Just What the Truth Is (6 page)

Then choking became secondary to breathing in my list of priorities, because Micah reached over, picked up a few fries from my plate, and started eating them. Now, you tell me, who eats french fries by dipping them in ketchup, then fellating them to suck it off before actually chewing on the fry? Nobody, right? But that’s exactly what Micah did.

Was he intentionally stirring me up? It couldn’t all be my imagination, could it? Maybe he was trying to be funny, or maybe he was making fun of me, or maybe he was…. I tried to stop my mind from thinking it, but then he sucked off another fry and I couldn’t hold back a groan or the thought that Micah Trains was flirting with me.

“You aren’t eating your lunch.” His voice was calm and even, but his eyes were sizzling.

“Oh, umm, I….” And that eloquent stammer was why Micah was a litigator and my career choice didn’t involve impressing a jury.

“You want me to keep feeding you, Ben?”

Oh, God, yes. Yes, please.

But I didn’t say those words. We were sitting in the middle of a restaurant. And I wasn’t gay. Okay, fine, the last one was crap. And continuing to deny it, at least to myself, was well past ridiculous at that point. But seriously, we were in the middle of a fairly busy restaurant in broad daylight. I picked up my burger and forced myself to take a bite.

When I set it down and started chewing, Micah reached his hand out, wiped some ketchup from the side of my mouth with his long finger, then sucked that same finger into his own mouth, twirling his tongue around it and keeping his eyes locked with mine. Christ! He was definitely flirting with me.

Have you ever found yourself wondering if your existence is God’s way of telling a joke? I mean, seriously,
Micah Trains
was coming on to me, and I wasn’t sure if it was the best or the worst thing that had ever happened in my life.

On the one hand, an incredibly sexy, super-smart man whose company I enjoyed and whose body I lusted after seemed to want me. On the other hand, if I gave in to Micah’s advances, it would be impossible for me to ever go back to living my life as I had been. Huh. When I thought it about like that, both of those things seemed like positives.

W
E
HAD
to go through the now familiar security check when we got to the stadium. It wasn’t a big deal, really, just a single file line and a guy running a wand a couple of inches from our bodies. The problem was that my dick was still hard from the whole thing at lunch and I was nervous that the security guard would notice. Micah must have sensed my discomfort, because as soon as we got through the line and into the stadium, he started joking around.

“I had to go take some depos in Canada last year, and let me tell you, getting back into the country is way more invasive than this security process. The US Border Patrol skips the whole foreplay-masquerading-as-frisking bit and goes with a detailed question and answer session instead. I actually found that to be a hell of a lot more intimate. I mean, having a guy grab my dick on the first date is one thing, but asking all sorts of fucking details about how I spend my time is off the table until we’re at the whole toothbrush-at-each-other’s-places stage, you know? With as thorough as those guys were, you’d think I was trying to smuggle marriage equality, responsible gun laws, and universal health care into the country.”

I was smiling and chuckling, all my discomfort over the security check forgotten. It was amazing how that man could make me laugh and alleviate my anxieties so easily. And it was also amazing that he was gay. If there had been any remaining doubt about that, which there essentially wasn’t after that sex show he put on at lunch, it was gone after he made that last comment. I wondered whether this information was common knowledge. Probably not, or I surely would have heard about it at some point over the years when my colleagues had gossiped about the hotshot litigator or, at the very least, while we were interviewing him to join our firm.

We got a couple of beers and a bag of peanuts to share and headed to our seats. I won’t lie to you, when I saw where we were sitting, I almost bounced up and down like a little girl. All right, maybe there was just a bit of
actual
bouncing involved. But it was subtle.

I’m a sports guy. I like playing them. I like watching them. I like talking about them. And I enjoy all types of sports. But the thing I’ve always enjoyed most is watching Major League Baseball games. And we were sitting close enough to smell the grass and hear the conversations from the field. It was incredible.

“These seats are unbelievable, Micah.” My face hurt from how broadly I was smiling. “I’d imagine only people who bought in when the stadium first opened can own these. How’d you get the tickets?”

For a second it looked like Micah was blushing, but I wrote it off as being heat-related. The man was way too self-assured and confident to ever be embarrassed about anything. “I helped out one of the team VPs with a legal matter last year, and he owed me a favor, so I called it in.” He licked his lips and looked right into my eyes. “You were saying how much you like the Glory on Friday and that you planned to watch this game, so I figured you’d want to go.”

My jaw dropped. He had sought out these almost-impossible-to-get tickets just for me?

Micah reached his hand over and stroked my chin as he gently pushed it up to help close my mouth. “Don’t look so surprised. I like spending time with you, Ben. I’m happy to procure whatever tickets I need to make that happen.” After a few heartbeats, he relaxed into his chair, stretched his long legs in front of him, and tossed a peanut into his mouth. “Alright, so tell me the odds you’re giving our boys out there today. Think we can kick some ass, or are we gonna take another pummeling?”

I pried my eyes away from that sexy-as-hell body and looked at the field. “What kind of question is that?” I said. “Have you no loyalty? Of course we’re gonna beat ’em.”

I
HAD
never had more fun at a baseball game. Micah seemed interested in my embarrassingly detailed knowledge of every player’s stats. I loved his creativity when he yelled at the umpires over questionable calls. Our fingers touched constantly when we reached for the peanuts. And the Glory won with a home run in the bottom of the ninth. It was a great afternoon.

It was only four o’clock when the game ended, which was still early. I didn’t want my day with Micah to end yet. As we wound through the streets and chit-chatted about the game, I kept trying to come up with something to say that would keep me from having to drop him at his house and say goodbye.

“Do you like to swim?” he asked during a break in the conversation.

“Yeah, sure. I’m not great at it, but I like getting in the water.”

