I will. Why would you think otherwise?” Sebastian closed his eyes and turned his head, but not before Dylan saw the moisture glinting on his dark lashes. “Hey, what is it?” Bastian shook his head. “It’s stupid. I’m just… Sorry, I don’t mean to sound so needy.” He opened his eyes, and lines creased his forehead. “You know I really do want you to go, don’t you? I’m not trying to sound whiny so you’ll stay. You need to be with your mom. I want you to be there with her.” Dylan gently rubbed his fingertips over Sebastian’s forehead, trying to smooth some of the worry lines. It didn’t work. He settled for brushing back the soft lock of hair that had fallen onto it. “You don’t sound whiny at all. And I know you want me to be with my mom.” He rubbed his thumb over 25
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Sebastian’s lower lip. “You could come with me. At least for part of the time.” Sebastian gave him a sad half-smile. “We both know I can’t.” “Get Richard to come in for a few days.” Richard was the retired schoolteacher who worked part-time for Sebastian, coming in on Saturdays, which were always Sebastian’s busiest day at the store, and filling in for him when he was sick or had to be away. “It’s not just that. Your mom needs your support right now, and having me show up with you when she’s not feeling up to par, especially when she hasn’t even met me before, isn’t fair to her.” Sebastian reached up and caressed his cheek. “You have to go by yourself.” Dylan sighed. “You going to be okay?” “Of course I will be. I told you, I was just being stupid. A moment of—” He shook his head. “It’s not important.” But Dylan knew what he’d been trying to say…a moment of insecurity. He wished he knew what to do to offer Sebastian more reassurance. He gave him a lingering kiss. “I will miss you, Sebastian. Let’s talk on the phone a lot, okay?” Sebastian nodded. “And don’t worry about Hennessy. I’ll go by and feed her and keep her company.” “Why am I suddenly jealous of my cat?” Dylan asked. Sebastian’s smile was a little more genuine. Then he cupped Dylan’s cheek again and kissed him. “Just don’t forget about me while you’re gone, okay?” “Never. Don’t forget about me either.” 26
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“Like that would ever happen.” “Bastian…you know there’s no one but you, right? You’re the only one I want.” The worry lines on Sebastian’s forehead deepened, but then he nodded. “Good. Don’t forget it.” “It’s supposed to storm again tonight. Will you call me tomorrow, so I know you made it safely? ” “How ’bout I call you tonight when I get there? Then I can tell you goodnight. It won’t be the same as giving you a proper goodnight in person”—he gave Sebastian a suggestive grin— “but I bet we can figure something out. ” That coaxed a real smile out of Sebastian. And another one of those damned adorable blushes. Which made Dylan realize, very suddenly and very painfully, just how much he really was going to miss this man.
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CHAPTER 3 Sebastian woke up in a cold sweat Saturday night, breathing hard, and trying to get his bearings in the dark room. He kicked off the sheet his legs had become tangled in and rolled over to look at the clock on the bedside table. The black numbers in the glowing yellow face said 3:22 A.M. Not Saturday night any more—Sunday morning. He sighed and flopped onto his back, trying to slow his breathing and the racing of his heart. He’d been having a nightmare…something about being trapped in a little building with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide, watching through the open doorway as a twisting, black funnel cloud came toward him. He’d awakened just before it hit. 28
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What had that been about? A psychologist would probably say it was a subconscious manifestation of some kind—his life spinning out of control, or a violent or unpredictable event about to happen in his life. Or maybe it was on his mind because they’d been under a tornado watch all day yesterday. Not for the first time over the past several days, he found himself fervently wishing he wasn’t alone. He missed Dylan like crazy. They’d talked on the phone every day, some days more than once. The conversations made Sebastian feel better while they were happening, but the moment they hung up, the loneliness got worse than ever because the sound of Dylan’s voice only made the silence afterward more profound. It wasn’t too bad during the day when Sebastian was busy at work, but nights were the worst. He and Dylan had been sleeping together so often the past two months, Sebastian hadn’t spent more than a night or two in a row alone in weeks. This had been the fifth night…and as Sebastian lay there in the dark, trying to go back to sleep and unable to make it happen, he was struck by just how damned empty his townhome felt. Part of it was because when Beck had dumped him and disappeared, he’d taken pretty much everything in the house, and in the eighteen months since he’d been gone, Sebastian had done little toward replacing things because the household items weren’t all that Beck had stolen from him. He’d also cleaned out Sebastian’s bank account—which Sebastian had been fool enough to add Beck’s name to shortly after they 29
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moved in together—and run up all his credit cards to the max as well. Insurance had covered some of the stolen household items, but what money he’d gotten for them, he’d applied toward the significant debt for which he’d ended up being responsible. But his townhome didn’t just feel empty because he hadn’t bothered replacing much of what Beck had stolen. It also felt lacking in the ways that made a place a home. It was…cold, hollow, like all the life had been sucked out of it. And in a way, he supposed it had. He let out a long, gusty sigh. He’d screwed up in so many ways with Beck. Moving in together with him had been the first of many big mistakes. The day Beck left, Sebastian had vowed never to make that error again with a lover. What had happened with Beck had wreaked too much damage in his life. Even if the other person wasn’t a thief, if a break-up happened, living together made it that much harder to recover. He’d seen the mess his part-time employee Richard’s life had been when he and his wife divorced—the fights over what belonged to whom, who got the house, the cars. He’d seen it when his own parents split as well, when he was a kid. Then add the emotional upheaval and loss on top of it…and it scared the hell out of Sebastian. Out of the whole mess with Beck, though, what had hurt the most was Beck’s Dear John letter. Sebastian tried not to dwell on it, and had finally begun to think about it less and less over the past few weeks as life with Dylan had filled him with much more pleasant memories. But in the dark, silent 30
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emptiness, his mind pulled it to the surface and refused to let it go. Beck had laughed at him over what a big, easily duped patsy he’d been. He’d ridiculed him, called him names, and told Sebastian point-blank that he’d sucked in bed and Beck had had to pretend every time they’d been together. “Fucking asshole,” Sebastian growled, hating the sick knot that still formed in his gut every time he thought about it. He felt like even eighteen months after the fact he was still looking over his shoulder. He’d heard nothing from Beck in all that time, had no idea where he’d gone or what had happened to him. And yet Sebastian couldn’t quite put aside the worry that Beck might show up again one of these days just because he was an asshole and wanted to rub it in with Sebastian. Or, more likely, because he was once again in need of cash. Many times Sebastian had wondered if he should try to discover what the man was up to because maybe, if he knew Beck had left the state or finally gotten picked up and gone to jail, he could rest easier knowing Beck was really out of commission. Then maybe he could truly get past all this crap. But the other part of him, the part that had burrowed in deep in self defense, didn’t want to know anything, didn’t want to think about him, just wanted to wear blinders and pretend he didn’t exist. He knew he shouldn’t still let Beck get to him, shouldn’t have let the jerk get to him back when it happened…but it was much easier to tell himself to let it go than it was to actually do the deed. Beck’s words had haunted him so much that 31
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Sebastian had almost lost Dylan over it. When they’d first met, he’d been so expecting Dylan to be like Beck that he’d treated Dylan terribly and had really hurt him. When he’d finally realized what he was doing, and faced the truth that Beck and Dylan were nothing alike, he’d apologized, and Dylan had given him another chance. But maybe that’s part of the reason he hasn’t told you he loves you. Maybe he’s afraid you’re going to bail on him again, like you did before? “Damn it.” Sebastian covered his head with his pillow and groaned. Then he threw it aside and stared at the clock again. 3:53. This was useless. He wasn’t going to go back to sleep as twisted in knots as he was. He might as well get up and do something productive. The store was closed on Sundays and Mondays, so it wasn’t like he had to be cognizant later in the day. He climbed out of bed, pulled on a pair of sweatpants, and padded downstairs. Morgan, his big gray cat, emerged from somewhere out of the shadows, the bell on his collar softly jingling, to rub against Sebastian’s legs. “Hey, boy. Whatcha up to?” Sebastian bent down and scratched under his chin until Morgan got bored with him and disappeared back to where ever he’d come from. Sebastian wandered into the living room, which was lit only by the faint glow of the street lamp shining through the open slats of the blinds on the front window. 32
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A sudden, prickling sensation crawled up his spine, as if something lurked just outside, watching him. He crossed to the window, twisted the blinds closed, and yanked the curtains over them as well for good measure. Then he switched on the reading lamp next to the couch, sighing in relief when warm light flooded the small room, offering a measure of comfort. He’d been on edge all week, fighting a constant creepedout feeling when the shadows of darkness rolled in and the sun set. Which was absolutely ridiculous considering he’d never, as an adult, been afraid of the dark or been scared to be by himself. For God’s sake, he’d traveled all over the world alone. And it wasn’t like he couldn’t take care of himself if he had to…all the years he’d spent as a young adult in martial arts classes had ingrained basic self defense in him. So what was wrong with him? Why the sudden paranoia? It reminded him of the unsettled feeling he’d had right after Beck had taken off. For several weeks he’d had trouble sleeping and had been jumpy. But that had been a year and a half ago. He’d had all the locks changed. Life had gone on, and he’d gotten back into a routine. Or maybe that was part of the problem. He sank onto the couch, picked up one of the throw pillows, and clutched it to his chest. Maybe life hadn’t gone on…not really. Maybe he’d just forced himself into survival mode, and had been so busy working hard, trying to get himself out of debt, and building his thick, defensive emotional walls to keep anyone else from getting near him, that he hadn’t really noticed how lifeless and joyless his life 33
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had become. Until Dylan. Now, he had a taste of what it was like to live again, but with Dylan gone, he’d been forced back into his old existence. An existence that now felt like a stark prison in comparison to what he’d been experiencing with Dylan. In fact, though Dylan had slept over here a few times, most of the time, when they spent the night together, they ended up at Dylan’s house. Which came as no surprise to Sebastian when he realized it. He didn’t even like to be here, so he’d naturally shied away from bringing Dylan here too often. How awful was that? That he didn’t even like to be at his own house? Maybe it was time to find a new place. Or make an effort to fix this one up again. But neither prospect filled him with much excitement. What he really wanted to do was go back to bed and sleep. He knew from experience, however, that he wouldn’t sleep. He’d be back to tossing and turning again, listening to every creak and bump and sough of the wind outside, biding his time until dawn lit the sky. Better to stay busy. Survival mode. He grimaced, knowing that’s exactly what it was, but not sure how to fix it. At least until Dylan was back. Giving up, he reached for his laptop, where he’d left it earlier on the couch, and switched it on. Maybe doing a little preliminary work on the month-end accounting for the store would sufficiently numb him and he’d be able to go back to 34
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bed. But twenty minutes later, the numbers blurred, and Sebastian had already caught himself in more than one error. Irritated at his lack of concentration, but still not particularly sleepy, he minimized the spreadsheet he’d been working on, and opened his email. When his messages had downloaded, he was shocked to see an email from Dylan. And it had only been written a few minutes ago! With his pulse racing—he wasn’t sure if it was from excitement or fear (Beck’s Dear John letter always loomed in his mind, much as he hated it)—he clicked it open. To: s_keller From: radtattoos Subject: Sleepless in Poplar Bluff Hey you, Hmm…that subject line just doesn’t really have a ring to it, does it? Guess I should probably stick to art and leave the creation of clever lines to someone else. :) It’s four in the morning and I can’t sleep. I got tired of lying in bed staring at the ceiling, so here I am. I figured emailing you was the next best thing to talking to you, even if you probably won’t read it until later today. 35
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Yesterday evening they decided to let my mom go home. We had thought it might not be until Monday— that’s what her doctor had originally told her. But since she’s doing well, and she didn’t have any adverse effects from the last test they did on Friday, they decided she didn’t have to stay as long. She was ecstatic. But my GOD it takes forever to get someone checked out of the hospital! It’s paperwork, paperwork, paperwork, then waiting for them to bring up her prescriptions, then more paperwork, then one last visit from the doctor, then paperwork again. By the time they got her all signed out it was almost nine-thirty. And after ten-thirty before we got home and got her settled. She was glad to be home, though. The other good news from this development is that she has a doctor’s appointment on Tuesday I’ll take her to, but then if everything’s okay, I may come on home Tuesday night or Wednesday morning instead of the end of the week like I’d thought. Just like Mom’s glad to be home in her own bed, I’ll be glad to be home in mine…preferably with you. :) I hope you’re having sweet dreams right now. Miss you. Dylan 36
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Sebastian smiled for what felt like probably the first time since he’d talked to Dylan early yesterday evening. He clicked the respond button… To: radtattoos From: s_keller Subject: Re: Sleepless in Poplar Bluff Hey yourself, I’m sorry you’re having trouble sleeping. Lumpy bed? That’s great about your mom being home already! When will they know the results of all her tests? Will that happen at the appointment on Tuesday? And I’m not going to deny that for purely selfish reasons I’m glad you might be home early. I’d much, much rather be in your bed with you than alone in my own. You’ve kind of spoiled me. :) Miss you, too. S Sebastian sent it off, then, unable to resist, he found himself obsessively checking his email every minute or so, on the off chance Dylan might still be up and respond. 37
