Acrobat (20 page)

“That’s a terrible thing to do with those women, get their hopes up.”

“I took them out; they were wined and dined. I promise you, they had a good time. And besides, not getting to sleep with me is no great tragedy.”

I shivered slightly. “I beg to disagree.”

The grunt was all male, very smug, more a growl than anything else. I had to be careful or I would create a monster.

“I just meant—”

“That you liked what we just did right here on your bathroom floor.”

“Yes.”

“Me too,” he said, moving my legs, wrapping them around his waist, pressing me closer, tighter. “Which is why I don’t sleep with women.”

I nodded.

“And why,” he said with a sigh, tracing his fingers down my spine, “until you tell me to go, you will be the only one I will be doing this with.”

I wasn’t sure where to go with that. “I wouldn’t ask that of you.”

“You should.”

“I have no right to—”

“Yes, you do,” he assured me. “As I will ask it of you… only me.”

There were a million things running through my head, the least of all that this was fast, much too fast, but then I took a breath and my brain kicked in.

He wasn’t confessing his undying love; he just wanted a chance to see if this could happen. I wanted that too. And we weren’t strangers; I’d known the man for four years.

“
Sono pazzo di te
,” he whispered, leaning forward, mouth on the hollow of my throat, his tongue licking before he took a bite of me and sucked.

The whipcrack of sizzling heat ran up my back, and I jolted in his arms.

“Tell me you are crazy about me too…
tesoro
…
caro
….”

His mouth and his hands and the rock-hard thighs under my legs, the silky glide of his skin over mine, the muscles flexing to hold me, all of it was so new and so utterly craved. Normally, because I was older, my lovers looked to me to set the ground rules, but not this time. This was different. It already felt like it was going in a wholly new direction. I was terrified and excited and already invested in the outcome. Because I wasn’t just taking a lover, I was broadening an existing friendship and becoming responsible for a child. A sixteen-year-old boy who already counted on me and trusted me was in the mix.

“Nate.”

My wandering thoughts returned to the man who held me in his arms.

“I don’t need words more than this once, but I—”

“What you need doesn’t matter to me,” I told him, shifting my angle, rising up, and unlocking my legs. Knees on the rug on both sides of his hips, I pressed my bare chest to his, my hands on his face, tracing over his jaw, captivated by his upper lip and the bridge of his nose. “I will tell you things like that, that we just did, you and me… was amazing, and I can’t wait to do it again. I will tell you that I hope you want to sleep in bed with me, because lying beside a lover is one of the great joys of my life. And finally, I would like nothing better than to see what this right here can become. I would love it.”

“You would?” He seemed so pleased, his eyes wet and dark and filled with happiness.

“Yes.”

His smile did the most amazing things to his face, making him a completely different man.

“I’m glad you’re out of the business you were in with Mr. Romelli.”

“So am I. So is Sal,” he said, his eyes fluttering for a second. “And Sal knows about me and knows what I want with you, so he and I are good.”

“You lost me.”

His gaze was steady as he stared into my eyes. “I don’t like secrets, so I had to tell Sal the truth, that I wanted this with you.”

“But you never told me what you wanted.”

“Now you know.”

I smiled when I felt his hands clutch at my ass.

“Do you know what I want?”

“No.”

“I want to come inside of you and see it leaking out.” He moaned softly, the sound of his breathing and the look on his face both telling me how badly he wanted that. “I went to get tested, and when I get the results back, when you can see I’m good, can I do that? Will you let me?”

“Maybe I want to fuck you,” I said, even as his fingers slid down my crease and I bucked back into his hand.

He laughed, and it was deep and rumbling, warm and sexy. “I think you want me back inside of you bad.”

No games, I never played them. “Yes,” I confessed, dropping my head forward into his shoulder, loving his scent, his sleek olive skin, the sweat and salt.

He exhaled long and deep and just hugged me, content, it seemed, not to move.

“We should get up,” I said finally. “Michael’s probably out there absolutely scarred for life. I’m sorry I yelled—I couldn’t help it.”

“I like that you lost control.” He smiled, hands on my face. “And Michael is still at home. I told him I had to talk to you alone for a few minutes and I would call him when we were done.”

