Frowning, Cameron pushed himself up from the thick, leather cushions and took a few cautious steps. “Yeah, okay.” Asher definitely looked like he could use a breather. “Did something else happen?” As he rounded the sofa, he slowed, his footsteps heavy and measured. “What did Oz—?”
“Cameron.” Asher held his hand out and stared pointedly until Cameron took it. “Just come with me. Please.”
Cameron nodded.
Hands clasped, fingers linked, Asher led him through the den, past the kitchen, and down the short hallway to the base of the stairs in the foyer. As they climbed the staircase to the second-floor landing, the sounds of conversation faded away, leaving only their own muffled steps against the carpet to interrupt the quiet. It wasn’t until they were inside the master suite with the door closed firmly behind them that Asher finally turned to him with a tired, weary expression.
“Are you okay?” Asher asked. Worry and guilt bled into every syllable, and the muscles in his back and shoulders were so tense he hunched forward as he spoke.
It was on the tip of Cameron’s tongue to offer a dismissive, “I’m fine,” but he quelled the instinct and took a moment to really consider the question. He was nervous for Asher, angry on his behalf, and frustrated that he couldn’t do more to help. There was no crystal ball that would let him see into the future, but the way Luke had described it, the next few weeks were going to be a nightmare.
His routines would be disrupted. His life would be subjected to public scrutiny. Every detail of his relationship with Asher would be held under a microscope. So, was heokay? No, not really, but that wasn’t what Asher needed to hear.
“I don’t think everything has really set in yet,” he offered, carefully choosing each word. “I think once we meet with the PR rep and have a plan, it won’t feel so big and scary.”
The right corner of Asher’s mouth twitched, and some of the tightness around his eyes relaxed. “Is that your way of saying you’re freaking out?”
Dragging his fingers through his hair, he leaned against the end of the four-poster bed and sighed. “No. It’s my way of saying that I really do think we’ll both feel better once we have a plan.”
“Liar.” Asher’s mouth curved into a small grin as he smoothed Cameron’s hair back into place. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” His knuckles grazed down Cameron’s cheek and traced the curve of his jaw. “Tell me how to make this better.”
“Stop.” Closing the short distance between them, he rested his hand on Asher’s hip and leaned into him. “None of this is your fault. You didn’t ask for this.”
He hadn’t asked to be kicked out of his house at fourteen. He hadn’t wanted Mitchell Faraday to abuse him. He hadn’t agreed to let some gossip blogger out him to the world. He hadn’t sought out Kyle Anders and insisted that the guy harass and blackmail him.
None of that mattered, though. The news outlets couldn’t stop talking about the Mitchell Faraday trial or the role that Asher had played in sending him to prison. No one seemed to care that Asher had been a scared teenager or that it had all taken place over a decade ago. In only a few hours, reporters had found ways to twist the facts and spin the story into something new and scandalous.
He could only imagine how much worse it would be by morning.
“You didn’t ask for this, either.” Asher’s deep, amber eyes creased at the corners before he rubbed a hand over his face. “Fuck, I don’t know how this happened.”
“Landon Dwyer is a fucking pig who profits off the misfortune of others. That’s how this happened.”
He didn’t even try to hide his bitterness. What should have been a little fun between consenting adults with a cordial parting of ways had turned into a complete nightmare. He didn’t know how Landon and Kyle had found each other, and honestly, the logistics didn’t matter. Kyle had a story to tell, and Landon, it seemed, was willing to help him tell it.
Surprisingly, Asher began to chuckle, and this time, it actually sounded genuine. “He’s a blogger, Cam. He writes about affairs and divorces. The vegan actor caught eating fish.” His tone was flippant, and he waved his hands around as he spoke. “The socialite without a cause tosupport. The musician who doesn’t write his own songs.” Pausing, he cupped the side of Cameron’s face and traced his lips with the pad of his thumb. “The mystery writer who really likes dick.”
When put that way, it sounded perfectly reasonable. Cameron didn’t want to be reasonable. “I get what you’re saying, but don’t.” He huffed dramatically as he took a step back, breaking the contact between them. “Just let me hate him. Let me be mad for a little while.”
Asher grinned. “Okay, but don’t take too long. I’m going to jump in the shower to get this baby oil off, and I was kind of hoping you’d join me.”
There was no heat in his voice, though. No fire burning in the depths of his eyes. The cocksure attitude he’d displayed while strutting around the house in nothing more than a loincloth had dissolved, replaced by feeble witticism and forced glibness.
Cameron followed anyway.
Inside the master bathroom, he took his time undressing while Asher reached into the glass shower stall to start the water. Cameron had seen similar enclosures in hotels before, but he’d never understood the appeal. An opening slightly wider than a doorway led into the shower. Just an opening with no door or curtain, so that there was always a slight chill against whatever side of his body faced that direction.
The oversized showerhead was nice, though, as were the smooth river rocks that lined the floor and walls. The heated tiles between the double vanity and the soaking tub had to be one of his favorite features, and he definitely needed to invest in a towel warmer for his own bathroom.
“Are you okay?”
“Hmm?” Prying his unfocused gaze from the floor, Cameron blinked up at Asher. “Yeah,” he answered dazedly, raking his gaze down the man’s body. “I’m okay.”
It didn’t matter how often he’d seen Asher naked. Every time felt like the first, and he always needed a moment to catch his breath. Shuffling toward the shower, he drank in the sight of all that naturally bronzed skin on display. Asher wasn’t overly muscular, but what he did have was beautifully defined as if expertly carved from marble.
It didn’t matter that the media was practically crawling all over the front lawn. He didn’t care that people were downstairs waiting for them. His traitorous body responded the way it always did. His pulse raced, his breathing turned shallow, and every ounce of blood drained to his swollen cock.
“Are you coming?” Asher asked before stepping beneath the spray of water.
