Better Than Friends (10 page)

The landing at the top of the stairs seemed to serve as a viewpoint to check out the action below and escape the press of bodies. There were a few ottoman-style leather benches against the back wall, but the steel-and-wire balcony was obstacle-free. There was a couple making out on one of the benches; otherwise we had the space to ourselves.

“What do you think?” Jack stopped at the railing and let go of my hand as he peered down at the revelers below.

I leaned on the rail but turned to face Jack. Once again my imagination conjured him as a pirate or a ship’s captain overseeing his crew as he checked out the action. My inner desire to romanticize him was weird. I wondered why my head kept going there.

“It’s cool.” Jack flashed me a bemused look. I really needed to work on my repertoire of adjectives. “I mean… don’t take this the wrong way, but….”

“Oh boy. This oughta be good. Yes?” Jack folded his muscled arms over his impressive chest and waited for me to continue.

“Well, it’s just that… well, it seems like a lot of the other bars I’ve been to. Don’t get me wrong. I like it. In fact, I love the space and the contemporary-club vibe. I guess I thought there would be a different kind of element at work here, you know?”

Jack didn’t respond right away, so I looked over at him, wondering if I’d insulted him. I hadn’t meant to. The truth was that I like his place much better than I would have thought.

“What element would that be, exactly?” Jack’s voice was dripping with challenge. The question was posed in an almost uninterested tone, but I knew he was all ears.

“I don’t know. I guess the last time I was here, I was in and out so fast… well, my impression was there was more leather and, you know”—I shrugged like I talked about this stuff all the time—“more bondage types. Guys in harnesses and that sort of thing.”

I was looking down at the scene below. I expected Jack to comment, to tell me the crazy bondage-sex stuff came later, but he didn’t say a word. He wasn’t silent for long, though. His slow chuckle was just a buildup to a guffaw. He threw his head back as he held on to the steel railing and laughed as though I’d told him the funniest joke ever.

“What is so damn funny?”

“I… I’m not laugh—” He tried valiantly to get himself under control before he continued. “I’m not laughing at you. Okay, fine. I am. But, honey… bondage? Where did you get that idea?”

“Well, everyone is wearing leather and—”

“You don’t get out much, do you?”

“Fuck off. I know I’m not wrong to associate leather with bondage… so enlighten me, asshole. Why am I totally off base assuming that a guy like you who wears leather, is covered in tattoos, and even rides a motorcycle would also be interested in sadomasochistic stuff?”

“You have to be kidding. You’re telling me you can take one look at someone and, based on what they’re wearing, you know how they like it in the bedroom?” His expression now was incredulous.

“Didn’t you suggest the same thing when you made fun of my khakis?” I countered. The lawyer in me loved the chagrined expression on his face. Score one for the defense.

“Fine. You’re right. I did and I apologize. For all I know you might have a sex swing in your bedroom and a hankering for getting tied up. With or without your khakis on.”

“Ha fucking ha.”

Jack chuckled and nudged me playfully in the side. “I’m just messin’ with you. I’m sorry I laughed.” He choked and muttered, “Not really,” loud enough for me to know he was still teasing me, but I let it slide.

“Enlighten me. I don’t understand why anyone would want to wear leather. It’s sweaty and uncomfortable.”

“To each his own. This isn’t a sex club or sex bar, though, and if you look closely, you’ll see that not everyone is wearing leather, nor are they all gym rats. See”—Jack pointed to a group of skinny guys dressed in jeans, standing around a pool table—“and not that I paid too much attention, but the guys behind us with their tongues down each other’s throats aren’t wearing leather, either. I think, my friend, it is safe to suggest you walked in here with preconceived notions. What else do you think you know?”

I studied Jack’s strong, handsome profile for a moment, deciding to ignore his question, though his observation about my preconceived notions was astute.

“How did you come to own a ‘leather bar,’ anyway?”

“That was cute.”

“What?”

“That little air-quote thing you just did.”

“Cute? Whatever. Answer my question. Or is it personal?” It occurred to me I felt oddly comfortable in Jack’s company and was probably guilty of being a touch overly familiar.

“No, it’s not personal. I worked as a bartender fresh out of high school. I was green as could be but I looked a mite older than I was. Either that or they were desperate, come to think of it. One week I was moppin’ the floor and the next I was mixin’ cocktails. They were pure shit at first, so I studied up ’til I was decent at it and became the best damn barman around. That first bar I worked at was a true hole-in-the-wall catering to motorcycle men. Gay ones. It was my eighteen-year-old self’s personal idea of heaven. I was hooked.”

“When did you buy this place?”

“I guess it was about four years ago now. I was co-owner at another club before this one, and when everyone wanted to sell, I took my part of the profit and bought this place. That last place was called Level. You heard of it?”

Who hadn’t? It had been a very hip club in the Dupont area. One of those über bars where there was so much stimuli between the bar, restaurant, and club that you never felt the need to move on. I nodded briefly and Jack smiled slightly. “Huh, I wonder if I ever saw you there.”

“Could have. I liked that place. Why did your partners want to sell? That place was popular.”

“Yeah. I was bummed about it at first. I thought about just trying to buy Peter out, but…”

“Peter? Like Jay and Peter? That Peter?”

“Yeah, that Peter.” Jack raised his eyebrows at my tone. I sounded a little too inquisitive but I couldn’t help it. I was strangely interested about what type of relationship he and the equally god-like, beautiful Peter had had. They were both stunning masculine specimens. No doubt they had made a gorgeous couple when they were together.

“You were together for a while, right?” I prodded.

“You mean like… ‘we dated’?” Jack teased, using air-quotes for good measure.

“Well….”

“Yeah, Curt. We dated. But basically the truth of the matter is that we really didn’t do much of the dinner-sort of dating you and the accountant did earlier. We mostly just fucked.”