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Ten minutes later, his computer dinged, indicating he had mail. When he saw it was from Dylan, elation shot through him. To: s_keller From: radtattoos Subject: Sleepless in St. Louis? Hey! What are you doing up at this ungodly hour? Not that I’m complaining. This is a better than pleasant surprise! And, no. Not a lumpy bed. A lonely one. Five nights without you…it pretty much sucks. You’ve spoiled me, too. I keep waking up, rolling over, and looking for you and you’re not there. I even miss you hogging the covers. :) If you’re still up, you want to IM? Then we can talk real time instead of having to wait for the lag between emails. I’ll go ahead and log in, in case you do get this email soon. D Grinning like a fool because his morning had just gotten a whole lot better, Sebastian opened the messenger program on his computer. Sure enough, Dylan was already there. 38
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s_keller: I’ll have you know I do not hog the covers. radtattoos: You totally do. But you’re very cute when you do it, so I forgive you. s_keller: *groan* I’m almost thirty years old. I’m not supposed to be “cute!” radtattoos: LOL! You have no idea how cute you are. Especially when you get flustered and you blush… s_keller: Oh, for God’s sake! I hate that blushing thing. You’re not doing much for my ego here by reminding me. :) radtattoos: Would it help if I told you you’re also hot as hell and that being in the same room with you makes me crazy with lust? Or that far too many of my fantasies center around your sexy mouth and the things it can do, and how just thinking about it gets me hard? s_keller: Oh, God. Now you’re embarrassing me. radtattoos: Which means you’re blushing again. :) s_keller: Even if I am, I’m not saying a word! 39
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radtattoos: So what are you doing up, babe? s_keller: Same as you. I slept a few hours, woke up, then couldn’t go back to sleep. I thought I’d work on the month-end bookkeeping for the store. I was hoping it’d fry my brain enough to sleep. radtattoos: Did it work? s_keller: Not remotely. All it did was annoy me. Very cool about your mom. I’m glad she’s doing well. radtattoos: Yeah, me, too. I’m not surprised though. She’s one of those people who’s never let her health issues stop her from doing what she wants to do. I’m also glad I probably won’t need to be gone as long as I thought. I miss you. I’m looking forward to seeing you. s_keller: I miss you, too. It’s been…quiet. I used to think I liked solitude, but… radtattoos: Yeah, same here. I used to think I loved going home to my own bed alone at night after I’d been out with someone. Truth be told, I did love it. But with you…it’s been different from the start. There’s no comparison. I’d a thousand times rather be with you than away from you. \ 40
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His admission reached deep inside Sebastian and touched warmth to the cold, empty ache that had been with him since before Dylan left. s_keller: I have to admit, the past five nights have been pretty crappy. I haven’t been sleeping well. radtattoos: I’m sorry. Anything I can do? s_keller: Thanks, but nah. It’s this damn place I think. It kind of feels like a black hole anyway, but after spending so much time with you the past few weeks, it’s worse than ever. radtattoos: You still have bad memories there, don’t you? s_keller: Yeah. It’s crazy, I know. It’s just a place. It shouldn’t have anything to do with anything, but it hasn’t felt comfortable since then. radtattoos: It’s not crazy. My mom believes all places, all objects, everything has its own energy. She’d probably say your townhome still has lingering bad mojo from him and the crap he did. s_keller: At this point, I’d have to agree with her. I didn’t realize how bad it was until I started spending 41
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time at your house. Your house feels different. Good different. radtattoos: So get out of there. Don’t keep feeling crappy when you don’t have to. Take Morgan and go stay at my house. s_keller: I can’t do that! radtattoos: Why not? s_keller: Because you’re not even there. radtattoos: I don’t have to be there for you to stay over. You can stay any time you want. s_keller: I don’t know, Dylan. It’s one thing going over to feed Hennessy, but I can’t use your house like a hotel or something when you’re not there. That wouldn’t be fair. radtattoos: Wouldn’t be fair to who? s_keller: To you. Several seconds passed with no response, then several more, and Sebastian began to worry he’d said something that had made Dylan mad. He was just about to apologize for he 42
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wasn’t even sure yet what, when Dylan posted again… radtattoos: Can we be honest here? s_keller: Yeah… radtattoos: Okay, then here’s the thing. I like being with you, Sebastian. I like going to sleep with you at night and waking up next to you in the morning. I like taking showers with you, eating breakfast and dinner with you, watching TV with you, talking to you. I just like being around you period. radtattoos: The truth is, over the past few weeks, I’ve realized I could gladly spend every night and every day with you and never get tired of it. And if I could be under the same roof with you 24/7…well…I can’t think of anything I’d like better. Now it was Sebastian’s turn for silence. Stunned silence. He leaned back and ran his hands through his hair, staring hard at the screen. Was Dylan suggesting they move in together? Oh, God. He hadn’t seen this coming. Maybe he should have, but he hadn’t. Dylan had just blindsided him. radtattoos: Bastian? radtattoos: You’re too quiet. I just pushed too fast, 43
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didn’t I? I’m sorry. Taking a deep breath, trying to gather his spinning thoughts, Sebastian managed to get his fingers back onto the keys. s_keller: No…it’s okay. The cursor blinked at him, but no more messages from Dylan appeared on the screen. And Sebastian sat, still frozen, unable to say anything either because it wasn’t okay. Not really. He didn’t know how to take Dylan’s words. Didn’t know how to respond without messing up everything. Thirty seconds later, his phone rang. The sound caused him to jump. His pulse racing, he leapt up from the couch and went to the kitchen to grab the cordless. Caller ID showed Dylan’s name. With shaking hands, Sebastian answered. “Hey.” “Hey.” The husky sound of Dylan’s voice coming through the phone line sent a powerful tremor of need and longing and confusion through Sebastian, leaving him shaken. “You okay?” Dylan asked, his tone concerned. Sebastian dragged in a breath, fighting to control his emotions. “Yeah,” he managed to get out in a passably steady voice. Steady, but still breathless, which he was pretty sure was going to give away his emotional state to Dylan. But there wasn’t anything he could do about it. “You just…caught me 44
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by surprise, that’s all. Where are you? You’re not going to wake your mom are you?” “No, it’s fine. I’m sitting out on the back porch. Sebastian…talk to me.” Sebastian moved back into the living room to the couch. Suddenly feeling the need for the cloak of darkness, he reached up and turned off the light. It sounded silly, but he felt exposed, and the dark, which had bothered him earlier, now gave him some cover. “I…I’m not really sure what to say. I guess I’m not totally sure what you were even asking. Were you…” “Asking you to move in with me? Yeah. I hadn’t exactly planned to talk to you about it like this, though. I’m sorry.” He sighed. “When you were worried about staying at my house without me, I just wanted you to know that…well, my house is your house if you want it to be. I didn’t even realize until a few minutes ago that, in my mind, I guess I already kind of think of it that way.” Sebastian almost couldn’t breathe at hearing Dylan say it directly. “You had actually thought of it before now? This wasn’t spur of the moment?” “I’ve thought about it a lot. Especially the last couple of weeks. I know we haven’t been together that long, but I meant what I said about being with you.” “But…I thought you’d never lived with any of your lovers in the past.” “I didn’t, there were none I wanted to live with. But it’s different with you. I feel different about you.” 45
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The pressure around Sebastian’s chest tightened. “Feel different how?” That wasn’t what he should be asking, damn it. He should be standing firm, honoring his promise to himself, and telling Dylan no, he wasn’t ready to let anyone have that kind of access to his life again. No, he didn’t want to live together and take a chance at ruining what they had. But instead, he was fishing and he knew it. Fishing and hoping Dylan would say the words he so desperately wanted to hear. “You’re special, Sebastian.” Sebastian waited, hoping for more, but it didn’t come. Special how? he wanted to ask, but then he’d be obviously, pathetically fishing and he couldn’t bring himself to that, no matter how much he wanted to know. Instead, he managed to get out, “This is…sudden, Dylan. For me, anyway.” “I know,” he said softly. Almost too softly. “You don’t have to answer right now. I don’t want you to feel pressured. I just…well, like I said, I’d been thinking about it and I wanted to let you know.” Dylan sounded subdued, which caused a pang of guilt in Sebastian. He suspected his lack of enthusiasm had hurt Dylan, and he hated that. And the truth was, when he’d read Dylan’s IM, his shock hadn’t just been about the question coming out of the blue. It had also shocked the hell out of Sebastian that his imagination had instantly conjured a blissful happily ever after with them living together…and he wanted it. For all of five seconds. Before reality came crashing in again and he remembered all 46
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the very good reasons he couldn’t and shouldn’t get into another live-in situation. But for those five seconds…oh, my God. He’d never wanted anything more. Dylan’s not Beck. You know that. Yeah, he did. More guilt ate at him for comparing Dylan to that jerk in any way. But it wasn’t just about Beck or Dylan. Sebastian had hated how he’d felt when he’d come home after work that fateful Friday to discover Beck had stolen so much, things that he’d worked hard for. He’d hated the loss of control he’d felt when he realized Beck had had access to virtually every aspect of his life…and had invaded everything. It comes down to trust. You couldn’t trust Beck. Do you trust Dylan? He wanted to. Did in so many important ways. But the fact that he’d thought he could trust Beck in the beginning, too, haunted him. “I need some time.” He cringed, knowing his words had probably just hurt Dylan more. They sounded distant and stand-offish even to him. But at the same time, he shouldn’t have even said that much. He didn’t want to give Dylan any false hope—that wouldn’t be fair. “I understand.” But Dylan’s voice still had that too-quiet tone to it, and Sebastian was pretty certain that even if Dylan did “understand” he was still hurt by it. “I’m sorry I’m so cautious.” Dylan sighed. “You have every reason to be.” “It’s just that it’s a big step and I feel like I’ve barely been 47
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able to get my feet under from the la—” He caught himself and winced. God, that sounded awful. He’d barely been able to get his feet under him from the “last time”? Implying Dylan was like Beck and was going to do the same thing to him? Nice, Sebastian. Way to put your foot in your mouth. “It’s all right, I understand. There’s no timetable.” Dylan’s tone softened. “I sprang this on you, and even worse, sprang it on you in an IM. I shouldn’t have done that. I should have waited until we were together in person. I’m sorry. No pressure, okay? I mean that.” “I just don’t want to mess anything up between us if I say no. I don’t want to mess anything up between us if I say yes, either.” “You’re not going to mess up anything. Just follow your heart and your instincts in your own time, and it’ll work out the way it’s meant to.” “But how is it fair to you if I drag things out and don’t make a decision, or if ‘my own time’ is weeks or months down the road? You deserve to get what you want out of this relationship, too.” “I’m crazy about you Sebastian. And I’m not going anywhere. I told you…you’re the only one I want. His soft, husky voice made Sebastian wish for all he was worth that he could see Dylan right now, touch him. “You’re the only one I want, too,” he whispered. But was that enough? Would Dylan get tired of him down the road because Sebastian was afraid to fully share his life with the man? On the other hand, how long could he stay with 48
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someone who might never love him? “I’m not purposely trying to string you along.” “I know that. You don’t have a deceptive bone in your body. But listen…living together aside, I meant what I said earlier. If you’re not sleeping well and your place is bothering you, you really can stay at mine. Anytime. With no pressure and no strings attached about making it permanent. Okay?” Sebastian swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Okay. I don’t think I probably will when you’re not there, though…it would feel too weird. But thanks for giving me the option.” “I just want you to be happy, Bastian.” The lump in his throat grew thicker, and moisture stung his eyes. He felt so damned guilty because he wanted Dylan to be happy, too. “Wanna watch the sunrise with me?” Dylan asked, deftly easing the conversation into territory less fraught with angst and dissension. Sebastian swallowed and swiped a hand over his eyes. “Is it sunrise?” “It will be in a few minutes. The sky’s getting light.” Sebastian rose and went through the kitchen to the tiny dining room and the sliding glass door that led out onto his small patio. When he pulled back the vertical blinds, he discovered it was dawn. He thumbed the latch on the door, opened the glass, and slipped outside. The cool, damp air of early morning surrounded him…a blessing to enjoy before the heat of the day built and it got so muggy it’d be miserable to be outside in it. He sank onto one 49
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of the two cushioned, reclining patio chairs, stretched out his legs, and crossed his bare feet. “I just came out on the patio. It’s peaceful this morning.” “Yeah, here, too. I’ve always liked early morning. It feels like I get to be the first person to see the world before it wakes up…when everything’s fresh and new and clean.” Sebastian smiled and tried to picture Dylan sitting on his mom’s back porch, probably stretched out in a chair much like he was, watching the first blush of light in the same sky he was watching. It made him feel close to Dylan, even though they were hours apart. “What are you wearing?” Dylan asked. “A pair of gray sweatpants.” “That’s it?” He heard the seduction in Dylan’s voice and it sent a spiral of heat curling through his body to settle in his balls. This— the amazing physical connection they shared—felt comfortable, familiar, and Sebastian was glad to give into it and move away, at least for the time being, from the confusion and heartache over heavier issues like moving in together. “Yeah, that’s it. What about you?” “Blue jean cut-offs.” “The ones that hug your ass that I like so much?” Dylan’s soft, low chuckle, intensified the heat in Sebastian. “Those are the ones.” “Anything under them?” “Wouldn’t you like to be here to find out?” “Yeah, I would. But since I’m not, and you’re not telling, I 50
