Read Good Together Online

Authors: Valentina Heart

Tags: #Gay, Contemporary, Romance

Good Together (8 page)

BOOK: Good Together
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"Come on, be a man." Another woman teased and with Troy nudging me softly in encouragement, I did my best to comply.

Of course, only minutes later I regretted it, as Troy stood up shakily, deciding it was time for us to dance again.

The club wasn't as full anymore and only a few couples swayed to the music, but Troy had a goal in mind and I didn't have a heart to refuse him.

My step was somewhat difficult, my legs not listening quite as well as they usually did, but I still followed behind Troy, stumbling a bit but standing, until he leaned into me without hesitation.

"Dance with me," he demanded, sliding his hands around me and gripping my ass.

I probably yelped or something along the same line of embarrassing sounds, but I did hug him back, playing with the edge of his shirt and I moved us along the dance floor.

Whatever we did had little to do with actual dancing, and matched even less to the music, but I held him close, as if he'd been there all along, and whatever ribbing I could get in the future was very well worth it.

I could feel his hands as he trailed upward, as he followed the edge of my jeans until he could dip his fingers just that much between them and my skin. The feel of him was scorching, burning as he went, poking at the squeezed muscle that I just couldn't relax. Not following the beat, he thrust his hips forward every once in a while, grazing my matching bulge which only ached for more contact.

Matching his example, I dared to slip my hands lower, to handle his slightly softer assets even as I pushed my thigh forward, harder, until he could almost lean on me and just rub one off. The sensations were overwhelming, and even with the bad balance I managed to move us along, to twist to the music until I spun Troy around and he laughed.

The need to kiss him was strong, as was the curiosity of what his lips might taste like, how soft they would be. The electricity was almost snapping between us, the arousal so potent I imagined I could taste it but the best thing of all was having Troy in my arms, so relaxed and willing. I could more or less cheat myself and insist all of it was real and it would have happened even without a drop of alcohol in our systems.

"Thinking too hard," Troy mumbled, leaving off my ass and pulling my head lower. He pressed his lips against my neck, pulling a heartfelt moan out of my lungs. But none of it seemed to faze him, not even when I wrapped my arms around him, when I squeezed him enough that he couldn't have freed himself without help. He just kissed with abandon, sneaking a lick here and there until I could feel myself leaking in my pants and was close to delirious with anticipation.

"Troy," I moaned, needing him, I felt, more than I ever needed sustenance.

"Hush," he hissed against my ear before biting it, tugging gently, and moving away.

My breath was short and fast as I almost huffed against Troy, as I lowered my head enough to share my weight with him. With a clouded mind I surrendered to his exploration, the naughty hands and wicked tongue as he pinched and petted, licked and sucked.

"Want you so badly," I panted, getting lost in the scent of his hair, the heat of his skin.

"You have me," Troy whispered back and viciously bit my neck.

I yelled, not expecting it and moved away from him enough to look into his eyes. We stopped in the middle of the floor, just looking at each other's blown pupils and licked lips. Our skin was flushed, sweat almost shiny under the light, and it seemed like there would never be a better moment, never more want between us as we instinctively leaned toward each other for that first priceless kiss.

"Troy!" someone yelled when we had barely an inch between us, and Troy turned as if anything could be more important, as if he didn't feel the utter loss.

"We're leaving. Come on." One of the women from before told Troy, and even though he turned to look at me, wiped my sweaty cheek with the width of his palm, he still moved away and left without a word. Left without granting me that one desperate but memorable kiss.

Chapter Nine

Troy

Waking up with a splitting headache was never something I could consider fun. Any sound, movement or light acted like burning blades stabbing me through the eye. I seriously doubted I would ever drink again. If I even managed to get out of my bed.

I somehow got myself upright, but even then it was a toss-up if I would be able to endure or just dash into the bathroom and hug the toilet bowl.

