Chapter Eleven
From the huge house behind him, bright light spilled over the lying snow, golden and warm.
Leo paid it no attention, his gaze fixed on the dark gravel driveway and the starry sky above. The night was clear and cold, the kind of cold that dug into your bones and took up residence. His toes had gone numb a good twenty minutes ago, his gloved fingers, tucked deep in his pockets, weren’t far behind. But Leo wasn’t leaving.
It was only seven fifteen, after all. There was still time for Alfie to show.
On reflection, he was afraid his demonstration of how much he respected Alfie’s literary mind had been juvenile. What if Alfie hadn’t gone to the shop? What if he’d walked out when he realized Leo wasn’t there? What if he hadn’t bothered playing Leo’s stupid game?
Argh.
A bubble of happy noise burst from the house behind him, drifting out with a warmth Leo could hear but couldn’t share. He’d go home, he decided, if Alfie didn’t show. He couldn’t bear to return to the party alone. But he wouldn’t leave yet; he’d wait a little longer. Alfie had waited over half an hour in the Whiskey Jack, maybe even longer—he had no idea how long he’d stayed after Leo had left him there alone.
He clamped his jaw against a churn of guilt. Nothing to be done about that now, but it felt like penance to be standing there in the frosty night, breath held as he waited for his impossible hope to be answered. And Leo relished it—he wanted to pay for his mistakes.
Trying to keep warm, he paced across the driveway, snow crunching and creaking under his boots. Grayson had tried to apologize after Leo had caught him in flagrante delicto, but Leo hadn’t given him the time of day. At no point had he even considered forgiveness. Perhaps Alfie felt the same; perhaps there was nothing Leo could say to change his mind. Leo’s offence hadn’t been quite the same as Grayson’s, but it had been a betrayal nonetheless.
Behind him, the front door opened. “Leo?” Dee stuck her head out. “What are you doing out here all alone?”
He stopped, staring at her. Briefly, he considered lying. But lies had gotten him into this mess in the first place. “I’m waiting for Alfie.”
Dee lifted an eyebrow from where she hovered in the doorway, keeping in the warm. “You guys made up?”
“I don’t know.” He offered a shaky smile. “That’s what I’m waiting to find out.”
She glanced around the empty driveway, a mortifying sympathy on her face. “Well, don’t stay out here too long, okay? It’s freezing tonight.”
He nodded. “I’m alright.”
After a hesitation, as if she were considering saying more, Dee retreated into the house, pulling the door closed behind her.
It was twenty after seven.
He paced a loop around the whole driveway, feet scuffing the gravel, crunching in the snow. His emotions swerved between fury at himself and abject remorse. To have had so much and to have lost it because of his fucking stupidity was unbearable. If Alfie didn’t come tonight, if this was the end of everything between them, how could Leo live with his regrets? He already wanted to scream.
By seven thirty, hope was flagging and the cold sank deeper into flesh and bone. Maybe he should just go, slip into his car and drive. Nobody would miss him, except maybe Dee. But he couldn’t bear to speak to her now. His disappointment was too intense, it would spill out and nobody needed to deal with that mess on Christmas Eve.
He waited.
When he took out his phone to check the time, and the clock showed 7.38pm, he told himself enough was enough. He was shaking with cold and distress, and he’d do nobody any good getting sick. There was no more to be done, anyway. He’d given it his best shot and Alfie had given him his answer. Really, it’s what he’d expected. He should never have allowed his hopes to get the better of him.
With numb fingers, he shoved his phone back into his pocket and trudged across the driveway to his car. The lock was frozen and he had to wiggle the key into it, fingers stiff with cold, his vision blurring. He cursed under his breath.
Perhaps that’s why he didn’t hear any footsteps behind him.
“Leo?”
He spun, heart stalling as he blinked into the starlit night. Alfie stood in the shadow of the trees, bundled up against the cold, his face a pale oval in the dark. He was there. Alfie had come at last.
With a lurch, Leo’s heart jolted back to life and he took a stumbling step forward. But Alfie’s expression was serious, his dark eyes glittering as they caught the scant light from the house, and that unsmiling look stopped Leo in his tracks. “Hey,” he managed in a husky whisper. “You came.”
Alfie nodded. “I… almost didn’t.”
“Okay.” He swallowed. It felt painful. He couldn’t catch his breath, but made himself take another step closer. “I’m glad. I— God, Alfie, I’m so sorry for everything.” His words tumbled out, and there were a thousand more behind them, but he clamped his jaw shut before they could escape. This wasn’t about him or his need for forgiveness, it was about Alfie.