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guess I’ll have to use my fabulous powers of deduction.” “And what are they telling you?” “That I know what you wear to bed…at least when you’re with me. And assuming you were actually in bed at some point this past night and then got up when you couldn’t sleep, you probably pulled on the first thing you grabbed.” “Which would be the cut-offs.” “Exactly. Which means I seriously doubt there’s anything else beneath that soft, ass-hugging denim except skin.” “You get an A, Mr. Keller.” “Just an A? Not an A plus?” “Mmm…you’ll have to earn that A plus if you want it.” “Is it private enough where you are for me to earn it right now?” “As a matter of fact, it is. You?” Sebastian scooted his chair back toward the house, into the shadows cast by the huge lilac bush that grew between his patio and the privacy fence that surrounded it. His unit was on the end, so the only way someone would be able to see him were if his next door neighbor—a twice divorced forty-yearold construction worker—happened to be looking out his upstairs bedroom window and was intentionally trying to see onto Sebastian’s patio. He usually rose early, even on the weekends, so it was possible. But if he was trying that hard to snoop, Sebastian figured he deserved whatever he saw. He rubbed his already hardening cock through the soft fleece of his pants. “I’m good,” he told Dylan. “Oh, I know you are. Touch yourself for me.” 51
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Dylan’s throaty voice made Sebastian’s dick pulse in excitement. Throwing all caution to the wind, and feeling an extra rush that his neighbor might see, he pulled off his sweats completely and dropped them to the flagstone next to his chair. “Oh, Christ…did you just take off your pants?” Dylan asked, breathlessly. “I did.” “And you’re still outside?” “I am.” At Dylan’s soft groan, Sebastian grinned. He palmed his balls and gave them a tug the way Dylan often did, pulling them down until bursts of heat flared to life deep within them and spread outward in an intoxicating fire. With his other hand, he encircled his cock and began long, slow gliding pulls. “What are you doing now?” “Stroking my dick.” “Slowly,” Dylan added in a knowing tone. “You’re doing it slowly, but you’ll pick up the pace soon. And every few strokes, you’ll slide your fingers up and squeeze just under the crown for a second, rubbing your thumb over that sensitive spot that makes you feel good. Your head right now is that sexy dark red it gets, and there’s probably already pre-cum oozing from your slit.” Sebastian looked down at his cock and saw exactly that in the soft gray light—a bead of cum glistened at the tip. He swiped his thumb over it, rubbing it into the smooth skin of his turgid crown. “You’ve been watching me,” he said, his voice 52
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hoarse with desire. “Oh, yeah. Which you damn well know. You like it when I watch.” A smile curved Sebastian’s lips. “How am I doing toward that A plus so far?” “You’re a brat. A delicious, sexy, teasing, exhibitionist brat.” “It’s your fault. You make me this way.” “Just like an unruly student, blaming everyone but himself for his naughty behavior. Be careful or I might have to give you detention. Or maybe I should bend you over my knee and give you swats.” “Oh, shit.” Sebastian gave a strangled moan. The thought of Dylan doing such a thing made his ass clench and an ache of pure lust throb deep inside him. “Hmmm…judging by that reaction, I’m thinking we might just have to try it one of these days. Who knew my sweet, softspoken, studious Sebastian could be such a kinky bad boy.” Kinky bad boy? That was a phrase no one had ever used to describe Sebastian before. He didn’t think he was worthy of it by a long shot…but he sure did like the way it sounded coming from Dylan. “Unzip your shorts and touch yourself,” he told Dylan. “I already did…and am. The thought of you sitting out on your patio bare-assed naked, in the early morning light, masturbating for the world to see pretty much made touching myself an imperative.” Sebastian laughed. Keeping his voice low he said, “Not for 53
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the world to see…only Bob the Builder next door.” “The big hairy bear guy? He better not be looking at what’s mine and getting any ideas.” Dylan’s possessive tone sent a flood of heat through Sebastian’s veins. “Yours?” “Damn straight. Only mine.” He was dead serious…Sebastian could hear it in his voice. “Say it, Bastian,” he said softly but firmly. “Tell me I’m right.” Wow. This new, possessive side of Dylan was a huge turnon. But Sebastian didn’t just feel it in his groin…it did funny things inside his chest, too. His hand moved faster on his jutting cock. “You’re right.” “Say it all, babe. I don’t ever want you to doubt.” “I’m yours, Dylan.” The words rippled through him, filling him with a powerfully erotic and emotional hunger. And in that moment he knew it was true. He’d never felt like this about anyone…this burning, all-consuming need to be part of someone. “Again. Say it again.” Dylan sounded as affected by it as he was. “I’m yours. Only yours.” His voice shook as emotion continued to surge inside him. “Don’t forget it, Bastian. Your neighbors can watch if it turns you on, but no one better damn well ever come near you or try to touch you or hurt you. Because unlike the other assholes who’ve been in your life, I know what an amazing man you are, and at the end of the day, I’m the one who’s 54
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going to always be here.” “Dylan…” Once again, moisture burned behind Sebastian’s eyelids. His hand worked harder, with desperation, as if all the emotion and desire had pooled inside him like magma, needing to be drawn to the surface for release. “And it goes both ways,” Dylan continued. “I’m yours, too. I was yours from the moment I met you, Sebastian, when you came over to my shop all pissed off because Ander was playing the music too loud. You stood there, radiating righteous indignation, with the afternoon sun glinting off your hair, and your sexy, seductive scent making me drunk on it and you, and I knew. I looked into your eyes and was lost.” An unbidden sob escaped Sebastian’s chest. He closed his eyes, listening to Dylan’s voice, and letting it carry him as he floated in that electrically charged state between reality and the tingling, muscle-tensing, mind-blowing moment of orgasm. “I wish you were here.” “So do I. I’ll be home soon.” “Come with me.” “I will. I’m close…” His breathing was ragged, confirming just how close. Sebastian knew intimately every sound Dylan made. Could picture his lean, sexy face drawn in concentration, his eyes closed, his top teeth biting down on his lower lip, his hips thrusting his thick cock into his hand. He knew exactly how Dylan’s cum would feel and smell when he shot, hot and wet and sticky, jetting from his slit in thick, milky bursts. Knew how it would taste if he could be there to catch it and lick it 55
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up. The last was all he needed to put him over the edge. His body tightened, and seed poured from his cock. “Oh, God, Dylan…I love you.” “Bastian…” Dylan’s voice was choked. And then he was coming, too. Sebastian heard and savored every gasp and moan. Exhausted, Sebastian collapsed against the chair. The first rays of the sun shot across the horizon, turning the sky a rich coral. “Thank you,” he said softly, still shaking from the powerful climax and the emotional overload that had hit when he realized he’d spilled his heart to Dylan again. He hadn’t meant to. Hadn’t been thinking…just feeling. But maybe…maybe this time it could be different. “Thank you. Think you can sleep now?” Dylan asked. “Yeah, for about a month.” Dylan’s soft chuckle wrapped around Sebastian’s heart, giving him hope. “Me, too,” Dylan said. “I just wish it was you I could go curl myself around in bed instead of a lumpy spare pillow.” “I thought you said the bed wasn’t lumpy?” “I guess I lied. Lumpy and lonely.” “If everything goes well with your mom, maybe we’ll only have to sleep alone for a couple more nights.” “That’s a good thought to hold onto. Bastian…” “Hmm?” “I…” Sebastian’s breath caught. Say it, Dylan. Just say it. 56
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Please. Silence oozed from the phone line for a second…two…three…five. “I…I was just going to say sweet dreams.” Sebastian let out the pent-up air in his lungs and tried not to let the disappointment crush him. Never again. Three times he’d tried. And three times he’d struck out. He couldn’t do this again…it hurt too damned much. “You, too,” he whispered. “Bye.” Dylan barely gave him a chance to murmur goodbye back before he hung up. He’s running away. Sebastian pushed the off button on the phone and lay there for several long minutes, too numb and drained to move. But then he finally dragged himself up, knowing he needed to get in the shower and clean up. He scooped his pants off the ground and entered the house. Five minutes later, as he stood beneath the hot blast of water, all the hurt and churning emotion of the morning caught up to him. He leaned his forehead against the shower wall and let the sobs come.
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CHAPTER 4 “It’s time to talk.” Dylan looked over his shoulder where he stood at the sink finishing the last of the dinner dishes. “Mom, what are you doing in here? You were supposed to go lay on the couch.” Carys Radamacher, dressed in a pink terrycloth robe, her long dark brown and silver streaked hair in a braid down her back, and barefoot, as usual when she was at home, waved a thin hand in the air. “Yes, yes, yes. And I’m supposed to eat my green leafies every day, never drink anything with caffeine, and floss my teeth to add six years to my life because some doctor wrote an article about it. I’m fifty-three years old, not a child. And I’m also your mother, Dylan Joseph 58
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Radamacher, so you don’t get to boss me around.” A grin teased at the corner of Dylan’s mouth. “God, you are so stubborn.” “Now you know where you get it from.” She sat at the small kitchen table in one of the red ladder-back chairs and flashed him a smile. “Well, don’t just stand there. Finish the dishes.” “Hey! Thirty-one years old here, and not a kid anymore. So you don’t get to boss me around either.” But he turned with a grin, rinsed the last plate, and stacked it in the drainer. “Smart aleck. Whatever happened to my sweet, docile, quiet child who never argued with me and was always respectful of his elders?” Dylan snorted. “Oh, yeah, because that was always so me. How long did you ground me for in sixth grade for calling old man Bascomb down the street a horse’s ass…to his face?” His mom’s laughter filled him with love for her. “Just between you and me,” she said, “I always secretly agreed with you. I was glad when he and his wife moved away. They were such a cranky, miserable couple. I always felt sorry for them.” Dylan emptied the sink, wiped off the countertops, then hung the dish rag over the faucet. He leaned back against the counter. “I felt sorry for myself. He hated me. He’d wait for me every afternoon in his yard, knowing I had to pass right by him on my way home from school, and then he’d yell at me because I’d delivered their morning paper wrong yet again. Even when I made a point of walking up onto their porch and 59
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setting it down in the exact spot he said he wanted it, instead of flinging it from the sidewalk like I did everyone else’s, he’d still find a problem with it.” He sank into the chair across the table from his mom. “I never told you, but after a while I got so mad at him, I’d purposely throw it in their rose bushes or under their car.” “Oh, I knew.” Dylan looked at his mom with a raised eyebrow. “You did? Damn, and I thought I was such a master at keeping it a secret from you.” “A mother knows everything,” she said, reaching across the table to rest a hand atop his. Her eyes, the same hazel color as his, twinkled. “Which is why we’re sitting here right now.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” She squeezed his hand. “It means even in your thirties you can’t hide things from me. You’ve been restless the whole time you’ve been here, sweetheart. But today, in particular, you’ve walked around with a hang-dog look on your face like you just lost your best friend in the world. What’s on your mind?” Dylan knew better than to try to pretend nothing was bothering him. His mom would see right through it. Already had, apparently. He sighed, and felt his shoulders slump. “It’s…complicated, Mom.” “I’m listening.” “I hate to burden you with my issues. You should be resting.” “Oh, for goodness sake, Dylan, I’m your mother. Nothing 60
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about you is a burden to me. And I’m not some fragile flower that has to be protected. Talk.” She gave him an encouraging smile. It took him straight back to his growing up years. His mom had always been there for him, to listen without judging, give advice instead of criticism, and offer a loving shoulder to cry on when he’d needed it. When he’d wrecked her car when he was sixteen, she’d hugged him first, made him take another driver’s safety course before she’d let him drive again, and insisted he help pay for the repairs out of his own income from his part-time job. But she’d never once yelled. And when, during his junior year of high school, he’d told her he liked boys instead of girls, she hadn’t batted an eyelash or gone ballistic like so many parents did. She’d hugged him again, told him she was proud of him for feeling comfortable enough with his own sexuality to not only recognize it, but embrace it rather than living a lonely half-life in the closet. Then she’d brought him several books on gay sex and health and a box of condoms, telling him it was important for all young people to be informed and safe. He knew she would have done the same if he’d been straight—except it would have been books on sex between men and women. He pulled in a deep breath. “I’m not even sure where to start.” “Where your heart tells you to start.” A half-smile tugged at Dylan’s lips. He’d told Sebastian something similar this morning…to listen to his heart. He obviously got more than stubbornness from his mom. 61
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“Remember I told you I was seeing someone?” “Of course. You said his name was Sebastian and he works in the same shopping center where your studio is now. But other than that, you’ve offered very few details about him. Which isn’t at all like you.” A twinge of guilt gripped his stomach. “I’m sorry.” “I figure your reason for keeping quiet about him is one of two things. Either he’s someone you know is no good for you—a drug dealer, a stalker, an axe-murderer—and you don’t want me to know about it—” “No! God, no. He’s nothing at all like that! He owns the bookstore right next door to my shop, and he’s…” He sighed and pictured Sebastian—gentle, sexy, smart Sebastian—with his eyes that opened into his soul. He could hear the sound of his voice. Remembered the taste of his kisses. “Sebastian’s everything good and amazing rolled into one package,” he said softly. “You’ll like him. A lot, I think.” His mom smiled. “Which leads me then to the other potential reason you’ve kept quiet about him…” “What’s that?” “For the first time in your life you’ve finally found someone who’s rocked your world. Someone you’ve fallen hard for…and it’s scaring you to death.” “What? I’m not—” She held up a hand to silence him. “It scares you, so in order to protect yourself, you’ve built up a big ol’ wall.” Dylan looked into his mom’s knowing eyes and swallowed. “I…haven’t put up a wall.” 62