I knew Jack was being purposefully provocative, and it was working. I should have been disgusted or maybe irritated by his manner. Instead I was really fucking turned-on. His use of the word
fuck
sounded like the deed itself. I could feel my cock swell again and I was glad I wasn’t wearing tight jeans like I normally would at a bar. I swallowed hard and turned to face Jack straight on. The wicked look was back, his blue eyes blazing with decadent challenge. I felt a very strong pull. This man was all kinds of trouble.

“He isn’t an accountant. He’s in marketing,” I mumbled.

Jack laughed heartily, his expressive eyes crinkling at the corners. He might have had fourteen years on me, but time had been very kind to him. He was certainly one of the sexiest men I’d ever met. I had been intimidated by his beauty and his larger-than-life persona when I’d met him at Peter and Jay’s wedding. The same overwhelming feeling came over me as I felt him move beside me and found him completely invading my personal space. His tattooed arm brushed against me, and delicious heat seemed to emanate from his body. I was rooted to the floor, powerless to stop him from doing whatever he wanted, while really hoping he wanted to do something.

“Look at me,” he commanded.

I gulped once but obeyed. Jack slid closer to me still. I could feel his warm breath on my lips. I licked my own in anticipation. Jack groaned deeply and fused his mouth over mine. It felt more like possession than a kiss as he brought his arms around me and pulled my body flush with his, softening the kiss with gentle strokes of his tongue. I thought I heard myself whimper but I couldn’t care one way or the other. Being held securely in Jack’s arms as he devoured my mouth was dangerously intoxicating. But it felt natural and right.

I returned his kiss with fervor, moving my own arms around Jack’s slim waist and up his broad back, delighting in the feel of his muscled body close to mine. I moved my hands down and rested them for a moment over his belt loop before giving in to impulse and dipping them lower to rest on his gorgeous leather-clad ass. Jack moaned into my mouth and pulled my body up hard against him, letting his hands roam over my back and down my sides before finally cupping my ass and grinding our pelvises together. I gasped at the feel of his hard cock against mine. There may have been a layer or two of clothing between us, but it felt like pure sex. Lusty and decadent.

Jack nibbled at my lips, nipped my chin, and licked a trail along my jawline and down my neck. I could barely breathe through the waves of desire. I wanted more. More friction, less clothing. But some semblance of sanity caught up with me as my body demanded a steady intake of oxygen. I pushed slightly at Jack’s chest and felt him pull back and kiss my nose sweetly before he stepped back. That one little gesture had me practically swooning. Don’t get me wrong, his tongue down my throat was amazing, but that endearing, sentimental token of affection was enough to throw me off my game completely.

“I should go.” I closed my eyes briefly and tried to pull myself together. Jack didn’t say a word. He nodded once and dropped his hand from my arm.

“Need a ride? I have my bike out back. I’ll even let you wear my helmet.” Jack’s eyes twinkled again with humor, and I was more than a little grateful he somehow knew exactly how to right the balance between us with his teasing. My tongue was still tied, and my heart was definitely beating at an accelerated rate, but he’d figured out how to set me at ease. This didn’t have to end awkwardly, and I didn’t need to panic.

“Thanks, but the lawyer in me really would have to insist we were both protected this time.”

“I think you mean the control freak in you,” he countered. I shrugged. What could I say? He was right. I was a total control freak.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow at twelve thirty.”

It took me a moment to remember what he was talking about. I just liked the part about seeing me tomorrow and didn’t give a shit why.

“The game? Damn, boy, don’t tell me your date with that ‘nice’ guy made you forget about me so soon?” His taunt had no bite to it.

“Right. Yes. Okay.” I bit my swollen bottom lip and stared at Jack’s generous mouth.

“Curt, honey?”

“I’m going.” I snapped to attention and turned toward the short set of stairs leading back to the bar and the exit beyond. I didn’t dare turn around. I could feel Jack watching me. Over my head and way the hell out of my league maybe, but I couldn’t care less.

“There are three types of baseball players: Those who watch it happen, those who make it happen, and those who wonder what happens.”

—Tommy Lasorda

“H
OW
’
D
IT
go, Curtster?” Matt’s voice sounded really loud and awfully damn chipper at… fuck, what time was it, anyway?

I groaned and tried to shake the cobwebs from my head before asking him why the fuck he was calling so early.

“Dude, it’s… I don’t know. Babe, what time is it?”

I could Aaron’s voice in the background, yelling that it was time for lazy bones to get out of bed. I rolled my eyes. I felt as though I’d just fallen asleep. I yawned loudly and shifted to sit up in my bed.

“Am I on speakerphone? And are you seriously calling me at the crack of dawn?”

“Yes, you’re on speaker. Matty’s driving, and you know he’s a freaking tyrant. He won’t let me drive my own car. Anyway, I want to hear everything too! So, don’t be shy and don’t worry about the time. It will take us at least another forty minutes to get to Baltimore, honey.”

“You’re not driving because we want to get to your parents’ house in one piece, and Curt”—Matt’s voice took on a different tone as he switched from speaking to his lover to hassling me—“we’re calling because… well, really because Aar insisted. Ow! But I’m curious too. How was it?”

“Details, please!” Aaron yelled.

I had to laugh as I glanced at my watch. It was nine o’clock, and my system was yearning for a caffeine fix. I grudgingly got out of bed and made my way to the bathroom, figuring this should be a relatively quick conversation because they wanted to know about Paul… and there was nothing to tell. It was what happened later with Jack that had me wondering if I’d dreamed up the whole second half of my evening. I left Paul without so much as a peck on the cheek only to head over to Jack’s bar and wind up grinding and making out with him like a teenager. Again. It was reminiscent of the night of Jay and Peter’s wedding. No way was I sharing that.