Another nod and Alfie took a few steps forward, drawing close enough that Leo could see the misty plume of his breath. Leo was shaking hard and he wrapped his arms around himself, trying to keep his shivers under control.
“I got your note,” Alfie said, and maybe, just maybe, there was a hint of a smile in his eyes. “Notes, I should say.”
Leo bit his lip. “Was it stupid? I just wanted to show you how much I respect your—”
“I got it,” Alfie said, speaking over him. “I got what you were trying to do.”
For a long moment, they looked at each other, their breath misting and mixing between them. Across the chasm, Alfie said, “Why did you tell Dee we hadn’t slept together? Were you ashamed?”
The question knocked the breath out of him, the unexpected broadside sending him reeling. But the only possible answer was the raw, bare-boned truth. “I was ashamed,” he admitted. Alfie flinched, but Leo pressed on. “I was ashamed of myself. I’d promised Dee I’d tell you the truth, and I hadn’t. I knew she’d tell you if she thought we’d slept together, so I—” His voice fell away, swamped by emotion. “So I denied it. I lied. Christ, what a fucking asshole.”
Alfie’s eyes flickered over Leo’s face, fingers delving deeper into his pockets as if he were struggling to keep them there. “If you’d just said something sooner, I’d have—” He shook his head. “Fuck, Leo, it felt like we already had a connection. I knew something was different from the start. Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“I don’t know.” He pushed his fingers up under his glasses, wiping at his eyes. “I can’t explain. I was stupid. I didn’t want to lose Camaro89, and I knew you hated me in real life, so I wanted to—”
“I didn’t hate you,” Alfie said, frowning.
“On the train, you called me a pompous prick.”
“Well…” He shifted, looking uncomfortable. “You thought I was an illiterate mechanic.”
He didn’t deny it. “I was in love with Camaro89,” he said miserably. “And I didn’t know what to do when I found out he was you, because you thought I was an asshole. I screwed everything up. I know I did.” His voice hitched and he turned away, shoulders hunched. “I’m sorry, Alfie.”
Silence fell, heavy as stone. Leo reached for the key dangling in his car door and turned it.
“Wait.”
He stilled, listening.
After a silence, Alfie said, “I was in love with LLB, and when he—you—didn’t show up that night, I thought he didn’t feel the same. And that—” His voice broke. “That really fucking hurt.”
“I know.” Leo couldn’t turn around, couldn’t meet Alfie’s eyes.
“But then I found myself falling for you—and I mean, really falling, at like at a million miles an hour. And it didn’t make sense. I didn’t understand what the hell was happening. But if you’d just told me…” He puffed out a shaky breath. “Hell, I don’t know what I’d have done, but it couldn’t have been worse than this.”
Leo didn’t move, staring through the frosted window at the inside of his car. Behind him, Alfie’s breathing quickened, but he said no more. Leo wondered whether they’d be stranded in this freezing limbo between apology and forgiveness forever.
And then he heard movement, the soft crump of a boot on snow. “Leo?” Alfie touched Leo’s shoulder, his hand lingering uncertainly. Leo closed his eyes, held an expectant breath. “Leo,” Alfie said again, more firmly this time. His grip tightened, tugging Leo back around.
He turned, not daring to hope, and found Alfie watching him with guarded eyes. “What I felt for LLB, what I feel for you—I don’t know how to reconcile them.”
“I understand,” Leo said, clenching his jaw against the chattering of his teeth. “It t-took me a while t-to reconcile you with Camaro89.”
Alfie’s fingers flexed on Leo’s shoulder, his brow creasing into a frown. “You’re shaking,” he said. “Shit, you must be freezing. How long have you been out here? We should go inside.” He let go, turning toward the Callaghan’s house, but Leo snagged his gloved hand and stopped him.
“Not in there. I can’t—” He couldn’t face a party, not with everything still unresolved between them. “But maybe we could go somewhere else and…and talk?”
Please, he thought, but dared not say it. Please.
Alfie looked conflicted. Leo could see it in the contrast between his scowling brow and the firm grip of his hand. He might be angry, confused, and hurt—but Alfie was still holding Leo’s hand, still concerned about his welfare. His heart leaped in unbidden, dangerous hope.
“Yeah, okay,” Alfie said at last, dropping Leo’s hand and shoving his own into his coat pocket. “Let’s talk.”