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“No? So why haven’t you told me all about him, when I can see, plain as day in your eyes and the way you speak of him, that you’re crazy about this man?” “I just… I don’t know why. I guess I just…” “You didn’t want to tell me because you knew I’d pick up on the fact he was ‘the one.’ And if I recognized it, then you’d have to acknowledge it to yourself. You’re in denial, sweetheart.” “I’m not in denial!” His mom’s raised eyebrows said it all, even if he could pretend he didn’t hear the defensive tone in his voice. God, he sounded like pubescent thirteen-year-old. Dylan sighed and rubbed his eyes. Shit. Was she right? No…she couldn’t be. He knew how important Sebastian was to him. Knew he wanted to be with him. Hell, this morning he’d asked him to move in with him. That wasn’t denial. “Do you love him?” That tripped Dylan right in his path. “I…” He stumbled. Tried again. “I…” “Let’s put the denial thing aside for now, okay? It’s me you’re with here, so you can let down that wall a little and talk to me and I promise I won’t give away any of your secrets.” “Jesus, Mom, you sound like a therapist.” “It’s not a trick question, honey. Either you love him or you don’t. How do you feel when you’re with him?” He gazed, unseeing, across the kitchen, lost again in thoughts of Bastian. “Breathless,” he said softly. “Alive.” He 63
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smiled as he remembered their lovemaking on the phone this morning. “Hot. Definitely hot. But…but also protective. I don’t remember ever feeling protective of anyone before except you. ” He reeled his thoughts back in and blinked, finding himself looking into his mom’s gentle, smiling face. “You love him,” she said softly. He swallowed. “Yeah,” he whispered, admitting it to himself as much as to her. “I do. I really do. But I hurt him, Mom. I talked to him on the phone this morning before you were up, and…I kind of screwed up.” “In what way?” “Sebastian was in a really bad relationship before me. Not just your average bad…but bad bad.” “Abusive?” “Not physically, I don’t think. Bastian’s never said anything about that. But definitely emotionally abusive. And the asshole was also a thief. He scammed Sebastian, let him believe he cared, but he moved in with Sebastian for the sole purpose of using him. Then when he’d gotten everything Sebastian was willing to give, one day while Bastian was at work, he emptied his bank accounts, stole everything from the house—and I mean everything, Mom…he left him with like two pieces of furniture and his clothes—and then left a letter basically laughing at him for being a sucker and saying really horrible, hurtful things to make Sebastian feel as lousy as possible.” Pain flickered in his mom’s eyes and Dylan wondered if 64
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she were remembering when his dad bailed on them. His mom had really loved the man and been devastated, but Harlan Radamacher had clearly had no qualms about taking off and leaving his young wife and infant son destitute and alone, Dylan thought bitterly. “Bless his heart. No one should have to go through that,” Carys said. “There’s nothing worse than being betrayed by someone you care about. Is he your age, honey?” “Yeah, almost—a year younger. It happened like a year and a half ago, but it still haunts him.” “And probably will for a while still.” “I know. He’s cautious, and I know why, I totally understand why, so I’m trying to take it slow. I want him to know he can trust me. I really like this guy, Mom, and I don’t want to do anything to scare him off. But the problem is…I really like him. So I feel this constant push-pull between wanting more, then feeling like I should back off, wanting, backing off. But every time I back off, I think he ends up feeling like I don’t care. And, God, that couldn’t be farther from the truth.” He shook his head. “It happened again this morning. I pushed too soon about something. When I realized what I’d done, I pulled back and tried to make up for it. But then, right when he opened up to me, I pulled away again, maybe too far this time.” He remembered how hollow Bastian’s voice had sounded when they got off the phone. He buried his face in his hands and scrubbed them over his cheeks. “I don’t know whether I’m coming or going, Mom. I 65
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want to do everything right, and most of all I don’t want him to be hurt again. I’d rather cut off my own arm than be responsible for causing him pain. And yet I keep causing it without meaning to, and I don’t know why. I’m afraid if I keep it up, I’m going to lose him.” His mom sighed and pulled his hands away from his face. “I’m so sorry, Dylan. This is my fault.” “What? That’s crazy. How could it possibly be your fault? I hadn’t even told you much about Sebastian until just now.” She gave him a sad, pained smile. “It is my fault. So let me try to undo here some of the mistakes I made. I jaded you horribly as you were growing up, letting you believe that romantic love was equivalent to hurt, because that’s what you saw from me. When your dad left, it almost destroyed me because I loved him so much. But instead of moving on like I should have, and dealing with his desertion in a healthy manner by accepting the fact he was selfish and incapable of caring about anyone but himself, and you I were far better off without him, I clung to a fantasy of what I’d always wanted him to be.” “I don’t understand.” “I was young and foolish, just barely twenty-one, when I met you dad. Your grandparents had died in a car accident three months earlier. I still had a year of college left, and a scholarship to cover it, but had come home for the summer to finalize the sale of their estate, such as it was. They worked hard all their lives, so hard, and always got the bills paid and put food on the table, but there’d never been any extras. So 66
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going through their belongings and looking with adult eyes as how little they’d had to show for their lives only made the grief I was already feeling over them even more profound. “One weekend some girlfriends convinced me to leave my blues behind and go to the Ozarks with them for some fun. That’s when I met your father. I fell in love with him instantly. He was older than me by seven years, and much more experienced in life than I, which was, I think, part of my fascination with him. He drove a flashy car, talked about how he traveled all the time, and seemed to have money hand-overfist. I’m ashamed to say all that appealed to me, especially after seeing the sad state of my parents affairs and wondering if I’d end up like them. After a whirlwind few weeks, he asked me to marry him and I said yes, dreaming of bliss.” She sighed. “But very quickly I discovered bliss wasn’t at all what I’d expected. I found out your dad’s flashy car was ‘on loan’ from a friend of a friend of a cousin or some such thing, and a couple of months after we were married, that friend of a friend came calling, demanding it back, saying the person who’d loaned it to your dad had stolen it from him. And all your dad’s money? Won in poker games and other gambling endeavors. When I met him during that weekend in the Ozarks, he’d just won big. But within weeks, his winnings were spent and we were dead broke. He kept saying Lady Luck would smile on him again soon, and in the meantime he worked at the garage a friend of his owned.” Dylan listened with a churning knot in his stomach. This was first time he’d ever heard any of this, except the part that 67
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his parents had met in the Ozarks. Carys brushed her thin fingers over his cheek, and smiled. “I got pregnant with you almost right away, and in spite of the fact married life wasn’t as perfect as I’d hoped, and I wouldn’t be able to finish my last year of college like I’d planned, I was ecstatic to be having a baby. It felt like a wonderful blessing and a sign of life following on the heels of so much sadness and loss the previous year. Your dad seemed to be pleased also, and for a while, although we were poor, things were okay. At least I tried to pretend they were. “The truth was, though, your dad spent almost every night out playing cards or dice or whatever kind of game he could scare up. His wins were few and far between, and his losses piled up deeper. He started leaving for days at a time, traveling farther and farther for games, betting on anything he could. It was a sickness with him. It was all he could see or think about. And then when you were six months old, he came home after being gone for a week, packed up everything he owned, and walked out, saying he was going to Vegas because that’s where the real money was. I never saw him again.” Tears glistened in Carys’s eyes. Dylan captured her hand between his and squeezed, wanting to offer comfort, but not knowing how. Yet he was also confused, and oddly hurt his mom hadn’t shared this with him sooner. “Why, Mom? Why didn’t you ever tell me this before?” She sniffed and smiled through the tears. “Oh, pride, I suppose. And when you were younger, it was because, like I said, I built a fantasy around him and conveniently pushed to 68
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the back of my mind all the truths and instead fixated on what it was like those first couple of weeks he and I had been together. How handsome he was, how he’d swept me off my feet. That’s the man I fell in love with, and the one I wanted back. For a long, long time I hoped and wished and prayed he’d come back.” She shook her head. “All those wasted years.” She pulled in a breath, squared her shoulders, and forced a smile that actually managed to put the light back in her eyes. “But back to you and your Sebastian. My point here is that I was your main role model for what romantic love was like, but I was a very, very poor one. I clung to something that didn’t exist, and all you saw was the heartbreak. My heartbreak. Year after year after year. And so you grew up thinking that’s what love was…heartbreak and pain. Now, you’ve finally met someone who’s stirred to life all the wonderful things that love is and should be, except you’re afraid.” “I’m not afraid.” But as the words left his mouth, he heard the defensive tone again and winced. “Aren’t you? Sweetheart, it was hard to get you to admit to me that you love Sebastian. Does he know? Have you told him? Because it sounds to me like you’re both hurting and scared and in need of reassurance. And I know you said you were trying to take things slow, but is it possible that vow was more for your own sake than Sebastian’s? Maybe Sebastian doesn’t want you to back off. Maybe what he really wants and needs is for you to make a stand and let him know just how deeply you care.” 69
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A vise tightened around Dylan’s chest as he again remembered the quiet pain on the other end of the phone line before they hung up this morning. Bastian had opened his heart completely. And what had he done? He’d frozen up and been unable to offer the same. Again. Shit. He couldn’t even try to justify his reaction by saying he hadn’t said the words back because he didn’t want Bastian to feel pressured. The only one pressured had been him. He hadn’t been able to tell Sebastian what he was really feeling because he was too damned afraid of opening himself all the way and getting hurt. And that, in turn, had only hurt Sebastian more. Damn it. Dylan scrubbed his hands over his face, rose from the chair, and paced over to look out the kitchen window at the early evening shadows just beginning to creep over the green backyard. No wonder Sebastian was insecure and acted like he was never quite sure Dylan really wanted to be with him. He’d been giving Bastian so many mixed messages Sebastian probably had no idea what was going on. Dylan shook his head. What a fucking hypocrite he was…pushing Sebastian to commit to him by moving in with him, but unwilling or unable to bring himself to say the words that would let Sebastian know he was committed to him. Three different times now Bastian had told him he loved him—he remembered them all with crystal clarity because the words, spoken in Bastian’s low, emotional voice had reached deep inside him, and with a warm rush of contentment he’d 70
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never known before, twined through every fiber of his being, from his balls to his heart. He’d savored it, wallowed in it, wanted the feeling to go on and on. But then fear had set in and he hadn’t been able to reciprocate. Which had led to large doses of guilt for being so selfish for taking, but being unable to give back. And that, no doubt, had led to Sebastian feeling even more insecure and uncertain. My God…their fears had been feeding off each other all along because Dylan had been too stubborn and blind to accept he even had fears. He turned around, numbly grabbed for the back of the chair he’d so recently vacated, and sank down into it again. “I’ve made such a mess of this.” “The good news is, it’s not too late to set things right.” She patted his cheek. “Go home, sweetheart.” His pulse stuttered and he looked at her in surprise. “Right now? I can’t do that. You have a—” “I’m perfectly capable of getting myself to my own doctor’s appointment on Tuesday. And even if I were to get into a bind for some reason—which I won’t—Maryann would be glad to take me. Besides, if everything’s good, and I fully expect it to be, I’ll probably go back to work Wednesday anyway.” “No, Mom, you—” “Dylan, I’m fine.” Her hand dropped to his lap and her fingers twined through his much larger ones. “I want you to go home. Life’s too short and uncertain to waste a precious 71
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second of it. You need to talk to Sebastian and tell him how you feel about him. And that’s just not something that should happen over the phone. You need to be face-to-face with him.” “Mom—” She held up her hand to stop him and smiled. “Do you really think you can possibly out-stubborn me on this? You can’t. You go to Sebastian and you tell him you love him, then you give him a big kiss from me and tell him thank you.” His heart throbbing in his chest, Dylan asked, “Thank you?” “For being the one to finally open your heart. I was worried you might keep it sealed up tight forever, and I didn’t want you to always be alone. Loneliness is an awful thing.” “But you’ve been alone for so long,” he said, his voice choking. A luminous smile lit his mom’s face. “No, sweetie, you’re wrong. I’ve never been alone. I’ve always had you.” She pulled him into a hug, and for several seconds, his throat clogged with emotion and Dylan let himself lean on her again like he had when he was a kid. Then she pulled back, kissed him on the cheek, and with tears glistening in her eyes, laughed and gave him a push. “Now go. And next time you come down, bring Sebastian with you. I’m looking forward to meeting him.” “I’m looking forward to you meeting him, too.” He stood, then pulled her to her feet and hugged her again. “I love you, Mom.” 72
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She smiled up at him. “I love you, too, son. Now get your things and get out of here. Go!” “And you go lie on the couch. Right now.” He pointed at the living room. “Then please, for me, call Maryann and let her know I’m leaving tonight, so she knows you’re here by yourself in case you need anything.” Maryann was his mom’s best friend of fifteen years. They worked together at the women’s center where his mom was a counselor. She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Nag, nag, nag. Okay, I’m going to the couch.” “And call her!” “I will. I promise.”
