Page 6

“Dammit.” Carson leaned over, plucking at his shirt to shake free any unabsorbed droplets.

He jerked his head around to look, seeing a man standing only a couple of feet away, a wry smile pulling his lips to one side. He felt oddly familiar, the features of his face and curl of his lips teasing at Carson’s memories. He stared, but like an elusive word poised on the tip of a tongue, Carson finally gave up, accepting that this wasn’t someone he’d been introduced to. Yet.

“Startled me.” Carson laughed nervously as fingertips brushed across his chest a final time, the chill of the dampened fabric making him shiver.

“I’d like to do a lot more to you.”

The straightforward comment made Carson blink, and he couldn’t shift his gaze from the man, committed to identifying him and still falling short of the mark. I don’t know him, he admitted to himself. Instead, Carson made do with cataloging every visible aspect of the man, which didn’t come close to satisfying that tiny itch in his head that said they were acquainted.

Pale with dark hair and finely honed nose and cheekbones, he could have looked frail or effeminate, but instead those features were balanced by a broad jaw shadowed with enough scruff to be masculine. His lips were reddened, and Carson saw a flash of white teeth as the man smiled crookedly again, eyes crinkling at the corners with the change of expression.

Belatedly, Carson realized his silence was the source of amusement for the man, and he angled his head with a muttered “Excuse me?”

“I didn’t mean to startle you.”

For a moment, Carson was uncertain if this was a second declaration or a restatement of what the man had actually said. He replayed the two sentences through his brain, turning them over and around on repeat. Then it didn’t matter—nothing mattered when the man leaned closer, and Carson caught a drifting scent that reminded him of home, and love.

Mesmerized, his mind filled with impressions of being comfortably safe, the happy murmur of shared conversations, and superb sex. Ah, God. Glorious sex, the hard-pounding kind that left a person shaking and panting for long minutes at a time, chest hitching as drying sweat slowly cooled overheated skin. The kind of orgasm that left him needing to be held tight by his partner, blanketed by their weight as he shattered apart and came down from shared euphoric heights. Sex that made him need the other person, holding moments spent together in awe as if their presence were a carnal requirement stronger than his next breath, a compulsion that pushed until he couldn’t wait to get his hands on them again, and again.

Something so addictive a man would be hard-pressed to leave it behind, even if the sacrifice were demanded of him. A memory of himself in front of the bathroom mirror flashed through his mind, fingers scratching and pressing along the hinge of his jaw, needing to feel that tiny flash of pain just one more time.

He shook his head, the movement breaking their locked gaze, a connection he immediately missed like a severed limb. Freeing himself from the thoughts took physical effort, and he strained to slow his heart rate, measuring each breath by the burn in his lungs. He gasped a final time, stared fixedly away from the man, and spoke into the dead space surrounding him. “I gotta go.” It sounded as if he was talking to himself, and he supposed he was. As intoxicating as the smell was, it had also triggered a flight response, and if there was one thing Carson listened to, it was his gut. “Sorry.”

The man moved in front of him, and, suddenly lightheaded, Carson pressed a palm to the wall behind him, needing the support for his unsteady knees. “Have a good night.”

Disappointment flashed across the man’s face, but he lowered his eyes to the bottle of water in Carson’s hand before lifting them to trap Carson again. When their gazes connected, it was as if a physical snare tripped into place, holding Carson securely. “Finish your drink.”

Without breaking their renewed stare, Carson tipped the bottle up and drained it until the plastic again crumpled in his grip.

The man flashed that crooked grin a final time and leaned close, hand wrapping around Carson’s, hot fingers plucking the empty bottle away. For a moment in time, Carson held his breath, not wanting to become any drunker on the man’s scent than he already felt. Close to his ear, the murmur strangely familiar, the man said, “Be careful going home, Carson.”

Then he was gone, and Carson’s friends appeared in front of him as if he’d summoned them with his panic to get away from the dark-haired man. Glassy-eyed, they stared at him and waited.

“Are you ready to go?”

Two silent nods followed by his internal What the fuck? didn’t lend any insight into what had just happened.

***

Mathias

Carson walked away, looking neither to the right nor the left, his stride much steadier than those of his companions. The overwhelming sensation of ownership did not flag, accompanied as it was by the thrill of discovering his boy here, tonight, riding along the ridge of need and desire inside him. Without looking away, he quietly asked, “Did you know he was mine?”

“Of course I did, Matti.” Gina’s voice was filled with amusement, and those tightly controlled but trilling undertones made her words pleasant to hear. “Why else would I have brought him inside?”

“His friends?” He didn’t need to finish the question; she already knew what he asked.

“Lightly, lightly. Nothing to worry about.” She slipped closer, near enough to touch, and leaned her head as if to place it on his shoulder. She stopped before actually making contact, standing there as if poised for something, a marionette awaiting the pull of a puppeteer’s strings. “You’ve miscalculated, methinks.”

“I don’t miscalculate.” Not a boast—Mathias simply stated facts as he saw them. “Haven’t, not for a long, long time.”

“Did you expect him to show? That’s your boy, right? The one who’s dragged you from us time and time again?” Gina’s words implied annoyance, but her tone was light and carefree. Mathias didn’t bother to figure out which was real. She was a master at hiding her true meaning. “He came looking, didn’t he? Are you sure you’re on the right track, brother?”

Carson and his friends disappeared into the crowd, but Mathias followed his track, unerringly tracing the path Carson’s rabbiting heart cleared ahead of his feet. “Does Ezekiel know?”

He angled his shoulder in invitation, and Gina finally relaxed against him, the comfortable and known weight of her easy to support. Her nod rustled dark locks against his clothing, and he allowed himself a single, deep breath, the scent of Carson still strong enough to go to his head if Mathias wanted. He did, and didn’t, and hated the sense of unease that thought gave him.

“Did you eat, lovely one?” Another nod, and Mathias reached up to cradle her cool cheek, gauging the temperature like a mother would. “Not enough. You should find another tonight. Maybe two.” He glanced around at the shabby illusions. I should spend more time tutoring. “We can’t do it up this way often.”