***
Since Alfie had walked up to Hanworth Hall—needing the time to think—they took Leo’s car home. They didn’t talk about where they were going, Leo simply pulled up in Alfie’s driveway. Neither got out of the car, both sitting silent and still. It was cold, the trip not long enough for the heater to have kicked in, and their breath misted against the windscreen. Outside, the stars were disappearing beneath banking clouds rolling in from the east.
Alfie turned, studying Leo’s profile in the pale glow of the porch light—his narrow nose, pursed lips, the colorless glint of his eyes behind his glasses. A confusion of fond feelings suffused him—something like love. Could it be love? He’d only gotten to know Leo a couple days ago, but he’d been in love with LLB for months. Did that explain his sudden head-over-heels fall? Had he, in some subconscious way, recognized LLB in Leo? Alfie cleared his throat. “You want to come in?”
Leo turned to look at him. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I’d like that.”
The central heat was on inside, embracing them with warmth as they stepped through the front door, which was lucky because Leo was visibly shaking. Alfie felt a spike of remorse at having left him waiting outside for so long, aware that he’d done it on purpose—that he’d wanted to give Leo a taste of his own medicine. He regretted the petty vengeance now, as he watched Leo fumbling with numb fingers to undo his parker.
“Here,” Alfie said gruffly, reaching for the zipper.
“Th-thank you.” His words were a warm breath against Alfie’s face as he unzipped Leo’s coat and stood for a moment watching him. Close enough to kiss, but not kissing, Alfie’s heart raced along twin tracks of desire and doubt. He wanted to taste those lips again, to hold that yielding body in his arms—but who would he be holding? LLB or Leo?
“I’ll make you a hot tea,” Alfie said, turning away. “Chamomile’s good this time of night. You need to warm up.”
He busied himself putting the kettle on the stove and digging out mugs and teabags, but that didn’t keep him from hearing Leo pad into the kitchen in socked feet. It didn’t keep him from feeling his presence like heat at his back. Once the kettle started whistling and he’d filled their mugs, Alfie had no more excuses not to turn around and face the conversation.
Leo hovered just inside the kitchen door, clearly uncertain of his welcome. In the bright light, he looked weary, his face drawn beneath a flush of cold on his cheeks and nose, sleepless shadows gathering under his eyes. Alfie figured he looked pretty much the same; last night had been rough. An insistent tug at his heart urged him to cross the space between them and pull Leo into his arms, to hold him close and fill the cavernous void in his chest with the love he so badly wanted.
He held out a mug instead. “Here. Careful, it’s hot.”
With a wan smile, Leo came closer and took it. “Thanks,” he said, and lifted it to his face, breathing in the fragrant steam. He closed his eyes, shoulders visibly relaxing.
“So,” Alfie said into the long silence. “Leo Loves Books, huh?
He offered a wobbly smile. “That’s me.”
“Guess it is.” Alfie hesitated, sipping his scalding tea before setting it down on the counter. “And that night we spent together…?” His face heated at the memory of how much he’d felt. “Which version of you did I get? Leo or LLB?”
“Version?” Leo’s eyes widened behind his glasses, some of the flush draining from his cheeks. “There’s only one version, Alfie. It’s always only ever been me. I’ve never pretended to be anything else, I swear. Not in person, not online. This is it.” He gestured to himself with one hand, expression rueful. “This is me.”
Alfie’s heart cramped. It scared him, how much he wanted to believe that—how willing he was to open himself up to being hurt again. “I always thought LLB would be blond,” he grunted, in a vain effort to push back. “And taller.”
Leo made a soft sound of distress. “Sorry to disappoint.”
Ah, hell. “You haven’t.”
“No?”
Alfie swallowed, but couldn’t look away from the surprised, piercing hope in Leo’s eyes. “It was never about what you looked like. It was—” He shook his head, but it was too late to stop. And maybe it didn’t matter; maybe the whole truth needed to be spoken. “It was about how you made me feel. Whole, valued—happy, I guess. That’s… that’s how I felt that night with you.”
Leo’s eyes glistened. “Me too. Alfie, I’m more myself with you than anywhere else. You make me feel seen.” Cautiously, eyes fixed on Alfie’s, he reached out and took his hand. “That night…? Alfie, I’ve never felt anything like it. I’ve never felt so close to another person. I’ve never felt so in love.”
“I thought—” Alfie’s words snagged on the lump rising in his throat. “I thought it was just me.”
