The Lonely Drop (5 page)

“I have fun!” I protest.

“Then come have fun with me.” He takes a swallow of his beer, then gives me goddamned puppy-dog eyes. “Please?”

“Fine.” I cross my arms over my chest. “I’ll meet you at the hotel at ten.”

“Yes!” He grins at me. “Just like old times.”

****

I leave my car in a parking garage near work and walk over to the hotel. It’s a cold night, and I’m grateful for my heavy vintage pea coat to wear over my club clothes. I can look the part as well as the next guy, with my tight jeans, no belt, and tight T-shirt, but tonight I feel like I’m not just looking the part, but playing a part. When I walk into the opulent lobby of the Haywood, Kevin is waiting for me, dressed in his own version of club clothes— black leather pants and a charcoal gray sweater. He looks positively mouth-watering as he crosses the room toward me.

“You look great,” he says, eyeing my jeans. “Are we going to call a cab?”

“Nah, we can walk.” I grin. “It’s cold, but I’m sure nothing like what you’re used to in New York.”

He smiles. “No, it’s really mild here. I like it.”

He follows me out onto the street and falls in step beside me as we head toward the club. We can hear the bass thumping a block away. It sends a little thrill through me. Once upon a time, I’d loved dancing with Kevin. Just hearing the thud of dance music brings back memories of the way he could move, all hips and sensuality. He was right, I really ought to do this more often.

We pay the cover, and I don’t miss the way the bouncer’s gaze travels down the length of Kevin’s body, the appraising way he smiles. I tense up, wanting to stake a claim, but I can’t really do that because he’s not mine.

“You boys have fun.” The bouncer winks at me.

I check my coat, shoving the little ticket in my pocket, and I head for the bar. Kev is already there, and he turns to me with a shot glass in his hand.

“For you, my love.” He presses the shot into my hand. A quick sniff tells me it’s tequila. I raise a brow at him, and he holds up his own glass in a mock salute. I grin and tip mine back.

As the liquid burns a sweet fire down to my belly, I start to sway with the music. I don’t even realize I’m doing it until Kevin takes the glass from my hand and puts it on the bar. He takes my hand and leads me onto the dance floor, pulling me in close to his body, chest to chest, pelvis to pelvis.

I let the beat wash over me as I press in closer, rocking my dick into his in a way I’m only bold enough to do because we’re on the dance floor. He slides his hands down my sides, holding me in place.

“…so fucking sexy when you dance, you know that?” He has to practically shout it to be heard over the music. I don’t say anything; I close my eyes and
dance.

His body is hard and hot and he moves with perfect rhythm against me, hips shifting in a sexy roll. When he spins me around and starts to rub against my ass, I moan, throwing one arm over his shoulder and cupping the back of his head. His hair is soft as silk, a little damp. I gather some of it in my fist and I tug.

He smoothes a hand down my chest and his lips find the side of my neck just as his fingers pinch over my nipple.

Oh
fuck.
It feels good, really fucking good, tense and sharp at once. I trust him not to go too far in public, so I nuzzle my forehead against the side of his face and let him manhandle me.

Another tug at my nipple sends my brain reeling.

“Oh, God,” I whimper, biting my lower lip.

“You should see the look on your face right now,” Kevin says. “You look completely lost
and
found. You look like a man should look on the verge of an orgasm. You look fierce and fine and so damned hot. All the guys in this room wish they were dancing with you, and they’re jealous because I’m the one holding you. They think I’m going to be fucking you later, and they get hard just thinking about it. About that face you’re making, and me causing it. How does that make you feel?”

“Turned on,” I admit, though it’s really his dirty talk, and not the idea of the others watching us that turns me on.

“Yeah?” His hand slides down from my nipple to brush softly over the front of my jeans, barely a touch, but enough to make me jerk a little in his arms. “Oh, definitely yeah.” He presses against my erection and rocks his own into my ass. Then, he spins me around again and pulls my arms back around his neck. “This, Nicholas, is called fun.” He says it close to my ear, then kisses the side of my face. “Now, let’s go get another shot.”

I laugh as he tugs me toward the bar. We each do two more shots and then return to the dance floor. This time, he nods at me and then turns to a freckle-faced twink wearing eyeliner and no shirt. He runs his hands down the guy’s chest, asking a question, and apparently likes the answer he gets, because pretty soon, he’s got the twink pressed back to his chest and moving against him just like he had me a few moments before. Kevin crooks a finger to me and I move in, chest to chest with the twink and rest my hand on his hip.

