Can’t Hide My Love (2 page)

“Preston Gentry, I’m not sure why you’re in my office. Can I help you?” He’d tried to go for unaffected, but the note he hit had been more severe than he’d intended.

The air chilled between them, and though he was glad about the uneasiness, a sick sadness twisted through Alec leaving him wanting for one more touch from Preston. He’d spent years dreaming about this guy, thinking about the way his hands had felt, how his kisses had burned, and what Preston had done to his dick, but he couldn’t afford to break the careful wall he’d put up surrounding his heart. Preston was just one in a string of athletes who’d not cared about Alec, treating him like trash, or worse, like nothing.

“I—um, I guess I need to ask about a student.” It looked like Preston got the hint as his face went blank, his eyes looking anywhere but at Alec.

This was a new tactic by a student, trying to get a parent to come in, but Preston couldn’t have a kid old enough to be his student, or maybe he did. Maybe Preston had married someone other than Amanda, someone who had a child already. Alec silently listed the students in his mind, searching for anyone with the last name Gentry. He came up blank.

The silence stretched on as he waited for Preston to speak again, their gazes met and though he tried to stay impassive, some of the ice in his heart started to thaw. He hated himself for having feelings for Preston, but dammit, the man was freaking gorgeous. Alec knew that tonight he’d wake up with a Preston induced boner that would bug him until he took care of it.

“Uh, mmm.” Preston cleared his throat and pointed to the chair. “Can I sit down?”

“I only have five minutes and then I have to leave.” He didn’t really have anywhere to go, but he wanted to watch TV tonight. He’d spent his lunchtime and every free minute grading papers because a new
Doctor Who
was on, and he didn’t want to miss it. He was recording the show, but dammit, being delayed by Preston wasn’t fair. Why the hell did this guy have to walk back into his life right now when he didn’t have a boyfriend and was lonely as hell?
Crap!

“One of my players on the team—”

Alec held up his hand and shook his head. “Hold it right there.”

“I really need him on the field.”

Alec stood up, his face hot and his heart hammering. “Team, as in football?”

“Yeah, I’m the head coach here.”

He shook his head as his anger rose. “No. I won’t give preferential treatment.”

“Listen, it’s just he’s a real smart kid.”

The words sounded so reasonable when Preston spoke them, his voice soothing, convincing, too. Anger filled Alec and he spun around, unable to look at Preston for one more minute without pulling him over the desk and slaking his desire. He wanted to show Preston a thing or two that he’d learned, but he couldn’t break down because the physical gratification wouldn’t be the only thing stirred up. His heart would be crushed all over again.

“Please, he just needs the chance to retake this test. I’d consider it a favor.”

Alec spun around, his fists balled at his sides. “A favor! Are you fucking kidding me?” The careful control he always exercised shattered and his eye started to twitch.

“Maybe favor isn’t the right word. I just need—”

“No! I don’t care what you need. No student, and I mean none of them, gets special treatment in my class. He can earn his grade like everyone else.” Alec’s heart was thudding, his breath coming heavy. Not since he’d started his doctoral program had he been this angry. Years had been spent learning how to suppress his emotions and feelings, but not even five minutes with Preston Gentry and he was a raving lunatic. It didn’t help that this was his first real job and he was the new kid on the block. Preston Freaking Gentry was the football coach and the stupid administrative people preferred football over academics because football made money—at least that was how he felt.

Preston stood up and stepped closer again, his eyes hooded before he glanced up, keeping his chin low, leaving his gaze partially shielded by his long gorgeous lashes. He looked adorable and Alec’s dick hardened even more.

“Is there anything I could do, you know, anyway I could get his grade bumped up?”

Alec’s blood felt sluggish, like the ice in his heart had thawed and started flowing through his body, slowing everything, even his brain. The world around him fuzzed as his dick swelled and his balls pulled tight. Was Preston really suggesting they have sex? The image of Preston naked and bent over, his hands bound, his mouth gagged so he couldn’t say anything filtered over Alec’s senses. Alec would have his way, fucking and using him like Preston had used him so long ago. But that wasn’t something he’d ever do. He wouldn’t ever trade sex for grades because he had standards.

