When my eyes make it back to his face, he’s smiling a smile that exudes confidence, ease, and anything but fear or anger. “Let’s go downstairs to change,” Chase announces and bends to grab his clothes. As I do the same he adds, “If we stay up here in this cold night air, that view your enjoying will all but disappear.”
I almost cough. Yeah. He’s definitely not straight.
I follow him down the stairs and as his feet hit the wood floor of his bedroom, he tosses his clothes onto his bed and turns very abruptly to face me. I’m still on the last step, which makes me slightly taller than him. He looks up at me, his blue eyes that seemed so light in the bar are as dark as Lake Champlain at midnight now. “I wish you could stay a little longer.”
“I do too,” I admit. He steps closer and his hands come up. All ten of his fingertips land on my torso, splayed out across my ribs like he’s bracing me, or about to push me backwards or something. Honestly, I don’t care what he does next, I just love the shiver of lust that fills me at the feel of his skin against mine. He does neither though. Instead, he lets his fingertips slip down my wet stomach, across my abs, his two index fingers tracing the trail of dark blond hair that leads down past the waistband of my underwear. But sadly, the journey ends at the elastic barrier and he tips his head up to meet my eyes. “We should get you some dry underwear.”
And then he’s gone. Moving away from me so quickly that my cock jerks in protest, or to run away with him. Probably the latter. I step off the bottom stair and dry myself off as best I can while waiting for Chase to reappear from the walk-in closet he went into.
I’m pulling my T-shirt – well, actually Jax’s T-shirt – over my head when Chase reappears. The towel he had around his neck is now wrapped around his waist. He stops near the foot of the bed and tosses something at me. I catch the black fabric easily. “They’re clean, I swear, and better than driving home in cold, damp underwear.”
I hold up the boxer-briefs. “Thanks. My brother would probably want to know why the crotch of my pants were drenched.”
“No one needs to know,” he says quietly. “Anyway, I’ll let you change in private.”
Despite his words he doesn’t move. And honestly, if he stays in this room while I take off my underwear, I’ll end up bailing on my brother, I know it. And I shouldn’t. But yet, I’m walking over to stand in front of him anyway. We’re chest-to-chest. His is still wet, water droplets cling to the smattering of dark hair across his pecs. I know it’s dampening the shirt I just put on, but fuck it. “I’m glad you invited me.”
“I’m glad you came,” Chase replies. “I just wish you could have come too.”
The double entendre rocks me in the best possible way. And now I’m pretty sure no one in this room is just half hard anymore. I have never had a night like this, and I may never have one again. I’ve learned life can turn on a dime, and not to put things off because tomorrow may never come. So, I tilt my head and bring my lips to his. He responds immediately with the shameless confidence he has shown in everything tonight from his stage presence to his party-hosting skills.
His mouth opens as both hands reach up and grab my face, fingers tangling in the hair by my temples. He parts his lips and my tongue is met eagerly by his own, creating a tornado of desire that swirls through me. When I slip my arms around his waist and grab his ass, he pushes his hips into mine and our cocks brush, barely. The wet fabric of my underwear and the thick terry cloth of his towel are my worst enemies right now. I have half the urge to yank that towel off him but honestly, the kiss is so consuming that I just let it take over. Chase’s mouth moves with passion, and his tongue with abandon. He’s so dominant and wildly needy at the same time, I’m fucking swooning. And when it ends, I almost whimper.
“Wish this could be more,” he pants, stepping away from me, because we both need distance or thiswillbe more.
“So do I,” I admit. “Maybe next time?”
“I don’t really…” Chase pauses and stops walking backwards, coming to a stop just in front of the open bathroom door. His smile flickers, almost disappearing, before it comes back as strong as ever. “Never say never.”
He seems… not quite insincere but something equally as unwelcome. But I don’t have time to figure out why. Woody will call again if I’m late.
“I’ll let you get changed,” Chase says, and his wide, strong hands reach for the front of his towel. It drops to the ground. He’s not wearing those wet white boxer briefs anymore. He’s not wearing anything but a mighty fine hard on. “I need a shower. Is it okay if I let you show yourself out?”
“Yeah. I’ll manage,” I say and a little groan of regret escapes as well. I feel like this is the end of something before it even began. Fuck Woody’s constant, unwavering pledge to save the environment. If he didn’t give a shit, he would own a car and would have driven himself into town today. That’s how much I want this guy. For the first time in my life, I’m annoyed with my brother for caring about global warming.
With a final smile, Chase disappears into the bathroom. I drop my wet briefs and put on his dry ones, shoving my aching, hard cock inside as I whisper, “Sorry buddy.”
I finish dressing and as I hear the shower water running, I make my way downstairs. As I’m grabbing my coat I notice a pen and notebook on a small table by the window. There’s yet another acoustic guitar in the corner. Alexa is still playing. Now it’s Foo Fighters. I grab the pen and flip open the notebook. It’s filled with neatly printed… poetry? No. Lyrics. Song lyrics. Original, I think because I don’t recognize any of them, but they’re beautiful. I feel like I’ve suddenly intruded, so I flip to the very back, to the last blank page, and quickly scrawl my name and phone number.
I’m not looking for a relationship. I never am. It’s not that I don’t want one, I do. I’ve just got so much going on right now that I don’t have time to find one. But maybe one just found me? And yeah, they want me to play in the band again, and know they can find me at the bar, but I want Chase to know he can reach out whenever. For whatever.
I carefully tear the page from the back of the book and walk over and leave it on his kitchen island before heading out the door. Because that kiss is worth repeating.
4
BOWEN
“You know you could always ask to work on the book side,” Autumn is suggesting as the Vermont scenery flies by outside the car. Spring has definitely sprung and everything is turning from brown to green — the fields, the trees, the bushes. My mom used to say that was part of what convinced her to move to Vermont from California before we were born, the ability to watch nature change. California, she used to quip, had two seasons, smog and fire.
“Books are your thing,” I remind her.
“Well, serving definitely isn’t your thing,” Autumn surmises and a devious little smile plays on her lips. She’s speaking the truth, not teasing, but the smile says she takes a wee bit of delight in it just the same. “And neither is bar back. Or bartender.”
“I could probably do that pretty well, but Tanner’s afraid to try me out,” I reply as the houses on either side of the car grow closer together, signifying we’re on the edge of Burlington.
“I’d say he isn’t afraid, he’s just… cautious.”
“Thanks Autumn. That’s so much better.” I roll my eyes.