“No.” Leo set down his tea and stepped closer, taking both Alfie’s hands in his. And Alfie let him, heart leaping like a dog on a leash eager to race ahead. He tried to hold it back, but it was a losing battle. “It was never just you, Alfie. And it never will be, if you’ll…” Leo’s voice cracked, but he pushed on anyway. “If you’ll just give me another chance.”
One final moment of resistance, and then something inside Alfie gave way—the last strut of hurt pride and resentment collapsing. “Leo,” he said gruffly, and pulled him into his arms, burying his face in the warm, woodsy scent of him and letting his parched heart drink its fill.
After a frozen moment, as if Leo hadn’t quite realized he’d been forgiven, he flung his arms around Alfie’s neck. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his breath hitching. “I’m so sorry for everything.”
Cradling the back of Leo’s head, Alfie ran his fingers through his hair. “Shh,” he said, pressing his lips to the warm skin of his neck. “I know.” He kissed the bolt of his jaw. “It’s okay.” He pressed his lips to Leo’s flushed cheek, to the corner of his mouth, until finally, finally their lips met in an urgent, searching kiss.
Leo succumbed with an approving groan, and Alfie went up like a torch, the distress, relief, and joy of the last twenty-four hours morphing into sudden, frantic desire. Leo must have felt it too because, with a grunt, he urged Alfie back against the counter, taking his face in both hands and deepening their kiss, nipping at Alfie’s lower lip, rolling their hips together. The solid pressure of his hardening cock against Alfie’s made him weak with heavy, pooling desire.
“God,” he breathed. “God, Leo.” Grabbing his shoulders, Alfie spun them until he had Leo pressed up against the counter, tugging at his sweater, hungrily trying to burrow beneath his winter layers in search of bare skin. “Christ,” he groaned, defeated. “You wear so many damn clothes.”
Leo laughed breathily and Alfie was forced to let go as Leo hauled his sweater over his head and flung it aside, leaving his hair outrageously ruffled and his glasses askew. “Take me to bed?” he said hopefully, and Alfie’s heart flipped over at the kindled heat in Leo’s eyes.
Fuck, he wanted this. Needed the physical connection more than his next breath. Alfie took Leo’s hand and brought it to his lips, watching over his knuckles as Leo’s face lit with hope, desire, and something infinitely deeper. Terrifying and delightful. Wordlessly, Alfie led him upstairs and into the bedroom where they discarded their clothes, kissing and touching the whole time, before finally tumbling together onto the bed and into each other’s arms at last.
The feel of Leo’s bare body against Alfie’s own was electric. The satin slide of his skin, the rigid pressure of his cock, felt primal, but knowing that this was Leo and LLB made Alfie’s head spin. Rolling them so he had Leo pinned beneath him, Alfie gazed down into those wide sea-glass eyes, naked without his glasses. “Who are you?” he whispered. “Who are you really?”
“I’m Leo. I’m LLB.” He lifted his hand to Alfie’s face. “I’m both. Just like you’re Camaro89 and Alfie.”
It seemed then, gazing into that familiar stranger’s face, that the lines between the man he knew and the man he’d thought he knew blurred together. Alfie dipped his head to kiss his shoulder. “Leo,” he murmured, sucking a bruise into his collarbone. He breathed “LLB” against the trembling softness of his belly, tasting him, marking him, listening to him gasp and wriggle and moan. “Both.”
“Yes. God, yes.” Leo’s fingers tightened on his shoulder. “Alfie?”
“Hmm?” He moved back up to kiss the bridge of Leo’s nose, his eyelids, his cheekbones.
“Alfie, do you like to…you know, fuck?”
Propping himself up on one elbow, Alfie studied him. “As in…?”
“As in, I want to fuck. Top, bottom I don’t care. I just want to fuck.”
Alfie’s whole body responded to that suggestion, a wild flash of desire running hot across his skin, stiffening his already hard cock. He leaned down and kissed Leo deeply. “Hell, yes,” he said when they broke for air, “if you want to.”
“I do want to.” Leo lifted a hand to Alfie’s face, sliding it down his neck to his shoulder. “I want to feel close to you tonight.”
“Yeah.” Alfie’s heart swooped giddily. “Yeah, me too.”