“What are you suggesting?” Alec stepped closer to Preston, his voice low, creating an intimacy that made a shiver race down his spine. He wanted Preston, if only to prove to himself that he didn’t need him. Maybe this time he’d bend the rules—just so he could get rid of the demons from his past.

Preston looked up, his eyes wide. “Oh God, I didn’t mean
that
.”

“Really?”

“I’m straight.”

“Yes, I remember that. You
were
very straight when you were jacking me off, or did you forget how you’d shoved your hands down my pants and stroked me?”

Preston hands went up as he shook his head. He stepped away, his gaze landing anywhere but on Alec. “I’m sorry, I meant favors like getting you good seats at the game, or invites to parties. You know, to help your standing in the faculty since you’re new.”

Alec cleared his throat and lifted his chin just a little. He watched Preston’s face turn an even deeper shade of red.

“You don’t know much about me, do you?”

Preston caught his gaze briefly then looked away, shaking his head. “Thank you for your time. I’ll get out of your hair.”

Alec didn’t try to stop Preston as he raced out the door. Instead, Alec slumped to his chair and placed his head in his hands. Why did Preston still get to him? He’d handled the situation badly. God, when Preston had suggested that he’d do anything, Alec had been excited, just waiting for Preston to move to kiss him or more, but he was pathetic to want that. Disgust made his stomach turn. He’d been ready to throw out his morals just for a roll in the hay.

No longer was he that inexperienced and confused teenaged boy who’d never even kissed anyone. And why was he holding the grudge against Preston? Hadn’t he already exercised that bit of baggage? And why the hell hadn’t he looked up who the freaking football coach was at this university? How the hell had he missed that bit of information?

He slumped back in his chair, flinging his arms wide. He turned his head and spied his briefcase, cursing the work he’d planned to take home. His life amounted to random fucks with guys he didn’t care about, work, grading, more work, and exceedingly geeky television shows that left him unsatisfied at the end of the night.

“Fuck,” he whispered as he gathered his bag and checked his desk one more time before heading home to watch TV alone in his big empty apartment that he shared with no one.

Preston was sweating buckets. Not from the walk across campus, it wasn’t that hot or humid. No, the heat came from seeing Alec Harper. He wasn’t gay, though, so why the hell did Alec make him feel this way? Through college, all he dated were girls. Even now, the person he was dating was a girl. But Jesus, seeing Alec’s thin lips, his dark hair, and blue eyes was enough to make him question his beliefs about who he was and what he wanted.

The athletic offices were empty, all administrative staff had cleared out about an hour ago. His girlfriend, Janea—well they weren’t really together, just going out when one of them needed a date for a party or function—was out of town. He’d been looking forward to her leaving for the week so the pressure would be reduced and he could just be himself, but now the pressure was bigger than ever.

God, he needed to get married to her, then this would end and there would be no doubt in his mind that he was straight. Of course, for him to even think of asking her to get married they’d need to date exclusively, and he was positive she wasn’t ready for that, and there was no doubt in his mind that he wasn’t ready at all. But one thing he knew for sure—well, he was almost sure—he was straight, no was no doubt about it.

He stilled at the lie he was telling himself. The truth wasn’t going to let him keep up that line, not so soon after seeing Alec. Could he actually admit to himself that he’d enjoyed that kiss that happened so long ago? What if he kissed Alec again?

Preston threw his hands up in the air and screamed. He didn’t want to kiss Alec. The weight on his chest increased, pressing down, almost smothering him. He raced to his office, shut down his computer and grabbed his bag before heading out. Preston stopped at one of the trendy hot spots where adults, not college kids, hung out. The place was near some new loft apartments where restaurants, bars, and high-end coffee shops had sprung up, catering to an upscale clientele. He’d seen the area but not stopped. The bar he picked wasn’t his normal cup of tea, but the place was active, and there were plenty of sexy women to look at. Maybe he would find someone who excited him more than Janea did.

After two beers and a shot of tequila his gaze strayed from the cleavage of women to the flat planes of men’s chests and lower. The beers and shots didn’t stop as he tried to ignore his desires. When he caught himself fantasizing about Alec pressed up against the bathroom wall he chugged the rest of his beer, drank down the last shot he’d ordered and left the bar.