I stared. “Is this what you had in mind?”

“Actually, no,” he said, standing up, dragging me to my feet after him. “I did have things to say.”

“Like?” I asked, watching him as he leaned into my shower and turned it on.

“Like, would you consider giving us a chance?”

“But I already said yes to that.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s a lot easier to get the guts to ask it after sex.”

My smile was huge, and he made a sound in the back of his throat before he bent and kissed me. That he had to grab me, crush me against him and ravish my mouth, was hotter than I could have imagined. I would have to get used to bearing marks and bruises and found the idea very appealing. Men were normally careful with me; Dreo was too hungry to care. I loved it.

“Jesus,” he snapped, shoving me into the shower and closing the door. “We’re never gonna get out of this damn bathroom if I don’t leave you alone.”

“I don’t mind.” I chuckled, hearing his growl as I turned under the water and soaped up quickly.

“You will when you’re too sore to move.”

“I’ll take that chance.” I sighed, rinsing off and stepping back out, shaking my head, letting the drops of water hit him.

He reached for me, hand in my wet hair, made a fist, and dragged me close for another kiss. The sound I made pleased him, as was evident from his mouth slanting down over mine.

Getting out of the bathroom didn’t seem to be in the cards.

M
ICHAEL
got tired of waiting, walked over to my apartment, and told us to get the hell out to the living room and watch TV with him. He was demanding and loud. I was charmed completely.

He sat between us, much to Dreo’s annoyance, as the flannel pajama bottoms and long-sleeved T-shirt I was wearing were, he said, the sexiest things he had ever seen in his life.

“You need to get out more,” I whispered before I got up to make hot chocolate.

He followed me into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as he watched me get out a small saucepan to heat the milk.

“You don’t just put some water in the microwave?”

I looked at him over my shoulder. “Real hot chocolate isn’t made that way.”

“What way?”

“With water.”

He nodded, his eyes raking over me from head to toe.

“Seriously,” I teased. “Flannel pajamas are not hot.”

“Says you.”

I swallowed down my heart, concentrating on the task at hand instead of the blood rushing to my groin. How had I ever missed that the man was drop-dead gorgeous? I wanted to lick him all over.

“You’re all flushed.”

Because I was about to go up in flames.

“It’s adorable.”

“I’d prefer it was sexy.”

“Oh, it’s that too.”

Jesus.

Once I was done and sprinkling the cinnamon on top of the whipped cream that I knew Michael loved, I told Dreo to carry the mug into the living room for me.

“I want to talk about what clothes you think are a turn-on instead,” he murmured, his breath on the back of my neck giving me goose bumps.

“I just… there’s leather chaps and thongs and all kinds of things out there, Mr. Fiore.”

His hand smoothing down my ass made me lean forward and close my eyes. It had only been three weeks since my last nameless encounter with a guy I picked up at a friend’s party, but I had topped, as the guy expected me to, as I normally did because I was not comfortable being dominated by a stranger. As I had not been the one submitting, the one trusting, it had been okay but not great. I had not bottomed since Duncan.

I had to know a man, be comfortable and confident, before I let someone inside of me. Even though I loved it, craved it, being filled and stretched, I just didn’t have the faith that my friends did to offer that gift to a stranger. All of my relationships had started the same way, with me in control, me being the one dominating another man. Even Duncan and I had begun with him facedown on his bed. But this… this was already different. It already felt closer because of the foundation of friendship that was there to begin with. And Dreo was so confident, so passionate, so utterly secure, that saying no never even entered my mind. He wouldn’t hurt me. Not physically, not mentally, not emotionally. He saw me, amazing as it seemed, like a treasure that he could not believe his good fortune in getting a chance to have. The look in his eyes was carnal heat and awe all rolled up together. There was no doubt in my mind that the man wanted me and more. He was dying to see where it could go.

So because there had been the domination I craved, what I enjoyed most in bed, about bed, when the man slid his hand over my ass, I lost it just a little.

I let out a hiss of breath and pushed back against him.

“Come get in your bed with me,” he pleaded, sliding his hardening cock against the crease of my ass.