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CHAPTER 5 When his phone rang around five-thirty Sunday evening, Sebastian’s pulse stuttered, then took off at a race. He reached across the newspaper he had spread open on the living room floor where he sat and picked up the cordless phone. He hated to admit he’d had it next to him most of the day…just in case. But, well, he had kept it with him, just in case. You could call him instead of waiting for him to call you. Sebastian grimaced. He hated that damned voice of reason. And besides, after this morning he’d been emotionally wiped and had needed to get his head back on straight before he talked to Dylan again. After he’d finally dragged himself out of the shower, he’d slept for several hours, probably from 74
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sheer emotional exhaustion. But it had been a fitful sleep, and when he’d gotten up he’d almost felt worse than he had before he’d gone to bed. Since then he’d been trying to decide what the hell to do with his life. Not the work part—he had the store and loved his job. It was the living space part, where he had no TV, no fricking kitchen table, no pictures on the walls, and no energy to do anything about it, that weighed on him. And even more so, the personal part, where if things kept up like they were, he was almost sick to his stomach over the possibility he might end up with no boyfriend. Another ring brought him back to immediate reality and, with his heart in his throat, he looked at the caller ID. But it wasn’t Dylan. Which sent a flare of disappointment straight to his gut. Just call him. If he did, though, he was afraid he might come away from it feeling worse rather than better. He sighed and pressed the “talk” button. “Hi, Joanie.” “Hi, handsome! Whatcha doing?” Being miserable. “Looking at the paper, seeing if there are any good rentals available.” “Rentals? Like apartments?” “Or houses.” He kept thinking of Dylan’s house…warm, inviting, comfortable, filled with the scents of leather furniture, the rich, freshly ground Colombian coffee Dylan liked, a hint of the sage incense he burned from time to time, and lingering notes of his aftershave and cologne. Sebastian 75
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wanted a house like that. Maybe it’s not the house. Maybe it’s the man who lives in the house that you really want. “Are you planning to move?” Joanie asked. “I’m thinking about it. I’ve decided I really hate this place.” “It hasn’t ever been the same, has it? Since that jackass Beck.” “No, it hasn’t.” “Why don’t you just move in with Dylan?” “What?” This was the last thing he’d expected to hear from Joanie. Had everyone thought about it before he did? “You guys are together most of the time anyway. This is the longest you’ve been at your own place in ages. So why not make it easier on yourselves and just live together?” Because I don’t know if Dylan loves me. How can I move in with him knowing he might not ever feel that way about me? But he wasn’t about to share that with Joanie. “I don’t know if I can do that again, J. The move in together thing. It’s messy. Looked what happened with Beck.” “Beck was the worst kind of low-life fuckhead. Dylan would never treat you that way. And you say it’s messy, but isn’t that what love’s supposed to be? Messy, complicated, but for all the wonderful reasons? You and Dylan are so crazy about each other. And you’re such a damned cute couple. You should be living together.” “It’s not that simple. And I thought we were talking about living together, not love?” he snapped. Then winced, instantly 76
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regretting taking out his frustrations on Joanie. “Whoa. You’re touchy tonight.” “I’m sorry.” And he was. Joanie was a good friend and didn’t deserve attitude from him. “I didn’t sleep well and it’s catching up to me.” “It’s okay. I should mind my own business anyway. I know better.” She sounded perky and sincere. “Nah, it’s not you. I’m just out of sorts. I feel like this place is sucking the life out of me.” “Wanna come sleep on my couch for a few days? It’s not like I have a hot love life or anything that you’d mess up, since Beau Butler likes my cake, but otherwise doesn’t seem to know I exist.” Sebastian smiled. “Come on,” she cajoled. “I’ll break out the My Little Pony sheets for you to sleep on. You know you love ’em.” The smile morphed into a genuine chuckle. “Oh, God…the last time I stayed over, I remember waking up with a hangover, and finding my aching eyeballs blinded by some horse on the pillowcase called Pinky Poo.” Joanie’s laughter rippled over the phone line. “Pinkie Pie,” she corrected. “And she’s just waiting for you to come back, Bastian.” “I’m sorry, Joanie, but you’re a grown woman. You’ve got no business having pink, prancing ponies on your bed sheets. That’s just wrong. If you ever hope to win Beau’s affections, those are going to have to go.” “Hey, you’re the best friend, so you get the ponies when 77
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you sleep over. For Beau I’ll gladly break out the black satin. I wouldn’t even make him sleep on the couch.” “Guess I know where I stand in your life,” he said with a grin. “Don’t worry, sweetie…those ponies are yours and only yours. I only share them with my bestest friend forever. And you’ll always hold that position.” “I’m honored. I think.” “So you’ll come stay?” “Ah… Thanks, but I’ll be okay here. Dylan told me I could go stay at his house if I wanted, but I turned him down, too. I’ll be fine.” “Dylan offered to let you stay at his place and you’re not going to? Are you crazy?” “What do you mean?” “Doesn’t he have a big screen TV? And actual furniture? Let’s see here…townhouse you hate with almost nothing in it or a cozy house in the ’burbs with, well, everything in it. Seems like a no-brainer to me. Not to mention with him gone you’ll also be able to go through his closet and sniff his clothes.” “What?” Sebastian croaked, laughing. “I’m serious. You know how when you’re really hot for someone and just the smell of them gets you all wet? Well, in your case maybe gets you hard, although I guess you can get wet, too.” Sebastian shook his head. “Your point?” “Well, it’s sexy, a turn-on. So when they’re not around you 78
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can go through their closet or their drawers and sniff their clothes, and nine times out of ten their clothes smell like them. So it’s kind of like being a voyeur and getting a secret thrill, but they never have to know about it.” “You’re insane!” But he had to admit, the thought of secretly touching and smelling Dylan’s clothes without Dylan knowing it was definitely making him hard. He shifted and had to rearrange himself where he sat on the Berber rug. “No I’m not. It’s hot, Bastian. You should go try it!” “I’m not going over to Dylan’s just to sniff his shirts, for God’s sake.” Though he did need to go check on Hennessy this evening. So maybe… Then he shook his head, and with a plunging sensation in the pit of his stomach, his earlier mood descended back over him. He remembered how he and Dylan had gotten off the phone this morning. And how hurt and lost he’d felt when Dylan bailed—like he couldn’t get off the phone quick enough so he didn’t have to open up to Sebastian. Dylan, all I want is some reassurance. Am I that hard to love? You say you’ll always be here, and you want to live with me, but you can’t tell me you love me. Why? “We should go do something tonight,” Joanie said. “Get something to eat or go to a movie. Want to?” Sebastian almost refused, feeling the urge to stay home and wallow in his misery. But then he realized it would probably be better for him to get out and get his mind off things. “Okay, sure.” “Cool! Why don’t you come get me around six. Does that 79
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work for you?” “Yeah, that’s fine. And you can pick the food and the movie.” “All righty. See you then. Oh, and Bastian?” “Yeah?” “Three words… Sniff. The. Clothes.” She giggled and hung up. A weak half-smile curved his mouth. He had one word for Joanie… Irrepressible. But as he rose from the couch to go upstairs and change into something else from the loose-fitting athletic shorts he was wearing, he couldn’t get her words out of his mind. Maybe, just for tonight, he could go sleep at Dylan’s. No pressure and no strings attached, Dylan had said. Maybe being in Dylan’s house, around his things, would give Sebastian some new perspective, and help him sort through the mess of emotions churning inside him. *
*
*
“Hey, it stopped raining!” Joanie said when they exited the theater among a throng of other moviegoers. Sebastian looked up at the dark sky and breathed in the damp, humid air. It may have rained, but the storm hadn’t done much to cool things off. Dressed in jeans and a shortsleeved tee, his skin felt sticky and hot. “Yeah, but look at that lightning flashing on the horizon. I bet it’s not done for the night. This is just a reprieve.” “I hate thunderstorms. Ever since I was a kid.” As they 80
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walked along the still-wet sidewalk lit by yellow sodium lights, Joanie wrapped her arm through his, almost as if, subconsciously, she sought reassurance and protection from him. He squeezed her hand. Leaning against his six-foot frame, she didn’t feel much bigger than a kid even now. Her head barely reached his shoulder, and that was with her shoulderlength curls pulled up and pinned in a wild riot on top of it. “It was thundering so much earlier I was afraid for a while the electricity in the theater was going to go out,” she said. “It flickered a couple of times.” “I wonder what they do if the electricity does goes out?” she mused as they stepped off the sidewalk and crossed the street to the parking lot. “I’m sure they have emergency lights from a generator.” “Yeah, but would they give us our money back for the movie?” Sebastian snorted. “In our society? I doubt it.” They were an aisle over from where he’d left his car. He pulled his keyless remote out of his pocket and out of mindless habit pushed the unlock button. “What if the electricity went out and we’d only seen, say, the first ten minutes?” Joanie continued. “That would suck!” “Maybe they’d give a pass for a free movie later.” He hadn’t heard the usual beep when he’d used the remote, nor had he seen the lights flash like usual. He pushed the unlock button again. “Yeah, maybe. Or maybe they’d make us sit in the theater 81
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for a while, in case it came back on.” “Joanie.” “But that would suck, too. I mean…how long before they called it quits? Two minutes? Five minutes? Fifteen minutes?” “Joanie…” “I think I’d start to get claustrophobic and have to leave.” “Joanie!” “Yeah?” She looked up at him, one delicate dark eyebrow arched. They’d stopped and Sebastian was staring at an empty parking space. “Where the hell’s my car?” “What do you mean? Oh…” She stared at the empty spot. “Okay…well that’s not good. Are you sure this is where we parked?” “Positive.” He had an extraordinarily good memory and two and a half hours ago, he’d definitely left his Volkswagen Passat parked right here, in this space. It was getting late, and on a Sunday night, not many people came out for the later shows, so the parking lot that had been overflowing when they arrived was only about half-full now. Joanie looked up and down the row at the other cars, as if double-checking to be sure he hadn’t just forgotten. Sebastian looked, too, suddenly doubting himself, even though he knew better. But no silver Passats were parked in this aisle. As if in unspoken agreement, they walked the next row over on both sides. And then the next, and the next. Then ended up back where they’d started. 82
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“Somebody fricking stole my car!” “Maybe it got towed,” Joanie said, but she didn’t sound convinced. “Why would it have been towed? It was in the middle of a parking lot, no fire hydrants, no handicaps spaces. Somebody stole it. Goddamn it!” He dragged his hands through his hair. “We have to call the cops. Right now, Bastian.” Sebastian reached for his cell phone, but before his hand even made it to his pocket, he swore again. “My damned phone is in the car!” “You always carry it on you!” “The battery was low. I had it plugged into the charger in the car and didn’t bother to bring it into the movie ’cause it’d have to be turned off in there anyway. Fuck!” The expletive made him feel a tiny bitter better since it wasn’t a word he used often. So he said it again. “Fuck!” An older couple walking by to their car, gave him a dirty look. But Sebastian’s usually easy-going nature had disappeared with his car, and he didn’t give a damn. What the hell was going on? His car? This was the last thing he needed. What else could possibly go wrong with this day? Big splats of rain began to fall around them. “Oh, fucking hell!” Joanie grabbed his hand and they ran back through the parking lot to the building, where they stood under the overhang. She dug into her shoulder bag, pulled out her cell, and handed it to him. “Here.” He placed the call, then while they waited for the police to 83
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arrive, they had to move back inside the building because it began to hail. Pea-sized, then nickel-sized, and then, in a sudden burst that sounded like the gods had let loose a rain of golf balls, huge balls of ice pelted down, bouncing off the street and sidewalk, hammering the roof and all the cars in the lot. “Holy crap,” Joanie squeaked as they watched through the big windows. The movie theater employees and many of the patrons joined them, watching in sick silence as Mother Nature wielded her fury. “Well, I guess you can you can take a tiny bit of consolation in the fact that if your car hadn’t been stolen, it would have been beaten to a pulp,” Joanie said in a strangled whisper. “Thanks. That’s a huge comfort, J.” Then he shook his head and gave her a pained smile. She shrugged and smiled back, looking about as ill as he felt. The hail continued for twenty minutes. By the time it was over, the street and parking lot were white with several inches of it, and leaves and small branches from the trees lay shredded across the top like a layer of frothy green icing under the yellow lights. People began to wander out to inspect the damage to their vehicles, but Sebastian and Joanie could see from their spot inside that the insurance companies were going to be swamped the next few days. The whole place looked like a war zone. Because of the storm, it was almost forty-five minutes between the time Sebastian had called the police and the 84
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arrival of an officer. And then it took almost another hour while the man filled out a report. The cop told Sebastian the same thing Steve Sellers, the travel agent, had told Sebastian last week…that there’d been a rash of car thefts in this area. In fact, the cop said there’d been one in this very same parking lot last night. He told them that most of the cars hadn’t turned up yet, which meant they were probably being taken to chop shops. He encouraged Sebastian to call his insurance company first thing in the morning and also be sure to report his cell phone stolen and cancel the service before he ended up with a phone bill of several hundred dollars. Just what I fricking need. When the cop was finished, Joanie called her sister Annette to come get them. But Joanie quickly ended the conversation and snapped the phone closed. “No way. She and that horse’s ass she’s been seeing are so high right now you couldn’t pay me to get into a car either of them were driving.” So instead of bothering any more of their friends or family, they just got a cab. The driver dropped Joanie off first at her apartment. By the time the taxi pulled up in front of Dylan’s house, where Sebastian had already left Morgan and his things earlier in the evening before he’d gone to pick up Joanie, he felt like he’d been hit by a train. He used the key Dylan had given him, let himself in the front door, gave Hennessy and Morgan each a scratch under the chin, then went straight upstairs to the bedroom. It had been a shitty day all the way around, and all he wanted to do was crawl between the sheets of Dylan’s bed and pull the 85
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covers over his head. But as his head sank into the soft pillow, the lingering essence of Dylan’s scent on the sheets teased his senses. In spite of all the hurt and confusion he’d felt earlier in the day about his and Dylan’s relationship, right now, at this moment, what he wanted more than anything was to have Dylan here with him. To feel the heat of his hard body against his, his arms around him, and be able to talk to him about everything that roiled inside him. He reached across to the empty side of the bed, grabbed the pillow Dylan usually used, and buried his face in it. “Whether you like it or not, I love you, damn it.” And I just want you to come home.