Lots of crying, groaning, and a shower later, I was sitting at my table, hugging a cup of coffee and begging for a quick death. The better part of last night was a mystery and barring the girls, lots of drinks, and a handsome stranger having his way with me on the dance floor, I wasn't quite sure what to make of it. The stranger seemed familiar, but considering the dreamlike fog surrounding him, I seriously doubted it could have been Adam. Maybe just someone who looked a lot like him. That would explain my willingness to be groped and the feeling of rightness still consuming me.

I shook my head, not willing to go there and remembered too late just how much of a mistake that move was. Whimpering I lowered my head to the table and closed my eyes only for my phone to ring and vibrate, shaking the whole damn surface and my skull with it.

Squinting with just one eye at the too-bright screen, I realized I knew the number by heart despite deleting it from my phonebook.
Can I see you?
the message said, pushing my heart into overdrive and bringing back the delicious taste of him to my tongue. It was Adam.

He had been so warm and willing. His hands cradled me as if I was the most precious of treasures, and his hesitance only gave him points when I'd pushed on like a bully, wanting more of him, ready to undress him even right there on the dance floor.

Screw dreams. None of them could have matched reality, and while I was too resistant in the past, consumed by my own doubts, there was none of it left to hold me back anymore. I wanted that closeness, the anticipation of a first kiss and the way Adam made me feel during every second we spent together.

Where?
I wrote more sober than I could have expected and I knew my hands trembling had nothing to do with a hangover, but rather anticipation.

Same café we met last time in an hour?
And I barely read the message before I was responding with
I'll be there.

*~*~*

As I reached the café, I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants, took a deep breath and just gave myself that much needed kick in the butt which forced me to walk inside. I already had a course of action planned, and was not willing to just blow away another opportunity. No matter how much of a nice man Adam was, no one could just forgive and forget over and over again.

So I walked to his table and even as he stood up, so obviously nervous, I just thrust my hand forward and introduced myself. "Hi. My name is Troy and it's very nice to meet you."

Adam smiled, seemingly relieved and at least somewhat happy, because he took my hand in his and went with the flow. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Adam."

We sat down, Adam grinning goofily, and I matched his enthusiasm despite my blush.

"Programmer, a bit of a recluse, very insecure but often direct. Oh, and undoubtedly gay," I continued with my open and honest policy. I was in for the long haul this time, my demons be damned.

"Tattoo artist who often craves company, confident in my accomplishments and capabilities but not always secure enough to express my wishes and wants. I would say bisexual, but the truth is, most of the time I fall for the person not the gender." Adam confessed. I could work with that even if he still seemed too good to be true. I would just have to learn to deal with it.

"Why a tattoo artist?" I wanted to know more and Adam seemed more than willing to oblige. "It wasn't my first career choice. As a child and later on, I lived for hockey. It's the kind of game that consumes you if you love it enough and days consist of practice, game plans and diet. But even with all my hockey buddies I was sociable enough that I had a school crowd on the side. It helped, especially after the season was over and in my younger years. I would doodle constantly, in school, later in buses and planes when I wasn't sleeping. But before going pro and in the off season I hung out with my friends and I had a hand for tattoos. After I got injured and had to stop playing, I just went back to that. It took a while to get back the skill, but eventually I managed. I don't think I could have handled the loss of hockey without it."

"I'm sorry, I don't know the first thing about hockey. You were a professional? And what injury?" It was irrational to worry about something that must have happened years ago, but it still twitched in my chest when I imagined him hurt.

"It's all right. I don't mind you not recognizing me. It would be awkward if you'd asked for an autograph in the middle of a date." Adam chuckled and I smiled with him. "I hit the boards with my knee, had surgeries, rehab. Got back in shape, then quarter of a season later I injured it again, had more surgeries. I tried working through it, and succeeded to a point, but I was never the same and my game suffered. Eventually I just had to hang my skates. My body couldn't handle the strain and another hit like that might have left me with a permanent limp and a high lack of mobility."

