Just What the Truth Is (7 page)

I squeezed my eyes shut and cleared my throat. “I’ll change and meet you out there in a sec. Thanks for the suit,” I said, wondering if my voice sounded as gravelly to him as it did to my ears.

I snagged the swimsuit from Micah and walked into the bathroom, hoping he hadn’t noticed that I was trembling. With the suit still tangled between my fingers, I white-knuckled the counter, dipped my head, and concentrated on slowing my breathing. I could think about what was going on with me and freak out later tonight, but not now, not in front of Micah Trains. Right now I had to force my overactive mind to take a sabbatical so I could bask in the company of a man I truly enjoyed.

Micah was swimming laps when I got out to the pool. I stood on the cool deck and watched him cut through the water gracefully, reach the far end of the pool, then flip underwater and do it all again. After a few minutes, he stopped, wiped the water from his face, and blinked up at me.

“Come on in. The pool’s heated, so the water’s great.”

I jumped in the pool and immediately regretted it. If I had the power to fly, I would have been airborne in seconds. But as it was, I used my all-too-human skills and lurched toward the side of the pool, gripped the deck with one hand, and propelled my legs to the side and up.

“You jerk! The water’s freezing.” I was sputtering and shivering, sitting on the deck and rubbing my hands over my arms. I was so busy concentrating on warming up that I didn’t stop to think about how ridiculous I probably looked.

That is, until Micah started laughing hysterically. “It’s over seventy degrees. That’s nowhere near freezing, you pansy ass. Grow a pair and get back in here.”

I couldn’t hold back a grin. The same man who’d been coming on to me all day, who’d gone out of his way to plan a date he knew I would enjoy, was teasing me like a buddy in the locker room. It was so different from my other dating experiences—more fun, more interesting, and, in a really strange twist, more comfortable.

“I might actually need to grow a new pair if I get back into that pool, because my balls are gonna take refuge inside my chest cavity.”

“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad. Give it a shot,” he said with complete conviction, as if the power of his words alone could make me forget that I had almost turned into a Popsicle. The crazy thing was that he was almost effective. The man must have been a sight to behold in a courtroom.

“I did give it a shot, and now I need to check my appendages for frostbite. No way am I going in there again. Once was quite enough, thank you.”

“You know what they say, Ben, it only hurts the first time,” he said with a lecherous grin. “Now quit sniveling and get in here. I’ll find a way to keep you warm if you’re really worried about it.”

I decided to get in the water. Not because I had suddenly developed memory loss and forgotten that it was freeze-my-nuts-off cold in there, but more because I wanted to dunk Micah underneath and wipe that smirk off his face.

Five minutes later, I was gasping for air and Micah was calling for a draw from our underwater wrestling match. His arm was wrapped around my chest. Mine was clutching his neck. Our legs were all tangled, and our bodies were pressed together.

“I’ll let go if you admit defeat, loudmouth.” I think being as breathless as I was decreased the intimidating tone I had been hoping to achieve.

“I think you have that backwards, Forman. I was willing to call it a tie in order to spare your fragile ego, but if you’re going to be a dickhead about it, the offer’s off the table.”

I twisted around and elbowed his ribs. He huffed and then somehow took my legs out from under me. Then we were both underwater, our hands locked together, each of us trying to get in a jab while simultaneously trying to defend against the other. Eventually, one or both of us needed to breathe, and I found myself with my upper body draped on the deck, gasping for air. It was satisfying to see that Micah was in the same condition.

“I won.” I managed to get the words out despite the need to draw oxygen into my lungs.

“Fuck you.” It was an efficient reply, and it contained neither a concession nor a gloat.

“You do have excellent mastery of the English language, Micah. I’ll give you that.”

“I have an excellent mastery of other things too,” he said with an attempt at a leer. It was hard to pull off when he still looked like a noodle collapsed on the deck. “Give me a chance and I’ll show you.”

Damn, but he had beautiful eyes. Like a blue ocean with glistening waves.

“I haven’t ever done this.”

My voice was low, but my heart was speeding. I had surprised myself with that confession. It wasn’t planned, wasn’t thought out, it just sort of sprang from my mouth in an inopportune moment of honesty.

I flinched in expectation of his response. Would he laugh at me for essentially being a virgin at thirty-one? Of course I wasn’t actually a virgin. I had slept with women. But it wasn’t the same thing. Or maybe he would be like my brother—disgusted by the fact that I had hidden myself for so long.

I didn’t have too much time to stress about it, because Micah moved and put his hands on my hips. He gazed into my eyes.

“I’ve never dated anyone from work either. I know it could get awkward, but we’re both partners at the firm, so it’s not like there’s any issue with inappropriate use of authority.” He rested his forehead on mine. “I really like you, Ben. And I think you like me. Can we see where this thing between us can go?”

I didn’t correct his misimpression of what I had never done. I didn’t tell him that awkwardness at work was only one of my issues, but the bigger one was being with any man. I didn’t even say that he was right about my feelings for him. In fact, I didn’t say anything at all.

My body just took over, and I found myself nodding. Then Micah’s hands stroked up my arms, across my neck, and landed on the sides of my face. He caressed my cheeks, gave me a look that made my stomach flip over, and then he leaned in and kissed me.

It was a soft kiss, no tongue. Just his lips brushing against mine with a gentle pressure, backing off, and then doing it again. I felt his beard on my face and his hard, muscular body pressed against mine.

There was no way for me to pretend I was kissing a woman. Everything about Micah was unequivocally male. And it seemed that even if my brain hadn’t completely made up its mind about the situation, my body had, because it was the first time in my memory that I got rock hard while making out with somebody from nothing more than a kiss.