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CHAPTER 6 It had taken Dylan a while to get away from his mom’s because there were a couple of projects he’d intended to do for her before he left later in the week—a leaky sink in the bathroom and tightening the doorknob on her back door. In spite of her protests, and her insistence his personal life was more important than her handyman jobs, he wanted to take care of them so she wouldn’t have to call in a repair person. Once he got on the road, thanks to the never-ending road construction, and one torrential downpour after another from the line of heavy thunderstorms moving across eastern Missouri, it took Dylan more than four hours to make it back to the northwestern suburbs of St. Louis. But instead of going 87
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to his house, he bypassed his exit and drove straight to Sebastian’s place. It was after midnight, but the need to see him, touch him, hear his voice was so intense, Dylan felt like he was about to come out of his skin. When he parked his Jeep Wrangler in front of Sebastian’s townhome, all was dark. Which didn’t surprise him since it was late. Bastian had probably already gone to bed. But after he’d climbed the wet steps, rung the doorbell twice and gotten no answer, worry began to eat at Dylan. Had Sebastian gone out? If so, where would he have gone this late on a Sunday night? Or… Oh, crap. Was Sebastian home and just didn’t want to answer the door because he was still hurting from their conversation earlier in the day? That was enough to cause a sick knot of enormous proportions in Dylan’s gut. He pushed the doorbell again, hoping like hell Sebastian was going to open the door any second. “Bastian?” he called, “It’s me. If you’re home, please let me in.” He didn’t want to shout too loud and wake the neighborhood. On the off chance the door might be unlocked, he jiggled the knob. No luck. He didn’t have a key to Sebastian’s house, so he couldn’t let himself in to see if he was here. And Sebastian seldom parked his car out on the street…he put it in the attached garage behind his place. The garage, Dylan knew, had a solid door, so he wouldn’t even be able to see if the silver Passat was in it or not. Damn it, where was the man? 88
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He hadn’t talked to Sebastian since this morning. He’d felt awful after they hung up, and had almost called him back later in the morning to apologize for everything. But if Bastian were sleeping, he hadn’t wanted to wake him because God knows the man deserved to get some rest. So instead, Dylan had intended to call him tonight before he went to bed…back when he thought he’d still be at his mom’s. Two or three times during the drive, he’d opened his cell phone and almost punched in Bastian’s number, but every time he’d ended up closing it again. As much as he’d wanted to talk to him, wanted to tell him he was coming home early, he’d been afraid if he heard Sebastian’s voice, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from telling him everything on his mind. And his mom was right. The things he needed to say shouldn’t be said on the phone. He and Bastian had already tried the phone route this morning, and look where that had gotten them. Now, though, he wished he had called. Although, nothing said he couldn’t still do it. Needing peace of mind, he pulled out his cell and dialed Sebastian’s home number. A few seconds later he heard the buzz of the ring in his ear and also heard it faintly behind the closed door of the townhouse. But just like the doorbell, it went unanswered. When the answering machine came on, he stumbled for a second, not sure what to say, but then finally settled on the truth, “Hey, it’s me, Dylan. I came back early and I’m standing out on your porch, really wishing I could see you right now. I miss you, Bastian. And I’m sorry for earlier. I 89
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need to talk to you. So please call me, okay?” He pressed the off button on his phone and stared down at it in his hand, disconsolate. And then a thought occurred to Dylan. Maybe Sebastian had decided to go to his house after all. He’d sounded pretty certain on the phone that he wouldn’t stay there when Dylan wasn’t home, but maybe he’d changed his mind. Hope fluttered in his chest. He dialed Bastian’s cell number. Sebastian usually kept his cell phone with him all the time. Just like the home phone, it rang with no answer, but instead of Dylan’s cell voice mail, he got a distinct click that indicated the call had just been disconnected. He tried again and the same thing happened. What the hell was that all about? Lightning flashed in a blinding burst nearby, and was followed quickly by a deep rattle of thunder. Shit. There was nothing else to do but go home. Dylan didn’t have a landline at his house, so he couldn’t call ahead. He used his cell for everything. He just had to hope Sebastian would be there. As he descended the steps from the door, the sky opened yet again and rain poured down in a torrent. He dove into his Jeep, already drenched, and within seconds was freezing from the air conditioner. He shut it off, wiped the rain from his face, and drove through the dark, wet night. Twenty minutes later, he turned onto his tree-lined street, hoping against hope… 90
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But in the continuing deluge of rain, he saw right away that his driveway and the street in front of his house where Sebastian might have parked were empty. He pulled into the driveway and sat there, letting the Jeep idle. Maybe, just maybe he put his car in the garage. With Dylan gone and his Jeep not in the garage where it normally was, Sebastian could have pulled inside. Yet another flare of hope dared to rise in him. Please be here, Bastian. He pressed the garage door opener, and held his breath. But as the door crawled upward on its track, it was immediately obvious the only vehicle in the garage was Dylan’s motorcycle in its usual spot. Dylan dropped his head to the steering wheel as disappointment and worry, so severe they made his stomach clench, crashed over him. What now? He’d been so anxious to see Sebastian, to tell him how he felt, and hope it wasn’t too late to make up to him. But now, he didn’t know where Bastian was, if he was alone or not, if he was still hurting, or if he was maybe so mad he just didn’t want to see Dylan. He’s allowed to have a life. You don’t own him. Dylan squeezed his eyes closed. Damn it. He didn’t want to own him. He just wanted to know he was okay. What if he’d been in an accident in all this god-awful weather and was lying on the side of the road somewhere? 91
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Finally, realizing he couldn’t do anything sitting out here, Dylan lifted his head, scrubbed at his eyes that felt hot and damp and scratchy, and pulled the Jeep into the garage. A powerful jolt of loneliness consumed him as he hefted his duffel bag out of the Jeep and headed toward the kitchen door, closing the garage door behind him with the switch on the wall. When he unlocked the kitchen door and entered the house, everything lay in darkness except for the dim light on over the sink. Dylan dropped his duffel on the kitchen floor, then turned to close the door. A sudden jerk caught him off guard, and he found himself shoved against the open door face first as something big moved into the house behind him from the garage. His head whacked against the wood. “What the hell!” But a thick solid bulk curled around his neck and pressed, nearly cutting off his air. And cold metal—the barrel of a gun—pressed against his temple. A deathly chill shot through Dylan. A robbery? Or, he hated to think it was possible, but he couldn’t stop the cold terror at the thought…a hate crime? He’d lived in this neighborhood for five years. It was a mostly liberal community, which was one of the reasons it had appealed to him. The vast majority of his immediate neighbors knew he was gay and they’d always been pleasant enough. The family next door and the couple across the street had become real friends. But that didn’t mean someone couldn’t have followed 92
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him home. Maybe one of Bastian’s neighbors who’d seen him tonight, or someone else who knew where he lived. A year ago he might not have thought about it, but then one of his friends, Keith, had been attacked on his way home from the grocery store one night, and it had brought home to Dylan that it could happen to anyone and that hate crimes were alive and well. “So you’re the new boyfriend,” a deep, lazy, Southern voice rumbled behind him. The thick arm around Dylan’s neck squeezed tighter. New boyfriend? His rattled brain tried to make sense of the words. “I heard you talking when you were standing out on his porch, lover boy. Real sweet. ‘I miss you, Bastian…I wish I could see you right now…I’m sorry…’” his attacker mimicked in a falsetto. “Who knew our boy could earn such sentimental loyal shit from someone. Does he give it up for you if you talk real pretty to him? It used to work for me.” Oh, God. Oh, fuck. Beck. This must be Beck. And then a horrific surge of terror swamped Dylan. Was this why Sebastian hadn’t answered his door or phone? Had Beck been in Sebastian’s house when Dylan got there? Had he hurt Bastian, maybe killed him? “Where’s Sebastian?” Dylan choked out through his compressed throat. “What have you done to him?” Oily laughter slithered from behind him. “Obviously not enough if he’s got the balls to think he’s good enough for 93
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someone new.” Anger on Sebastian’s behalf filled Dylan, pumping in his head, causing a red haze over his already dim vision. “You’re such a fucking loser. You have no right to talk about him. Where is he?” His head slammed into the door again, and then again. Pain throbbed through his skull and he clenched his eyes tightly shut against it. The big arm dragged Dylan upward and inward, farther into the kitchen. Dylan had a vague sense of a booted foot kicking the door closed, heard it slam so hard the wall shuddered. A gash of lightning lit the sky outside and shone through the blinds on the kitchen window. It was followed almost immediately by a rumble of thunder. But he couldn’t make out anything about his attacker because the man was behind him. Dylan struggled, kicked. He was no lightweight, but with his head throbbing, and the air to his lungs being seriously depleted, he couldn’t get purchase to pull away. Damn, the guy was big and strong. They navigated around the island in the kitchen, and Dylan was unceremoniously thrust into one of the heavy chairs at the table. He gasped with relief when the man released his neck, and he felt little pinpricks of heat and light blasting in his brain as air returned. But before he could move, the rough bite of a rope dug into his biceps. In the dim light from over the sink, Dylan recognized it as his own rope, from his garage. He couldn’t let the bastard tie him up. Then he’d be completely at 94
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his mercy. But the barrel of the gun against his head reminded him he already was. Oh, God. Phone. His phone was in his pocket. If he could somehow get to it… “Unh-unh. Don’t even think about it, lover boy.” A large hand dug into the front pocket of his jeans, gouging his dick, and then his nuts, eliciting a hiss and a raspy, “Fuck!” from Dylan. And then it emerged, holding his cell phone. “I saw the bulge when I was checking you out,” Beck said in a sleazy voice against Dylan’s ear that made Dylan queasy. Beck tossed the phone onto the counter, out of reach. With one hand holding the gun, Beck used the other to twine the rope around and around Dylan’s torso, holding his arms in place with it so tightly they were already beginning to tingle from lack of circulation before Beck was even finished. When he bent over and moved lower to wrap it around Dylan’s legs as well, Dylan took advantage of Beck being off center, and fought, kicking and twisting in the chair. But with Beck behind him, he couldn’t make contact. And all it got him was a swift curse from his antagonist, and blow across the back of the head with the butt of the gun. “Don’t fucking mess with me, lover boy!” The gun now gouged into the back of Dylan’s neck, and Dylan’s breath froze in his lungs at the realization Beck’s hands were shaking and his voice was as sharp as broken glass. He didn’t know if Beck had it in him to actually pull the 95
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trigger, but the man was clearly on edge, and Dylan couldn’t take the chance. “Now be—fucking—still!” When he’d finished, he worked a knot somewhere at Dylan’s back, then came around to stand in front of Dylan and look down at him. For the first time Dylan got a good look at him—probably six-three or four, built like a brick shithouse with tattooed, overly muscular biceps bulging from out of a blue tank top, buzzed blond hair and a goatee. And, in light of the frantic energy that kept him shifting back and forth from one booted foot to the other, laughing, and thrusting the gun deeper into Dylan’s skull, either fucked up on something or just plain crazy. Huge and psycho and holding a gun. Not a good combination. Dylan’s pulse galloped like a pack of race horses. “So, let’s see what all I’ve got myself here besides a hot, bulging package,” the man said. He raised a blond eyebrow. “Well, well…not bad. Not bad at all. One thing I’ve gotta give that boy credit for is having good taste in men.” “Fuck off! Where’s Sebastian?” “‘Where’s Sebastian, where’s Sebastian,’” Beck mimicked again. “Looks like your sweetie took off on you, lover boy. I was looking for him myself, decided to pay him a visit for old time sake since I just got back in town. I thought with the right encouragement”—he waved the gun—“he might be persuaded to part with some funds to help bankroll a new project of 96
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mine. But then you showed up on his doorstep, and I thought to myself, ‘Self, you can wait around here in this dark, empty pathetic excuse of a house for book boy to show up and do his part for the cause. Or you can follow the hunk on the doorstep and see if he leads you to better pickings.’” He looked around at the kitchen and through the archway into the living room. “Looks like I made myself a good choice. Nice place you got here.” When Beck’s words sunk in, Dylan realized Beck didn’t act as if he knew where Sebastian was. God, please be okay, Bastian. Please don’t be lying hurt in your house and this SOB is playing games with me. Which gave Dylan a jolt when he remembered from all Sebastian had told him, Beck was a player. A user. And clearly an opportunist. He couldn’t be trusted…not even about Sebastian’s safety or whereabouts. “Let’s go check out the living room. I think I spy an HD big screen TV in there.” He grabbed the back of the chair and pulled it and Dylan across the ceramic tile of the kitchen floor as if Dylan’s weight were nothing to him, then heaved it up onto the carpet. He flipped on the lamp next to the leather sofa, and let out a soft whistle. “Oh, yeah. Sweet.” But while Beck was scoping out the living room, what caught Dylan’s eye was the ball of yellow and gray fur on the rug between the big sub-woofer speaker that sat near the TV and the wall. He just happened to be in the right position to have a view of it. What the…? 97
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It took him a second to figure out what it was, but when he did—Hennessy and Morgan side by side like they’d been best friends forever and were lying in wait for prey, or maybe had darted behind the speaker to hide when the commotion had started—his breath caught. And then he spied Sebastian’s laptop sitting on the coffee table. A deep down tremor of relief and emotion rocked through Dylan. Sebastian had been here! He’d brought his cat and his computer here, which meant he’d planned to stay the night at the least. But that realization was followed by another icy burst of fear. If Sebastian had been here at some point tonight, where was he now? His car wasn’t outside. Oh, Jesus. Had Beck caught him coming in the house like he had Dylan and maybe hurt him and taken him off someplace in his car? He squeezed his eyes closed. I’ll find you, baby. I swear I will. I’m going to get away from this fucker and then I’ll find you. But it was Beck’s voice, unctuous and suggestive that filled his head. “We’re going to have us some fun, lover boy. You and me and your hot body and all your pretty furniture and toys. And then you’re going to take me for a little trip on the Internet on your computer here”—he indicated Sebastian’s laptop—“and we’ll see what kind of dough you can come up with in the morning when the banks open.” He stroked a big hand lazily down his own chest and 98
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abdomen to his groin, where he cupped his significant bulge encased in tight denim and squeezed. Then he gave Dylan a leer that sent a new shiver up his spine. A leer that said he’d have no problem helping himself to anything Dylan had, including his body. “You like head, lover boy? The first time I ever met Sebastian, we got it on in a public bathroom. I gave him a hand job that had him squirming. And then I wrapped my lips around his dick and sucked him off. I gotta say, in spite of his tight-assed ‘I’m so much smarter than you’ attitude, the boy has a pretty dick. He’s hung like a horse. I had him begging and crying and begging some more. Knew that day I’d found me a pretty play toy.” Dylan’s stomach cramped. He couldn’t bear the thought of this beast touching Bastian. “Shut the fuck up!” At his yell, the cats bolted, one tearing into the hallway toward the stairs, and the other into the kitchen. Beck growled. “Fucking furballs.” But then he looked at Dylan and chuckled. “Whatsa matter…don’t like me talking about your boy Sebastian? I could tell you some stories that’d make you so hot you’d jizz yourself just hearing them.” “You filthy bastard. You’re not worthy of even saying his name!” The big man reached into his back pocket and pulled out a dirty blue bandana. Holding the gun dangling from one of his big fingers, he twisted the bandana, then, in spite of Dylan’s head jerking back and forth to prevent it, he shoved it in Dylan’s mouth and tied it behind his head. 99
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“No, you’re the one who doesn’t get to say it. Besides,” he said, stepping back to take another long, slow roaming look at Dylan, “just the sight of you bound and gagged in that chair is making me horny as hell.” He squeezed his cock again through his jeans. “Oh, yeah…this is going to be fun. So be nice, lover boy, and maybe you’ll even get out of this alive.”