“Me too. I have a pool, put it in last year. You wanna go for a dip?”

My head jerked to the side so I could look at him, and then I turned back to the road. “Right now?”

“Sure. Why not? Pool’s heated. We can swim and hang out and then order a pizza or something for dinner. What do you say?”

There were a million reasons to say no. Seeing Micah with less clothing was bound to ramp up my already out of control libido. If I was wearing a swimsuit, said out of control libido would be noticeably ramped. I didn’t have a swimsuit with me. “That sounds great. I haven’t been in a pool since last summer.”

I know, I know. I just said there were a million reasons to say no. But there was also a reason to say yes—getting to spend more time with Micah. As it turned out, that reason took the gold in my mental Olympics.

We walked into the house, and Micah gave me a quick tour, which ended in his sleek kitchen.

“Your place is great. It’s really unique.”

“Thanks. I was annoyingly picky when I was house hunting, much to my Realtor’s chagrin. Then one day he brought me to this lot. We pulled up and I saw a dilapidated piece of crap. One side of the house was practically falling down, the windows were cracked, it was a complete fuckin’ disaster. Turns out David, my Realtor, figured the only way I’d be happy would be to build my own house, so he found me a tear-down. The rest, as they say, is history.”

I nodded and smiled, acting calm on the outside. But inside was another story entirely. My heart was racing, and my stomach felt like it was tied in knots. I wasn’t sure whether my feelings were the result of standing so close to a man I found incredibly intriguing and painfully attractive or whether they were due to the realization that I might actually do something about those feelings.

What would it be like, I wondered, to stop holding back, to feel something and act on it? Just like that. What would happen if I let myself go?

Would everyone find out about my feelings toward men? Would clients stop wanting to work with me? Would my friends make excuses to stop seeing me? Would I break my parents’ hearts?

“Here you go, Ben.”

I blinked and refocused on the present. Micah was standing inches away from me and holding a water bottle out. I licked my lips and realized that my mouth was dry. How did he know?

“Thanks,” I croaked out and curled my fingers around the cool plastic.

Micah released the bottle, but he didn’t move back. He was standing so close to me, closer than he had been the other night in the parking garage. And his blue eyes looked darker than usual. I wanted so much to reach my hand out and caress the hair on his cheek. Would his beard feel soft, or would it be rough?

He focused his eyes on my mouth, then raised them to meet my gaze. He started leaning toward me, and my lips parted of their own initiative. My heart slammed against my chest. My dick made a valiant effort to break out of my zipper. And then I took a step back, raised the water bottle to my mouth, and gulped down a couple sips.

I tried to ignore the confusion mapped across Micah’s face. I simply wasn’t up to explaining something to him that I didn’t understand myself. I wanted his kiss more than anything, so why did I prevent it from happening?

I was a mess. Why would a man as successful, handsome, and fun as Micah Trains want to spend any time with me? I could barely stand being with myself.

Be honest, you wish you could give me a smack right now, don’t you? I wouldn’t blame you. Hell, maybe it would help. Nothing else seemed to work.

Chapter Six

M
ICAH
snatched the phone from the counter. “How hungry are you? I’ll call in the pizza order now, but we can ask them to deliver later if you’re still full from lunch plus all those snacks you inhaled at the game.”

“Hey!” I cried out in mock outrage. “We shared those snacks.”

“Uh huh. If you define
shared
as me eating one chip and you devouring the rest of the nachos like the processed cheese was a French delicacy. Ditto on the popcorn.”

“Whatever, you ate at least half of the peanuts.” I got closer to him and lightly smacked his chest. He covered my hand with his and kept it steady against him. I could feel his heart beating and the warmth of his skin seeping through his shirt. I swallowed hard but didn’t let myself step any closer. “I’ll be ready for dinner in a couple of hours. That work for you?”

He nodded, removed his hand from mine, and used it to hit a preset number button on his phone. I guessed that pizza delivery was a regular meal for him. Made sense—Micah probably had no time to cook with the hours he worked. My billables were way lower than his, and my stove was on the cusp of filing a neglect complaint due to lack of use.

“Yeah. Delivery, please. An extra-large deep-dish with mushrooms, a Greek salad, garlic toast, and a couple of orders of tiramisu.” Micah covered the phone with his hand and looked at me with a smirk. “What’ll you have?”

I chuckled. “Ha ha, funny man. That order sounds good.”

He confirmed his address, read off his credit card number, and hung up the phone. “Alright, we’ve got two hours. You still up for a dip in the pool?”

I nodded. “Absolutely. But I don’t have a suit with me.”

Micah’s hand shot out and clasped my hip, pulling me closer to him. “Why, Benjamin Forman, are you suggesting we skinny dip?” He sounded scandalized even though I knew he was anything but.

My dick definitely liked the idea of being naked with Micah. But the rest of me was nervous. I could feel the heat rising on my neck, and I hoped the blush wouldn’t be noticeable. “I, uh, I….”

Damn it! Why couldn’t I string together a simple sentence?

Micah kept his expression calm and even. He tapped my hip and then walked out of the kitchen, talking to me over his shoulder. “We’re about the same size. I’m sure one of my swimsuits will fit you.”

He was back in a few minutes, wearing nothing but a square-cut swimsuit and holding another suit out to me. The man had a seriously fine body. It wasn’t quite as broad as mine, but it was more cut, with wiry muscles and a flat stomach. There was a smattering of brown hair on his chest, and it narrowed down to a trail leading into his waistband. My eyes took a trip down that path and settled on the bulge in his suit.

I wanted to touch him, wanted the heat of his skin to warm my fingers. Would his erection feel different from my own? What would it be like to hold it in my hand, to take it into my mouth, to feel it inside my body?