“I never agreed to their bet, but had already decided to be someone different for the weekend. Who would it hurt? I’d be with people who didn’t know the real me. I could be a totally new Zach. Someone who wasn’t afraid to take risks; someone willing to have fun and be daring.” He looked down at his lap. “Someone people would notice.”
None of this made sense to Sam. “But why? You’re a young, incredibly rich, good-looking guy. Why do you think you need to pretend? Any guy would be lucky to be with you.”
The compliment didn’t bring a smile of thanks or even a blush of self-awareness. Zach’s expression grew gloomier, and he stood, then walked to the windows.
“Perceptions rarely mirror truths. What you see isn’t how I see it, and it isn’t how most people have seen me all my life. I’ve never been confident about anything, except my abilities in school. And when you’re ten and never picked for sports or thirteen and never invited to any parties, a pattern is set for the adult you’ll be. The one on the sidelines; always there but never seen. When you’re an invisible kid, you tend to grow up to be an invisible adult.”
How wrong he’d been about Zach from the beginning. And knowing how sweet and kind a soul he was, Sam hurt for the young boy Zach had been and the sad and lonely man who stood before him.
“Is that how you see yourself—invisible?” Sam followed him to the window and placed a hand on his shoulder but made no other move.
“It’s how I’ve always been. Marcus always tried to include me, but—”
“You know what?” Sam slid his arm around Zach, turning him so that they faced each other. “You think too much about Marcus.” Sam took Zach’s glasses off and placed them carefully on the table. “You talk too much about him too. Want to know what I see?”
Zach blinked and nodded.
“I see a guy who’s kind, smart, and tenacious. A man who isn’t afraid to search out what he wants and go after it.” Sam leaned down and brushed Zach’s lips with his own, smiling at the sigh of pleasure from Zach. He pulled off his tee shirt and unbuttoned Zach’s shirt so their bare chests pressed against each other. Sam pushed Zach’s shirt off his shoulders so it fell to the floor, then slid his hand up Zach’s back, as warm and soft as he remembered. His fingers splayed out against skin, muscles, and bones, and he held Zach close. It was as if his hands were made to touch Zach. The feel of his skin was everything right and perfect.
“Don’t ever pretend with me; there’s no reason to. I’m not interested in someone who hangs out at the clubs and parties all night.” He buried his lips in Zach’s hair, his hands smoothing down the curvature of Zach’s spine until he dipped his fingers to gently touch below the waistband of Zach’s jeans.
Zach groaned, his harsh breath hot against Sam’s shoulder. His breathing grew more erratic when Sam continued to play along the top of the waistband of Zach’s jeans, dipping a finger down to flirt with the crease of his ass, while rubbing their denim-covered erections against each other.
Sam framed Zach’s face between his hands and kissed his lips softly at first, then with increasing urgency, plunging his tongue deep inside Zach’s mouth. It was as hot and sweet as Sam remembered, but now there was more; a renewal of hope that there was more to come. More than simply sex.
Zach curled his hand around Sam’s neck, and their kisses grew more passionate and desperate. Sam forgot his best intentions of taking things slow, of learning more about Zach before jumping back into bed. They disappeared once Zach’s soft lips, moving warm against his own, parted, and his tongue slid inside Sam’s mouth, twisting, tangling, searching for Sam’s.
His hands trembling a bit, Sam popped the button tab on Zach’s shorts and drew them down, along with Zach’s boxers. With his hands braced on Sam’s shoulders, Zach stepped out of his flip-flops, then kicked off his clothes, the dark, hungry expression in his eyes never faltering. Sam’s breath quickened at the sight of Zach’s well-hung cock, flushed red before him; more perfect than he remembered in his dreams. Any resolve Sam clung to vanished under the wave of desire crashing over him, enflaming every nerve ending under his skin. Sam slid down to his knees and holding on to Zach’s hips, took Zach’s cock in his mouth and sucked it down.
The first sharp taste of Zach burst hot against his tongue. “Oh God,” moaned Zach, widening his stance and clutching the windowsill behind him. “Sam, God, please.”
With one hand Sam held on to the base of Zach’s cock and sucked at the crown, swirling his tongue first around the edges, then flicking at the tiny slit. Zach shivered and shook under Sam’s relentless stroking, licking, and sucking up and down the shaft, then back around to the head. His free hand gently caressed Zach’s thighs, then reached down to Zach’s balls, hefting first one and then the other. Sam’s finger glided back along the delicate skin of the perineum, and at that touch, Zach arched and cried out, shooting his hot, creamy essence into Sam’s mouth. He swallowed it all down, one hand resting lightly on Zach’s hip, the other holding the base of Zach’s cock until it softened and wetly slipped from his lips.
Their gasping breaths mingled with the twittering of the birds through the open windows, creating an oddly sensual melody. Sam ran his hands up Zach’s naked legs, relishing the crisp, wiry hair and tight muscles, before cupping his ass. He pressed his lips to the slant where hip bone met thigh and breathed deeply of Zach’s rich, masculine scent. At Zach’s sigh of pleasure, Sam glanced up, his own breath catching in his throat.
The picture of sated happiness, Zach’s head rested against the window; his heavy-lidded eyes and dreamy half-smile twisted Sam’s heart into a knot of uncertainty. He shouldn’t have succumbed so easily to physical pleasure; he’d never been a man ruled by his dick instead of his head, yet one smile from Zach or brush of his fingers and Sam’s brain short-circuited and fried his common sense.
“Sam?”
Zach’s tentative, questioning voice pulled Sam out of his introspection.
“Yeah?” He blinked Zach back into focus, his voice a bit harsher than it should be, considering he’d had his mouth on the man’s cock a minute ago. “What is it?” His tone a bit softer now, Sam stood up and stepped back from Zach, who must’ve felt the shift in his mood, judging by the slightly dismayed expression in his half-dazed eyes.
“Uhh, I’m going to put my clothes on first if you don’t mind.” There went that enticing blush again. Sam watched Zach’s cheeks heat pink as he slipped on his boxers and shorts. “I talk better when I’m not half-naked.” Zach slid his glasses on but didn’t look at Sam.
Was it possible Zach truly was as shy as he seemed? Sam found it—and Zach as a whole—rather endearing. His head hurt from all the thinking about Zach’s constant shifts in behavior. All he wanted was the truth. It shouldn’t be so hard.
A light breeze ruffled Zach’s hair and touched Sam’s cheeks with surprising coolness. Perhaps a summer storm was on its way; it would be a welcome cool-down from the humidity of the last two days. Somehow though, Sam didn’t think Zach wanted to talk about the weather. Curious, he waited for Zach to speak.
“Can we sit down?” Without waiting for an answer, Zach crossed the room and settled on the sofa. Careful not to get too close, Sam chose the club chair across from him, wishing like hell they didn’t have to go through this stage of mistrust. He wanted it to be like it had been back in Atlantic City: the easy interaction, the potential of what might be—the storm of passion pulsing higher between them.
Now that they sat facing one another Zach had grown mute, and Sam’s frustration escalated. He’d always been as straightforward in his personal life as he’d been as a cop; he’d never understood the point of skirting an issue.
“Well?” He raised a brow and folded his arms. “Are we going to talk, or is this it?”
Chapter Thirteen
Thoughitwas years later, the experience he carried from Nathan remained a tangible presence, clinging to him like a hard-to-peel eggshell, flaking off bit by bit to expose a ragged surface and an unhealthy core. It hadn’t occurred to Zach that his victimization was something he could shed like unwanted weight—that he could rise up against his aggressor and strike back. Zach had never been the type to assert himself and go against the crowd.