“Nick, this is Caleb,” Kevin shouts over the music.

“Hi, Caleb,” I shout.

“Hi, Nick.” He smiles at me. “I love the way you move.”

I leave my hand on his hip, but reach the other over his shoulder and slide it behind Kevin’s neck. The three of us writhe together. Caleb’s cock rubs against mine as we dance, and it’s clear he’s getting turned on. Soon, Kevin will make his move, and I’ll have to call a cab to get home. I lose the rhythm at the pang of jealousy working through me, knowing it’s my own stubborn fault.

Caleb runs a hand down my chest and leans close to my ear. “You guys can fuck me together if you want. You’re both hot as hell.”

“No thanks, buddy.” Kevin somehow orchestrates getting Caleb out from between us. “But thanks for the dance, that was hot.”

And then he’s leading me back to the bar. After two more shots— how many have I had now? —he parks his ass on a barstool and sends me out to dance by myself so he can watch.

I give him a fucking show. For me, there’s nobody else in the place but him. I shake, I shimmy, I gyrate to beat the band, and all the while I can feel his stare, hot and focused on my writhing hips, my legs, my ass. I close my eyes and imagine him getting turned on, letting the heat that washes over me guide my movements.

Caleb comes back, sticks his fingers in my belt loops, and drags me close. “Let’s make loverboy jealous,” he says in my ear, picking up my rhythm and grinding against me. He’s a good dancer, not as good as Kevin, but enthusiastic and sexy. He runs his hands over my body, nips little bites along my jaw. It’s exquisite sensual torture, to be touched like this, to touch back, knowing the one I really want is across the room, watching, maybe getting as turned on by watching as I am by knowing he’s watching. Caleb doesn’t try to kiss me, but he presses his forehead to mine and buries his hands in my hair. “Your man can’t take his eyes off you. Lucky bitch.”

I look over to Kevin sitting at the bar, and our eyes meet. He gives me a feral grin and comes back to the floor to claim another dance of his own.

****

I lost count at five shots of tequila, which is a really bad idea, and something I really ought to know better than to do. Or something. The point is, I’m a bartender; I know better. Shit, I can’t feel my teeth. This bathroom mirror pep talk is making me feel even stupider than when I walked in. And I felt pretty stupid when I walked in. Letting some random guy do a body shot off your abs in front of the love of your life will do that to you.

God, I’m all… sticky
.

“Oh, Jesus, Nick.” Kevin walks into the john and takes in my disheveled appearance— or maybe the way I’m leaning my forehead against the mirror. “Okay buddy. Let’s go.” He pulls one of my arms around his shoulders and sort of hoists me against him.

“We gonna dance some more?” I try to gyrate my hips, but he stops me with a hand on my chest.

“We’re going to put you to bed,” he grumbles.

Grouchy-ass. I frown at him. “Aren’t you having fun?”

“They called last call fifteen minutes ago. It’s time to go home.” He leads me out the front door, and I’m blasted by the cold air. I shudder all over.

“Shit, you were wearing a coat. Where’s your coat check ticket? I’ll go get it.” He holds out his hand.

“Come find it, loverboy,” I taunt, gesturing toward my pocket. “Guess correctly and you win a prize.” I shimmy my hips a little, giggling.

“Okay, one, don’t call me loverboy. Two, you’re never drinking tequila again. Now reach in your pocket and get the ticket out. Please.”

“You said we were going to have fun.” I pout. “I’m offering you a guilt-free grope. Have at it.”

“You’re being an ass,” he growls. “Get the ticket out.”

“Fine.” I dig the ticket out of my pocket and thrust it at him. He disappears inside, leaving me shivering on the sidewalk. When he comes back, he drapes my coat gently over my shoulders.

“I had the bartender call us a cab,” he tells me, holding my coat closed around my chest. “It should be here any minute. Do you want to stay at the hotel tonight so I can keep an eye on you?”

“So you can seduce me?” I waggle my eyebrows at him.

“So I can make sure you don’t choke on your own vomit.” He grimaces. “How much did you have to drink?”