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CHAPTER 7 A loud thunk jarred Sebastian out of a sound sleep. He lay in bed, his heart pounding, wondering what he’d just heard. But when a ragged flash of lightning speared through the darkness outside, so bright it lit up the entire bedroom, and it was followed within seconds by a house-rattling rumble of thunder, he took a deep breath and sank back into the pillows. Another damn storm. It had probably been thunder that had shaken him awake in the first place. He was starting to appreciate Joanie’s skittishness about thunderstorms. It had been a hellish night of them. He glanced over at Dylan’s clock and discovered he hadn’t been asleep long, only a half-hour or so. He closed his eyes 101
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and tried to relax, but his body didn’t want to cooperate, still reverberating with mini aftershocks from the sudden, electric wake-up. And then his busy mind got into another one of its crazy, downhill rolls, reliving the events at the movie theater parking lot tonight with his car being stolen and the hail storm, then dragging all his anxieties about him and Dylan into the mix. He’d never heard from Dylan after their conversation early in the morning, but to be fair, Dylan could have tried to phone him at home tonight and he wasn’t there. And Sebastian knew he had to shoulder part of the responsibility for them not talking since he could have called Dylan as easily as Dylan could have called him. Now, since he wasn’t at his own house, and his damned cell was probably sitting in the trash bin in some chop shop or had already been taken over by a criminal thrilled to have unlimited free-to-him minutes, he didn’t have any way to call Dylan until morning when he could contact his insurance company, get a rental car, and either get home or get to the store to get a new phone. Another sound somewhere in the house brought his nerve endings back to instant, tingling alert. He lay in silence, trying not to breathe too loudly as he listened. But with the rain pouring down outside and pounding on the roof, it was hard to tell much of anything. Except… What the hell was that? It sounded like…voices. It had been quiet in the house when he’d gotten home. He knew the TV hadn’t been on, and Dylan’s mp3 player sat in the docking station next to the bed, so the one down in the 102
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living room connected to the entertainment center would be empty. There it was again. Voices. Definitely voices. And they weren’t outside. No one would be outside on a night like this. Voices inside. Downstairs. Oh, shit. Has someone broken into the house? No, no, no. This can’t be happening. Sebastian’s first instinct was to reach for a phone and call 911. But then he remembered all over again, this time with brutal clarity, that he had no phone. Dylan, like quite a few people these days, didn’t have a landline in his house. He’d told Sebastian he’d given it up a couple of years ago because he was paying the monthly fee, but literally never using it because he used his cell for everything. What should he do? It might be nothing. Maybe the storm had caused the power to flicker while he was sleeping and when it came back on, the TV had come on. He needed to go check it out before he got all wigged out. It was probably nothing. Still, when he threw back the covers and pulled on a pair of shorts and a loose T-shirt, his palms felt cold and clammy, and his heart felt like it might be lodged dead center of his windpipe. He hunted around Dylan’s room in the dark as quietly as possible for something sturdy to take along with him…just in case. It would have to be something in here because he wasn’t familiar enough with the other bedroom upstairs to risk 103
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wandering around in the dark to look in it. Where was a good, old-fashioned baseball bat when you needed it? Finally, leaning up against a wall in the closet, his fingers curled around something that felt like a heavy, wooden dowel. He pulled it out and examined it, hefting its weight. It looked like a short wooden closet rod that had been taken down and was maybe three feet long. This’ll do just fine. It reminded him a bit of an escrima stick, which long ago he’d been pretty efficient with. He stepped out into the hallway and heard talking. Oh, crap. His heart throbbed so hard he felt it pounding in his head. There was definitely someone in the house. His plan immediately switched from “checking it out” to “getting the hell out.” Why didn’t Dylan have a phone? If he did, Sebastian could have called 911 from upstairs. This was insane. The voices grew louder as he crept down the stairs—well one voice anyway. He couldn’t make it out clearly, but the tone sounded pissed. One thing he knew for sure…it wasn’t Dylan. Have to get out, get out, get out. The mantra ran through his head over and over. The stairs came down into a short hallway between the kitchen, living room, and Dylan’s den where he had his drawing table and computer desk. When Sebastian reached the bottom, he pressed his back against the wall, trying to get a sense where the speaker was located in relation to the front door off the living room, the 104
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garage door in the kitchen, or the French doors off the dining room. No matter where the person or people were, once he came off the steps, he’d be visible if someone happened to be standing in the right place. “Let’s go check out the living room,” he heard an oily Southern-accented voice say. “I think I spy an HD big screen TV in there.” Sebastian pressed himself back even flatter against the stair wall and held his breath. At the same time it felt as if he’d been sucker punched in the gut. He knew that voice… Oh, God no! Not him. Beck had come back. It was something Sebastian had always feared could happen, but he’d tried to bury it so he didn’t have to think about it. But how could Beck have possibly known Sebastian would be here? Or known where Dylan lived? Then Sebastian remembered how “off” he’d felt as his place the past few nights. Had Beck been there, maybe lurking outside watching him? A shudder wracked Sebastian. God, was he ever going to be able to get the man out of his life? Or for the rest of his days was he going to have to keep looking over his shoulder, never knowing where or when Beck might turn up to destroy his peace? It was a struggle to breathe, but Sebastian knew he had to keep it together. He heard dragging and scraping that sounded like something heavy and wooden was being pulled across the ceramic tile of the kitchen/dining room floor. He could only 105
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make out shadows moving in the light from over the kitchen sink and then it stopped. One of the lights in the living room came on. He heard an appreciative whistle, then, “Oh, yeah. Sweet.” He’s going to rob Dylan. Bastard! Sebastian knew he needed to move, get out of the house. He could go next door or across the street to the neighbors and call the police. Being trapped in the house with Beck sent icy tremors through him. He stood on the bottom step, and decided the kitchen was probably his best bet. If he could catch Beck looking the other way, he could slip into the kitchen, then go into the garage. But then you’ll be trapped there because the second you press the garage door opener he’ll hear it and come out. Then I’ll just have to run like hell. He’d never been more grateful that he rode his bike almost every day and was in good shape. But as his bare feet landed on the cool tile floor, Beck’s voice, slimy and suggestive coiled around him like a serpent. “We’re going to have us some fun, lover boy. You and me and your hot body and all your pretty furniture and toys. And then you’re going to take me for a little trip on the Internet on your computer here, and we’ll see what kind of dough you can come up with in the morning when the banks open.” Sebastian froze. Who was Beck talking to? It couldn’t possibly be… “You like head, lover boy? The first time I ever met Sebastian, we got it on in a public bathroom. I gave him a 106
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hand job that had him squirming. And then I wrapped my lips around his dick and sucked him off. I gotta say, in spite of his tight-assed ‘I’m so much smarter than you’ attitude, the boy has a pretty dick. He’s hung like a horse. I had him begging and crying and begging some more. Knew that day I’d found me a pretty play toy.” Nausea roiled in Sebastian’s gut. But the next words he heard—“Shut the fuck up!”—in a pissed off voice Sebastian knew as well as he knew his own, sent him into a dead panic. Dylan? Oh, Christ…Dylan was here? How? Why? And what was Beck doing with him? Hennessy rounded the corner from the living room and shot up the stairs, nearly tangling herself under Sebastian’s feet. “Fucking furballs,” Beck growled. And then he laughed in that disdainful way that brought back old memories and made Sebastian’s teeth ache. “Whatsa matter,” Beck was saying. “Don’t like me talking about your boy Sebastian? I could tell you some stories that’d make you so hot you’d jizz yourself just hearing them.” “You filthy bastard. You’re not worthy of even saying his name!” Sudden, unexpected tears burned behind Sebastian’s eyes at the sound of Dylan defending him. God, how much did he love this man?” But Beck’s next words, pulled him from his moment of sentiment and sent icy warning alarms off in his body. 107
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“No,” Beck said, “you’re the one who doesn’t get to say it.” There was a scuffling noise and Sebastian heard Dylan grunt. “Besides,” Beck said. “Just the sight of you bound and gagged in that chair is making me horny as hell. Oh, yeah…this is going to be fun. So be nice, lover boy, and maybe you’ll even get out of this alive.” Fury ripped through Sebastian, thick and hot and heady. Dylan was bound and gagged? “No way,” he whispered. No. Fucking. Way. Beck was not fucking with Sebastian’s life ever again, not hurting anyone else, especially not Dylan. Not my Dylan. Running on pure adrenaline and some deep down flame of primitive rage that stole all rational thought, Sebastian took the corner around the stairs at a run. In the split second after he entered the living room, he registered that Dylan was bound completely to one of the kitchen chairs, a blue bandana tied around his head, his eyes flashing in indignation. And Beck stood holding a gun dangling from his hand at his side. His back was to Sebastian. A gun! Oh, shit. The sight brought back a brief measure of sanity to Sebastian’s mind. But when he saw Beck reach down to Dylan’s groin, he snapped. “No fucking way!” he shouted, swinging the thick wooden rod and landing the blow across the wrist that held the gun. The gun fell to the rug several feet away. Beck shouted in 108
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pain and shock. He clutched his hand to him and spun around, defensive and ready to attack whatever had just gotten him. “You!” he bellowed. He swung out, trying to hit Sebastian in the face. But Sebastian was ready for him. He swung again, deflecting most of the blow and only knowing Beck had made some contact when he tasted hot droplets of blood in his mouth. Without balking, Sebastian came right back at him, landing a hit of his own on Beck’s face, then another, and another. The third strike caught Beck upside the head with a powerful blow that reverberated all the way down the stick into Sebastian’s arms. For a bizarre, stretched-out moment, Beck’s blue eyes widened like he couldn’t believe for a second Sebastian could have actually hit him. Then he dropped like a stone. Sebastian’s breath seemed to be flaying his lungs on each gasp, and his pulse roared through his veins as he stood over Beck, watching to make sure he wasn’t going to get back up. “No fucking way are you touching him!” he spat down at the big blond man. “He’s mine. And you’re nothing!” Beck moaned softly, his eyes fluttered closed, and then he was out. As Sebastian came back into his body, he became potently aware of Dylan’s gaze on him. He swallowed hard and looked up to meet it. Dylan’s eyes burned with a fierce, intense look Sebastian couldn’t read. But he felt it. All the way to the depths of his soul, where it gave birth to a flame that seared through him 109
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from the inside out. He tossed aside the wooden rod, licked out with his tongue to capture the blood beading on his lower lip, and almost stumbled over Beck’s unconscious form in his desperate need to get to Dylan. The moment he had the gag pulled free, Dylan said, “My cell phone’s on the kitchen counter. Go call 911.” Sebastian nodded and left the room, but was back seconds later with a butcher’s knife in one hand and the phone, already held against his ear with the other. He knelt on the floor, and as he spoke to the 911 dispatcher, he cut the knot to set Dylan free. Dylan immediately dropped to his knees beside Beck and began using the rope that had held him to truss up the blond man. “They’re on the way,” Sebastian said, closing the phone. Now that the adrenaline surge had faded, his hands shook. Hell, who was he kidding? His whole body trembled. Beck had been holding a gun and he’d attacked him with a fricking piece of wood. Dylan didn’t even glance at him, busy with the tying, but he nodded. “Good.” “They said not to touch anything if we can help it, until they can get here.” Again Dylan nodded. Finally, he looked up. “Are you okay?” he asked softly. Sebastian swallowed hard. “I’m the one who should be asking you that. You’re the one he hurt.” Dylan rose and gently brushed his thumb over Sebastian’s 110
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lower lip where Beck had hit him, then stepped back. Sebastian had been hoping for more, wanted to pull Dylan into his arms, feel Dylan’s arms around him, and never let him go again. But he didn’t want to push. Couldn’t. Not after what Beck had done to Dylan. “I’m fine,” Dylan said. “A little bit of a headache, but okay.” “Thank God.” “You were amazing, Sebastian. I had no idea you were even here—your car wasn’t outside. And then you were tearing in here, swinging that piece of wood like some kind of ninja warrior.” “My car. Yeah…that’s a long story. I’ll tell you about it later.” After what Dylan had just gone through, Sebastian’s car problems seemed hugely insignificant. “And about the other thing… I kind of lived in the martial arts studio when I was growing up,” Sebastian admitted. “Kind of?” One of Dylan’s dark eyebrows rose. “Knowing you, you probably have a black belt in something or other and just haven’t ever mentioned it because you’re too damned modest for your own good.” Sebastian gave him a guilty half-smile. “Oh, God…you do.” “Yeah. Third degree.” A soft huff of laughter tumbled from Dylan. “Why am I not surprised?” “Dylan…how did Beck know to come here? I swear I would never have led him here intentionally.” 111
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Dylan sobered. “I went to your place first tonight, thinking that’s where you’d be. I…I needed to talk to you.” Sebastian’s chest tightened. Dylan had come home early. Very early. And he sounded so serious about needing to talk. Sebastian was afraid to know about what. “He saw me, heard me on your porch,” Dylan continued. “And then I left a message on your answering machine and he heard that, too. When I left to come home, he followed me.” “Oh, God…he heard you on the answering machine? He was in my house?” Dylan pressed the back of Sebastian’s head with his hand and feathered a kiss on his forehead. “It’s okay. He’s out of commission now. He’ll be arrested.” Further conversation was cut short as the police arrived. Sebastian sighed. His second go-round with the police in one day.