We stayed in the pool, our lower bodies underwater and our upper bodies pressed together. Our lips kept meeting in tender kisses; Micah’s hands continued petting my face, my neck, my arms, and my back. And somewhere along the way, I forgot to feel cold or anxious or anything other than content.

I let myself explore Micah’s skin, let my fingers comb through the hair on his chest and stroke his beard, let my tongue dart out occasionally and taste his lips. Micah took my lower lip between both of his and tugged gently. Then he let go and kissed his way across my jaw and over to my ear. His tongue licked my lobe, and then he sucked it gently into his mouth.

“You feel so damn good, Ben,” he murmured.

“So do you,” I said with a raspy voice.

It was true. He felt amazing. Our bodies seemed to fit together just right, our heads at the perfect height for kissing, our hips lined up together, his leg pushed between both of mine, putting a wonderful pressure on my cock. It was perfect.

I leaned in and kissed him again, not wanting the intimate moment to stop. Micah seemed to be of the same mind, because he groaned, curled his hands around the back of my head, and held me still as he increased the intensity of the kisses. It wasn’t long before our tongues tangled, our breathing got heavier, and our hips moved together in an incredibly erotic dance.

By the time I realized what was about to happen, it was too late. There was no way for me to stop the runaway orgasm train racing through my body. Micah must have realized it too, because he increased the pressure his thigh was putting on my dick, and put one hand on my ass and the other on the back of my neck, encouraging my thrusting motions. I buried my face in his neck and whimpered as my movements got faster, more desperate.

“Come on. Come on,” he whispered into my ear and kissed my temple.

It was the tender kiss that pushed me over the edge, and I came with a joyous shout. Then my entire body went limp against Micah. He held me and rubbed circles on my back as I trembled and tried to get air back into my lungs.

I had never experienced an orgasm like that. Never. The fact that it had happened from rubbing off on somebody while I was still dressed made that fact all the more startling.

“I… I’m sorry.” My words were mumbled because my face was still pressed against Micah’s skin.

“Sorry? Why? That was hot as hell.” He removed his hand from its perch on my ass, and pushed it between our stomachs into his suit. “You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous, Ben.”

He dipped his head so his mouth was right against my neck, his breath hot on my skin. I could feel his hand moving between us as he stroked himself, and I knew that I had to join in.

With my hands shaking, I tucked my thumbs into the waistband of his suit and pulled it out and down, letting his dick spring free. Then I took a deep breath and wrapped my fingers around his glans. Oh God. I was holding his dick in my hand.

He thrust up and back a few times, pushing himself through both of our fists, and then he shuddered and called my name as warmth covered my fingers.

Neither of us moved after that. We just stood together, each of our heads leaning on the other’s shoulder, both of us breathing hard, and Micah occasionally dropping a kiss on my neck.

It was the most wonderful moment of my life. And it terrified me

Chapter Seven

T
HE
rest of the evening with Micah was very low-key. We sat out on his patio, ate pizza, and talked about nothing and everything. Then he walked me to the door, we shared a quick kiss, and I was back in my car making the drive back to EC North. I left the radio off as I headed toward my condo. There was enough noise inside my head without me adding to the chaos by layering music on top of it.

I had always had trouble sleeping, so even though the busy day had left me feeling exhausted, I still lay in bed for hours, unable to shut off my mind. Eventually, I drifted into a restless slumber, which was par for the course as far as my sleep pattern went. Given the too little amount of rest, I should have been grumpy in the morning. But I wasn’t.

I woke up with Micah’s smile in my mind. It wasn’t his public smile, the one he shared with colleagues or clients. No, it was that soft, tender smile that made his eyes crinkle and my heart ache. In that moment, I knew that I would stick to my agreement to see where things could go with Micah. I simply didn’t have the strength to walk away from the opportunity to see him smile at me that way again.

My morning routine went by on autopilot. Shower, shave, clothes, two bowls of cereal, and I was at the door with my keys in my hand. There was a full-length mirror hanging by my front door, something my mother had bought when I moved in under the theory that it would create an optional illusion of additional space. I walked past that mirror at least twice a day, coming and going from my condo. But that morning I stopped instead of walking by, and I took a careful look at myself.

Thick, chestnut-brown hair, finger length on top, slightly shorter on the sides and back, styled in a fairly typical, traditional cut. Brown eyes, a straight nose, full lips, and a prominent jaw line. And that topped off broad shoulders, a muscular chest, narrow waist, and strong legs.

People had told me that I was handsome my entire life, and I didn’t disagree. I had enough problems to put a therapist’s kid through college, but body dysmorphia wasn’t one of them. I knew that I looked good on the outside. It was the clusterfuck going on inside my head that was on its way to giving me an ulcer.

I knew that I needed to deal with my issues, that I needed to make a decision about how I was going to live my life and stick with it, that I needed to find some way to feel as happy and content as my brother seemed to be. That thought had me closing my eyes and shaking my head.

My parents were wrong about gay people being lonely or depressed or rejected from society. Well, at least they were wrong about my brother, because Noah was none of those things. And his gay friends didn’t seem to have those types of problems either. For that matter, neither did Micah Trains. He was confident, well respected professionally, and I had heard him talk about various friends in passing during the time I had spent with him.

I wanted to know how they did it. How they managed to avoid the curse that I had always believed to be part and parcel of the gay lifestyle. Hell, I had never admitted to anyone that I was gay, let alone acted on it, and the curse seemed to be alive and kicking within me.

The obvious way to get an answer to my question was to ask my brother. But I didn’t have the energy to get ridiculed by Noah once again, and there was no doubt in my mind that that would be the inevitable consequence of going to him for advice. And it wasn’t like I could ask Micah, because that question would highlight for him exactly how clueless, inexperienced, and messed up I was. No, I would have to figure it out on my own.