“I don’t know. Caleb and that bear he went home with each bought me a shot. Plus the ones we did together. And that beer…” I start ticking them off on my fingers, but I keep losing track. A car pulls up next to us, and I realize it’s our cab when Kevin bundles me inside.

The cab stinks like tequila. Huh. Actually, maybe that’s me. I close my eyes for just a moment but I must have dozed, because Kevin is hauling me out of the cab and into the hotel. I let him lead me to the elevator, then to his room. He strips me down to my boxers and tucks me into the king-sized bed.

I watch sleepily through half-closed eyes as he folds up my clothes and sets them on the desk. He picks up my T-shirt, lifts it to his nose and smells it as he glances over at me. He must think I’m asleep, because he watches me for a minute, a soft smile on his face. I want to ask him what that smile means, but I’m too tongue-tied by tequila and my own timidness to speak up. Finally, he sets my shirt down on top of my jeans and strips out of his own clothes.

He turns off the light and slides into bed behind me.

“Goodnight, Nick,” he whispers.

“G’night,” I mumble into the pillow. I freeze for a moment, caught out feigning sleep, but then his hand strokes over my back in a soft caress, and sleep catches up with me for real.

****

Oh. My. God.

The desire to tear my own brain out of my skull is only dampened by the fear of loud noises anywhere near my head.

Like the hotel alarm clock noise screeching away mere inches from me. I pull the pillow over my head, groaning. My mouth tastes like something died inside. Tequila? Oh, fuck me.

A heavy weight leans against my back and the noise, blissfully, stops.

“Sorry, Nick.”

The weight moves away.

“Kevin? Why am I in bed with you?” I clench my ass a little, relieved to not feel any signs of penetration.

He laughs, dropping a hand onto my shoulder and rubbing lightly. “Because you were pretty wasted last night, and I wasn’t going to send you home alone. Do you remember?”

“We went dancing.”

“And drinking. Tequila. Also beer. And God knows what else.”

“Some guy asked if we would fuck him together.”

“You do remember.” Kevin laughs again. “Anyway, yeah.”

“We didn’t…?” I hate not remembering everything.

“Some dance-floor shenanigans, but that’s it.”

Oh thank God.

“Thank you.” I let go of the pillow and roll to my side.

“For what?” He smiles at me and the fuzzy memory of him watching me— watching me what?
Breathe? —
rushes over me.

“For watching over me.”

He runs a hand through my tousled hair. “You’re welcome. Now I gotta get up and go in to the office. Why don’t you get some more sleep? There’s a glass of water and some ibuprofen on the bedside table.”

“I love you.” I roll to my other side and grab the glass. I don’t care if it’s tap water, it’s the sweetest glass I’ve ever had in my life. I take the two brown pills sitting next to it and swallow them with a grimace as Kevin gets up and goes about his morning routine. The shower turns on, and I hear him singing softly.

After a few minutes of listening to the running water, I really,
really
need to pee.

I stare at the bathroom door for minute. Hell, I’ve seen him in the shower before. Hundreds of times after games and practices. He won’t care.

I push open the door to the bathroom and stop dead in my tracks when I see him through the glass enclosure. His back is partially to me, and the way his arm is moving, he could only be doing one thing.

I’ve never thought of myself as a voyeur, but my mouth goes dry at the sight of him, water flowing over his muscles, his eyes clenched shut and his mouth open in a gasp of lust. A mirroring arousal shoots through my body, a tight ache across my skin. I should turn around, leave, give him his privacy, but to my utter shame, I can’t tear my gaze away from him.

He tilts his head so the water hits him in the chest. His broad back hides his hand on his dick, but his arm moves up and down in strong, steady strokes. His ass cheeks flex and release as he rocks forward. He’s gorgeous, a beautiful masculine figure lost in sexual abandon, but beyond that, he’s my Kevin, the man I loved ten years ago, the man I probably never stopped loving, and the man I will never have— at least not on my terms.

To see him like this feels like a prize I haven’t earned. I back slowly out of the room and close the door. Just as it clicks into place, I hear his sharp cry, and I cover my mouth to keep from groaning. I wait a long moment before knocking.

“Hey Kev, comin’ in. I gotta pee.”

“Hold on, I’m almost done.” He calls back. I hear the water shut off and then he opens the door, his lower body wrapped in a towel.

“All yours.” He grins at me. I manage a tiny smile as I pass by him, and blush bright red when he starts whistling as he gets dressed.