That he hadn’t eaten earlier hadn’t been a problem when he’d been sitting on the barstool, but as he stumbled to his car, he realized he was making a mistake. He should find some food, and give himself time to sober up. He glanced around, seeing the neon lights, but not really taking in where he was or the food establishments around. The world spun and he had to put out his hand to hold himself up. But he missed the wall, or the wall moved, and he stumbled. He caught himself before he fell to the ground.

“Hey, Preston, are you okay?”

Preston spun, which was a huge mistake. His head felt like it kept spinning and his knees wobbled. How many drinks had he consumed? He remembered four, maybe five beers, and a couple of shots, maybe eight shots. Too many for his empty stomach, for sure.

“S’fine. You?” He slurred out, hoping none of the team was close and praying no one was recording him. The person talking to him stepped closer and heat raced over his skin like he’d been tossed into a sauna. “Fuck.”

“You’re drunk,” Alec said.

“So am I.” The words spilled out and he shook his head. Another mistake he realized after the fact as his brain sloshed against the side of his skull.

“Come with me. I can’t let you get behind the wheel. You’ll kill some poor college student and end up in prison.”

Preston leered at Alec. “They’d like me in prison.”

Alec chuckled as he put his arm around Preston’s shoulder, propping him up. “They would like you in prison. Your big brown eyes would reel them in and then you’d charm them with that killer smile of yours.”

“I’m too pretty, right? Prison would be hard on me.” Preston knew he should stop speaking, but the tequila and beers had made his lips loose.

Alec walked them to an unassuming glass door, entered a code, and guided him into the hallway. The door closed behind them and he knew he’d made a mistake. All alone with Alec, drunk out of his mind, and he was horny as hell.

They climbed the steps to the second floor and Alec keyed open his apartment. He should say something, tell Alec to call him a cab and let him head home, but he didn’t want to. He liked the press of Alec’s body against his. The thought spun through his mind and he shivered. He really did like the way Alec’s body felt up against his. The memory of the two of them together surfaced and he recalled the way Alec’s tight muscles flexed. Preston almost melted from the memories. Then they were in Alec’s apartment, the door shut behind them. The lights were low, the sounds of the street muted, and he was alone with Alec.

For years he’d been telling himself that he didn’t feel attraction to guys, trying too hard to find women he could get into, and then he’d spend weeks or months faking his way through relationships, pretending to be satisfied. With Alec beside him, his brain muddled with alcohol, he felt that he was thinking clearer than he had in years.

Preston reached for Alec, fumbling as he clutched his jacket, trying to pull him into a clench where he could kiss the guy. But Alec wasn’t the small kid he’d been able to pin to the wall back in high school. He was bigger, his body more developed, his muscles defined.

Alec shook his head, his lips turned down in a frown. “You don’t know what you’re doing. Go, sit at the table.”

“But babe—”

“Sit.”

Alec’s one word wormed through Preston, twisting around his stomach and tugging at his balls. He moved to the table and took a seat, trying to be sober as Alec pulled food from a paper bag and placed it on the table.

“I’d intended the leftovers to be my lunch tomorrow, but I think you need to eat.”

Preston steadied himself, trying hard to look sober. “I’ms fines.”

“No you’re not. You’re barely able to sit at the table. What happened? You know, if you hadn’t held me up, and I hadn’t of gotten that flat tire, I wouldn’t have been outside to stop you from driving. Do you do this often?”

Preston leaned his elbows on the table and propped his chin in his hands, missed, and his face almost slammed into the wood. He adjusted, slinking down a bit and actually got his chin lined up on his hands as he wiggled forward and leaned in, achieving success—at least he thought it was success until his arm dipped and he found his head lying on the table. Preston giggled, then sat up and smiled.

“I’m not that drunk. And no, I never do this.”

Alec just lifted a brow and shook his head. He placed a plate in front of Preston and opened the food container. Preston’s stomach rolled, and he realized that the scent of the food after drinking everything he had wasn’t going to go well for him. It had been years since he’d been sick from drinking, the last time was back in college after a night where he’d tried to replicate what had happened with Alec and failed miserably.  Irony was that here he was, in the kitchen of the one man he’d never gotten over, and he was going to throw up. Maybe it wasn’t irony, more like karma, or maybe it was just all one big coincidence and he was reading too much into it. Either way, he was going to be sick.