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CHAPTER 8 Beck came to shortly after the police showed up and he, of course, denied everything, too stupid to keep his mouth shut and wait until he had an attorney present, even though the cops warned him he should wait. He screamed loudly about how Sebastian had attacked him, broken his hand, shattered his cheekbone, and Sebastian should be taken in for assault. But they found his vehicle outside with stolen tags on it and a stash of crystal meth under a seat, and they had Sebastian’s and Dylan’s corroborating statements about the events that had unfolded here tonight. So they quickly cuffed him and hauled him off to the hospital. It was after four in the morning before the last law 113
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enforcement vehicle drove away, leaving Sebastian and Dylan alone. Sebastian stood in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, and watched as Dylan shut and locked the front door. He was struck all over again, as he had been several times since the police arrived, at how painfully silent Dylan had been except for answering questions. He was pretty sure he knew what it was all about, especially on the heels of Dylan’s statement earlier about how he’d come home early from his mom’s because he needed to talk to Sebastian. Sebastian’s heart broke, knowing the time had come. There was no point in delaying the inevitable. With a sigh, he turned and went upstairs to Dylan’s bedroom. He had just folded a shirt and put it in the bag he’d brought with him, when he felt Dylan’s arms slide around him from behind. “Hey,” Dylan said against his ear. The full length of his body pressed against Sebastian’s back, and a slow, needy shudder started in Sebastian’s balls and spread outward from there. God, the man felt good. Too good. Then Dylan stilled, as if he’d just realized what Sebastian had been up to. “What are you doing, babe?” he asked softly, turning Sebastian around to face him. In the glow of the lamp next to the bed, Sebastian saw that Dylan was looking at him, really looking at him, for the first time since Sebastian had knocked out Beck. But once again Sebastian couldn’t read what was in his gaze. 114
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He took a deep breath. “You’ve been really, really quiet.” Dylan winced. “I know. I’m sorry.” “It’s all right. I understand. I’m guessing having my psycho ex attack you in your own home, tie you up, and hold you at gunpoint has probably pretty much put an end to us, and you’re just having a hard time telling me as much. I’ve made it difficult enough for you already, so I’m getting my things together, then I’ll call a cab so you can get your life back.” He started to turn away, his chest aching. But Dylan caught him with an arm around his waist and turned him back. “Why is your first instinct always to run?” Sebastian swallowed hard. “Is it? I don’t know. It just seems like the best thing for me to do is to get out of your hair. I’m sorry, Dylan. So, so sorry for what happened here tonight. I would never…” His voice choked trying to get past the thick, aching tightness in his throat. I would never have wanted this to happen.” “I know that.” Dylan’s warm callused hands cradled Sebastian’s jaw. “Has it occurred to you that I’ve been quiet for a very different reason than wanting you out of my life?” “Like what?” “Like the fact you continually blow me away with your strength and your intelligence and, tonight, your passion and quick thinking under fire. Like the fact I was afraid if I looked at you, touched you, held you before the police came or while they were here, I’d fall apart from all the emotions you make me feel.” 115
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Sebastian’s chest hitched and he suddenly found it hard to drag air into his lungs. “Wh—at?” “Do you know why I came home early?” Sebastian shook his head. “Because I’m so fucking in love with you, Sebastian Keller, I can barely breathe when I’m around you. And I needed you to know it before another day passed. I’ve been an idiot, trying to hold you at a distance, rationalizing that I’m doing it for you so you don’t have to feel pressured, when all along it’s been me who’s scared. I love you so damned much that I’ve been scared to say it, to allow myself to feel it to its full depth, because it seemed too good to be true. And things that are too good to be true, usually are. Except you…except us.” “Dylan…” It was all Sebastian could manage as hot moisture blurred his vision. “Bastian,” Dylan breathed. And then he was pulling Sebastian against him, kissing him with a heat and passion Sebastian had never felt from him before. It had always been amazing. But this was deeper, richer. The warm, enticing scent of musk and amber, mixed with a hint of rain—Dylan’s scents—curled through Sebastian’s senses. “Please don’t leave,” Dylan said, burying his face in Sebastian’s neck, sending pulsing waves of love and desire through Sebastian. He threaded his hands through Dylan’s short, dark, spiky hair. “I didn’t want to…I just thought it’s what you would want.” 116
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Dylan leaned back. His hazel eyes scorched into Sebastian, filled with all the bare emotion Sebastian had been wanting so much to see. “What I want, all I want, is you,” Dylan said. “Tonight, next week, next year, forever.” “Forever?” Dylan nodded. “You asked me if I’d move in. Does that offer still stand?” “Anytime you want.” “Like…right now?” Sebastian whispered. A warm, sexy grin bloomed on Dylan’s face. “Right this second?” he teased. Sebastian nodded and gave him a sheepish smile. “Yeah. Right this second. I don’t want to waste another moment of time with you. I need you too much.” “I need you, too, Sebastian. I’m going to take you to bed now,” Dylan said in a low, husky voice. “Any protests?” Heat scudded through Sebastian’s veins. “Only that you have on way too many clothes.” “A man of my own heart.” Dylan stripped off Sebastian’s shirt and shorts, then made quick work of his shirt and jeans as well. When they were both nude, Sebastian wrapped an arm around Dylan’s waist and dragged him against him. They both moaned when their hot, already hard cocks pressed together. “You realize I might keep you home in bed for, like, the rest of the week,” Dylan said. “You realize if you decide to do that I’m not going to 117
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argue with you.” Dylan flashed him a grin. “You were looking pretty possessive when you came in there tonight, all fired up and telling him I was yours.” Sebastian stroked a hand over Dylan’s ass, running his fingers along the seam until Dylan hissed in appreciation. “I was feeling pretty possessive,” Sebastian said. “It was fucking hot.” “Yeah?” A seductive smile curved Dylan’s mouth. “Oh, yeah. Let me show you just how hot.” He pushed Sebastian down into the tangle of soft pillows and sheets, then rolled him over onto this stomach. The warm weight of his body—all sleek skin and hard muscle pressed Sebastian deeper into the mattress. The length of his cock nestled in Sebastian’s crack, and Sebastian couldn’t stop himself from lifting his ass and grinding against it. “Feel good?” Dylan asked, his breath hot against Sebastian’s neck. “God, yes.” Dylan nuzzled just beneath his ear, in a sensitive spot, sending shooting sparks through Sebastian’s body. Then he kissed his way, slowly, agonizingly down Sebastian’s back as his hands roamed, tracing random patterns over his skin, smoothing over every curve and hollow, every muscle and dip. His arm slid around Sebastian’s waist, and pulled his ass up, encouraging Sebastian to get on his knees. Then his warm hands were spreading Bastian’s ass cheeks apart, opening him 118
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and exposing him. “So fucking sexy,” Dylan murmured. When the wet, sinful heat of Dylan’s tongue flicked over his opening and probed into him, Sebastian spasmed. “Oh, Jesus!” And then continued to spasm and clench as Dylan’s tongue swirled around and around his hole, plunged in again, swirled. Over and over Dylan plundered him, making fast, hard jabs, then long, slow, exquisite thrusts until Sebastian thrashed on the bed, moaning, panting, begging for more. Dylan’s palm cupped his balls and tugged on them, adding another sensation to the mix, and sending a surge of white-hot ache through Sebastian’s already over-stimulated body. He’d never in his life been so utterly aroused. Flames licked through him, leaping from one nerve ending to another, turning his veins to liquid heat, stealing his air and leaving him gasping and on fire. His cock pulsed, bobbing between the bed and his abdomen, needing to be touched. But when he reached for it himself, Dylan pushed his hand away, and said, “Mine,” in a deep, possessive voice before diving back in, with even more intensity, to the tongue fucking he was giving Sebastian. Sebastian moaned. Oh god…oh god, oh god… And then it all stopped. “No!” Sebastian cried, eyes closed tight, his body shuddering in need and protest. “Just for a second, babe. Then it’ll be even better.” He heard Dylan yank out the drawer of the bedside table. Felt movement behind him. And suddenly, Dylan was back, 119
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this time with the head of his cock pressing against Sebastian’s slick ass. “I’m sorry, but I can’t go slow,” Dylan said, his voice raspy. “You’re too fucking sexy, Bastian. Jesus Christ, I’ve never known anyone so fucking sexy. You make me crazy.” And then he thrust deep. Sebastian sobbed out a welcome as Dylan’s thick length stretched him wide and plumbed him to his very depths, filling him full. At the same time, Dylan’s hand finally, finally curled around Bastian’s dick. Dylan pumped into him without mercy, true to his word that slow wasn’t an option. As each plunge grew harder, penetrated deeper, Sebastian thrust back on each of Dylan’s in-strokes, then as Dylan slid out, drove his own aching cock into Dylan’s masterful hand. Back and forth, back and forth they moved, until his body was swept up in flames. Cum shot from his shaft, coating his chest and stomach, dripping from Dylan’s hand. And then Dylan tensed, and with what felt like a soul-deep shudder, plowed into Sebastian to the balls, shaking with his own release. For several long moments, they didn’t move, just clung together panting, Dylan lying pressed against his back. But then Sebastian’s legs gave out and he sank onto the bed on his stomach. Dylan lowered himself on top of him, still keeping the full-body contact. Sebastian was the first to break the close, intimate silence. “If we’re going to be living together…we’re going to need more condoms.” Dylan’s low laughter tugged a smile to Sebastian’s lips . 120
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“Boxes of them,” Dylan agreed. He rolled to his side next to Sebastian. Sebastian turned his head to look at him, and his heart stalled in his chest at the hot, open look of love on Dylan’s face. “Or…we could go together this week and get tested, then forgo the condoms all together,” Dylan said. Sebastian’s stomach fluttered at what that meant…commitment. Real commitment. The forever kind. That Dylan was offering it spoke volumes about the level of his feelings for Sebastian. Dylan Radamacher didn’t make promises or commitments lightly. He was one of the rare good ones, and Sebastian realized just how damned lucky he was. “It’s a date.” Dylan’s smile filled him with sunlight. “I love you, Bastian.” “I love you.” So damned much. Dylan rolled over, pulled off the condom and put it in the trashcan near the bed, then scooted back to Sebastian and draped an arm around his waist. “Can we maybe have another date this week, too?” Sebastian asked. “Of course. Whenever you want, babe. Anything in particular?” “Yeah…I have a feeling I may be car shopping.” “Where is your car?” Sebastian chuckled. A few hours ago he wouldn’t have been able to, but the world just felt like a much better place 121
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now. And, really, what else could he do but laugh? “Joanie and I went to the movie last night, came out after it was over, and my car had been stolen.” Dylan’s eyebrows shot up. “What the fuck?” “That’s about what I said.” He scowled. “Do you think it was Beck?” “I don’t think so. The cop said they’d been having a lot of car thefts recently, and one was stolen the night before mine in that same theater parking lot. None of them have been found so far, so they think it’s professional. Which means my car’s probably already in parts somewhere. I have to get a new cell phone, too, ’cause my phone was in it.” “My God…you had a busy night, didn’t you? And you had to deal with the police twice.” “Yeah. Who knew. Me, the mild-mannered bookstore owner, who’s supposed to have such a quiet, dull life.” Dylan’s chuckle brought another smile to his face. “Babe, you are such a far cry from dull it’s not even worth a comparison. You, who’ve traveled the world, have a fricking black belt you just kinda-sorta forgot to mention, and a body like a god with the erotic sensuality to go with it. A day doesn’t go by that you don’t surprise me in some way or another. Every time I unpeel another layer on you, it’s like discovering another new, delicious flavor you have to offer.” “Now you’re embarrassing me.” “See, that’s what I mean.” Dylan was grinning. “You’re blushing. And that just makes you even hotter.” “Oh, geez.” Sebastian rolled his eyes, but didn’t protest in 122
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the least when Dylan lowered his mouth to his and kissed him until he was breathless…and hot all over again. “Wanna watch the sunrise with me?” Dylan asked, his eyes sparkling. “Is it sunrise already?” He glanced over at the window where, sure enough, behind the sheers he could see the sky growing light. Dylan climbed off the bed, his muscles flexing in mouthwatering perfection, and the beautiful, elaborate tattoos on his back looking like art in motion. He opened the sheers, then switched off the light next to the bed. When he returned, he propped a pillow behind him and rested his back against the headboard. Sebastian turned around and leaned back into Dylan’s embrace. The clouds and storms of the night had passed, and in the cool gray light of dawn, they could see the first pink-tinged fingers of sunrise spreading over the treetops. “I don’t have to ask what you’re wearing this morning,” Dylan said, his warm breath teasing over Sebastian’s ear, and his even warmer palm sliding down to capture Sebastian’s already half-erect cock. Sebastian turned in his arms and scraped a nail over one of Dylan’s nipples. “You never did tell me whether or not I earned that A plus. And I really like to get good grades.” Dylan’s lascivious smile turned Sebastian’s insides to mush and started a deep-down tingling buzz in all the places that felt the best. “Oh, Mr. Keller, you have a shot at the honor roll if you 123
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keep it up.” He pushed Dylan down onto the bed and straddled him, then took a long, slow lick around Dylan’s swollen, twitching cockhead. “Want me to show you how smart I am? ’Cause we haven’t even gotten to the extra credit yet.” Dylan’s eyes glazed over. “Oh, shit… I really love you.” Sebastian smiled. “I know.” Then he set to work showing Dylan just how good he really was.
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M. L. RHODES
Award-winning and bestselling author M. L. Rhodes has been writing for a living for nearly thirteen years. Along with the erotic romance fiction she currently writes for Amber Quill Press, she’s also published everything from poetry, to magazine articles, to traditional romance, to steamy romantic suspense novels. In her fiction works, her characterization and emotional storytelling have received high critical acclaim from such places as Romantic Times Magazine, The Romance Studio, and JERR and have garnered her numerous awards in the writing industry. In her gay romances, she enjoys pairing together strong, independent heroes who are open to exploring both their sexuality and their emotions. Men fall in love with one another every day, and M. L. believes in celebrating that. If you’d like to keep up with what’s going on in M. L.’s world and find out about her new and upcoming releases, surf on over to her website at www.mlrhodeswriting.com. She also loves hearing from readers. You can reach her at
[email protected].
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Don’t miss True of Heart (Book I of The Draegan Lords), by M. L. Rhodes, available at AmberAllure.com! A hundred years ago, the high sorcerer of Velensperia launched a swift and deadly attack against the draegans—a race of dragon shapeshifters who’d always lived in harmony with the humans. The draegans were all but destroyed, with the few who remained scattered and in hiding. Now, a group of them have united and begun to fight back. Their leader, Keiran Hareldson, seeks to free his people from the cruel repression the high sorcerer’s reign has imposed on them. Gaige Rizik is captain of the sorcerer’s High Guard, and known for his lethal ability to hunt down his prey with no remorse. His orders are to infiltrate the draegan rebels’ camp, learn their plans, and identify their leader so he can be destroyed. But when Gaige joins the rebels, posing as a human sympathizer to the draegans’ cause, he discovers the shapeshifters aren’t the bloodthirsty beasts he’s been led to believe, and their leader is a passionately captivating man who only wants what’s best for his people. Keiran sparks powerful emotions in Gaige, tearing down his walls of steely control, and stirring a longing in him he can’t deny. Torn between his duty to the high sorcerer and his growing feelings not only for Keiran, but for the draegan way of life, Gaige knows he’s damned no matter which side he chooses. In
a world of lies, deception, and dark secrets, one false move will bring destruction to all he’s begun to hold dear. With the fate of so many lives on his shoulders, Gaige’s only hope is to follow his heart…and pray it’s true enough to save them all.
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