“We have Michael.”

“Michael will be fine on the couch alone.”

The man just annihilated me.

“
Mi piaci da morire
,” he whispered against my ear, his breath warm and his lips soft and wet as they grazed my skin.

“What did you say?” I asked. I felt twenty-five instead of forty-five whenever Dreo had his hands on me.

“I said I like you a little.” He chuckled, his voice husky and low.

“You’re lying,” I accused him, my body calming down. I eased free of his hands, walking backward into the refrigerator. It was a testament to how big and solid it was that it didn’t rattle when he pinned me against it seconds later. “You said you’re crazy about me.”

He didn’t contradict the statement, came after me instead, hand splayed beside me on the stainless steel surface, making sure I couldn’t move again.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Fuck if I know,” he said, eyes fixed on mine. “I just—I love my nephew, but I really wish he would go to bed. I need to talk to you.”

“You don’t want to talk to me.” I chuckled, seeing the way he was looking down my body before he leaned forward, wedging his thigh between mine.

“No,” he growled, his voice thick. “Not really.”

“Hey.”

His eyes flicked back to mine.

“We’re going to try, right?” I asked, smiling. “Isn’t that what we said?”

He nodded.

“We don’t have to talk,” I assured him. “We’ll just start and hope for the best.”

“Not hope. We’ll work hard at it.”

I put a hand on his chest, and he covered it with his own. “Yes. Now take that cup to Michael.”

We joined the teenager on the couch as an old favorite,
The 36th Chamber of Shaolin,
came on.

“Is this a good one?” Dreo asked.

Both Michael and I did the slow pan to him like he was insane.

“Jesus.” His eyes got big. “What did I say?”

“You’ve never seen this?” Michael was flabbergasted.

“Seriously?” I asked.

“There are good kung fu movies besides
Enter The Dragon
?”

“For starters,” Michael said, indignantly, “
Enter The Dragon
is
not
a kung fu movie. It completely transcends that label. You understand that without
Enter The Dragon
there would be no
Mortal Kombat
or
Tekken
or—”

“Yes, Christ, I get it,” Dreo groaned. “But we’re not talking about that.” He gestured at the TV. “What is this?”

“You’re serious.” I looked at him in mock wonder. “You’ve never seen
The 36th Chamber of Shaolin
?”

“I think I’ll live.”

I grunted.

He made a noise in the back of his throat as the three of us settled to watch one of the greatest kung fu movies ever made.

“You know the two of you are completely—”

“Shhh,” we both hushed him at the same time.

It was obvious he thought we were being ridiculous.

I must have dropped off at some point, because when I woke up, I had my head on Dreo’s chest and his hand was in my hair, massaging my scalp.

“Hey,” he said softly, sighing deeply.

“Where’s Michael?” I asked, groggy with sleep, lifting up only to realize that I was basically in his lap, draped over him.

He tipped his head, and I saw that his nephew was asleep on the other end of the couch. Dreo and I were cuddled up together on the right.

I leaned away from him, rubbing my eyes as he smiled. “I’m sorry. We both passed out after we told you how good the movie was.

“It doesn’t matter; the movie wasn’t the important part.”

I just looked at him, still half-asleep.

“I enjoyed being here with you both more than anything,” he told me, his hand sliding around the nape of my neck and easing me back to him. He tipped my chin up with his other hand. “This was right; it felt right.”

He wasn’t making any sense, but when he drew me forward, his lips sliding over mine, our mouths notching together so perfectly, I forgot what I was going to say.

“Stay—” He kissed me. “—here. Stop moving away.”

“Should I get in your lap?” I teased, still groggy.

“Oh yeah.”

His voice, the rumble in it, the break it did, all hoarse and wicked, was so hot I could not stifle the moan.

His hands on my skin, up under the T-shirt, sliding over my stomach, my hips, down inside my pajamas, on my ass, made me whine into his mouth. The kiss was wet and hard and deep, and our lips slid together, mashed and mauled, sucked and nibbled with breathing occurring only in hurried gasps. The mewling sound that came from way down in my chest made his breath catch. Only when Michael stirred did we push apart, both of us panting, staring at each other.