Adam's expression seemed both sad and bitter, and it was so easy to see he didn't give it up easily. So I tried to change the subject even when I wasn't completely comfortable with my choice of the next topic. "Bisexual, huh? God, I bet you got laid as a pro athlete. Come to think of it, you can't be falling much behind with that biker image and amazing artist reputation." I huffed at him, making him laugh. Mission accomplished.

"I have some experience." With those vague words he smiled at me, then he asked, "Why so insecure?"

It was my turn to face my fears and failures and I stared at the table as I picked and discarded my words. "I was…" I hesitated. "I was bullied for the bigger part of my school years. It left scars."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Adam reached for me right away, and it reminded me of our first time in this place, where holding hands was the best comfort possible and one I couldn't have anticipated even with making the first move.

"It's not your fault." I nudged his knee with mine under the table, trying to tone down the tension and it worked because Adam winked at me and despite my unavoidable blush, I enjoyed the attention.

"I kind of wish I could have been there for you, even though I know it wasn't possible. But on to brighter and happier subjects." Adam squeezed my hand before carrying on. "Do you have any family? I apologize if that's another sore subject. Last time you were really short on the answer and it left me a bit baffled." He raised his eyebrows and barely lowered his head, looking at me as if he might have done something wrong.

"I don't even know myself. Maybe we're just uncovering a lot of dirty laundry for a first," then I thought about my words, "Shit, this is our second date, isn't it? God, I'm really sorry about the last one." I pulled my hand out of his and hid my face in my hands.

"Hey, hey, it's all right." Adam reached over the table for me and pulled on my arms to uncover my face. "I still don't know what happened there, but we have plenty of time to talk about it. Can you just finish what you started telling me? I want to know." And his gaze was so earnest, I couldn't keep on running from each and every mistake I'd made with Adam.

"It just seemed like we've stumbled into all these difficult subjects and a second date should be light and fun. Something to make us like each other, not run in the other direction." I collected myself, tightening my grip on the edge of the table and realized I'd avoided his question once again. "I skipped the family answer again, didn't I? At least that is something I can fix," I mumbled the last part then continued.

"Both my parents are still alive. I might speak to my dad once a year or something, but it's rather casual, like the right thing to do rather than any type of honest emotion. When I was a kid he made sure I had my books, enough money, and food. He worked most of the time, and we barely spoke, but if not for him I probably would have lacked the very basics to survive. So I guess I'm just grateful to him, and I stay in contact because of it. Surprisingly enough, he's still with my mother who is pretty much the definition of a stone-hearted woman. She doesn't care for him, always ignored me, and I think I probably would have died if I'd been left with just her as my parent. She actually made it a point to stay locked in her room whenever my dad wasn't at home, and I might be. So despite living in the same house I barely saw her. My parents are a bit of a difficult subject. They certainly never helped me feel wanted," I finished, staring at the table, uncomfortable and sad.

"I'm not gonna say I'm sorry again, but the truth of the matter is, some people are not cut to be parents, and others simply don't deserve it. You've been dealt a sucky hand. What I can do is make the present better, if you'll let me." Adam reached and tapped my chin with his finger, encouraging me to lift my head.

There was only sincerity in his eyes, something I was getting used to with Adam. Part of me even felt sorry for him, because he was so obviously stuck on me despite all my flaws. But I shushed that part quickly and just nodded, wanting Adam to convince me in everything he believed in.

"As for subjects, don't worry about it," I said. "I kind of like the fact that I'm getting to know the real you and with each depressing secret I tell, you'll either love me more or make a quick escape. At this point I would prefer the former, but latter will give me closure and spare me all the pining." Smirking, Adam reached forward and trailed one finger down my jaw. I was just about smitten.

"You're probably right. I keep waiting for us to fit some kind of a mold, but in all actuality, I do like knowing things about you, and sharing my issues makes me more secure if that makes sense." Looking straight into his eyes I agreed and wished I was closer to him, that I could just lean on his shoulder and silently ask for comfort.

BOOK: Good Together
9.36Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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