After a quick dash to the bathroom for essentials, Alfie returned to find Leo stretched out on his stomach, making his preference clear. Alfie was fine with that. Leo had a nice ass, a beautiful back, slender and lithe, and when Alfie started trailing kisses along the length of his spine, Leo sighed and relaxed beneath his touch, softening like warm wax as Alfie explored the hidden secrets of his body. They stayed like that for a long time, Alfie kissing and stroking and worshiping until Leo was all but whimpering.
“Alfie,” he breathed, rolling his hips against the mattress. “Alfie, come on.”
Warmth blossoming in his heart, Alfie kneeled between Leo’s thighs and ran both hands up his back to his shoulders and down again over his ass and across the backs of his legs. His body felt amazing, sleek and supple beneath Alfie’s palms. “Christ, you feel good.”
“I’ll feel better when you’re inside me.” Leo twitched his hips in invitation. “What are you waiting for? Christmas?”
Alfie laughed and took the hint, lifting Leo’s hips with a gentle tug. He loved seeing guys like this, the flex of their back, the sharp jut of their shoulder blades, and the downward curve of their neck. So fucking sexy, and a million times more so tonight because it was Leo.
“Ready?” he said, softly rubbing the small of Leo’s back.
“Yes. God, yes, Alfie. Now.”
It felt like coming home. Leo was so relaxed, it was easy, his low cry of pleasure as Alfie slid deep one of the most erotic sounds Alfie had ever heard. Leo’s body was hot and welcoming, tight and eager as he moved with a sinuous roll of his hips. When Alfie started moving too, Leo’s low moans became louder, more ardent. A litany of encouragement and pleas, of gasps and curses.
They struck an easy rhythm, Leo’s back glistening with sweat, the hair at the nape of his neck curling in the humid heat rising between them. Alfie reached out to touch those tender curls, to run his hand over Leo’s straining body, to slide it around and over Leo’s chest, grazing a taut nipple and making him gasp, then trailing lower to find the rigid length of his cock.
“Oh,” Leo groaned as Alfie took hold of him, moving faster, thrusting into Alfie’s fist and back onto his cock. “Oh yes oh god oh fuck.”
Alfie was deep inside him, he was all around him, holding him tight. He’d never felt so close to anyone, never felt so connected. And this was Leo, this was LLB—it was all of him laid bare. “Leo,” Alfie breathed into the slick skin between his shoulder blades. “Oh God, Leo, I think I love you.” As he spoke them, the words chimed true in his heart, filling him with light and peace and joy. “I love you.”
Leo twisted, gazing over his shoulder, flushed and emotional. “Alfie— I love you, too.”
“So much.” Alfie stretched to kiss him, a messy meeting of lips. “I love you so fucking much.”
Leo shuddered, eyelids fluttering. For an instant he tensed and then a ripple ran through his whole body and he flung back his head with a sharp cry, sobbing out his release, spilling in hot, sticky pulses over Alfie’s hand. In the wake of his climax, Alfie’s own pleasure closed in fast. Gripping Leo’s beautiful hips he drove home once, twice, three times as the tension swelled and shattered, and he came with a broken shout.
Beneath him, Leo’s arms gave way and Alfie barely had presence of mind to hold him up and ease himself out before he too collapsed onto the bed, half sprawled over Leo. His heart galloped as he caught his breath, but, beneath him, Leo was shaking. Crying?
“I’m okay,” he said, rolling into Alfie’s arms and burying his face against his shoulder. “Just…overwhelmed.”
Alfie understood. He felt that same surge of emotion rising up, threatening to overpower him, but he rode the swell until it subsided. “It’s been a hell of a week,” he said, when he’d found his voice.
“Worst and best of my life,” Leo murmured into his chest.
Alfie huffed a laugh and held him tighter, kissing his temple, the sweat-damp skin of his forehead. That just about summed it up; they’d been through an emotional wringer, and he felt washed out and exhausted after the ordeal.
But happy, too. Ecstatic, in fact.
They lay there in the soft silence for a long while, Leo’s head heavy on Alfie’s shoulder and one arm flung possessively across his stomach as Alfie sketched slow circles over Leo’s back, his waist, the top of his thigh. Gradually, the world solidified around them and sounds began to intrude from outside. A gust of wind clipping the corner of the house, the distant thunder of the surf on the beach: a change in the weather. Something caught Alfie’s eye through the window—snow, blowing in skittish flurries against the dark glass. “Hey,” he murmured, smiling into Leo’s hair. “It’s snowing. It’s snowing on Christmas Eve.”
Leo lifted his head, hair ravaged, eyes hooded, and smiled a sexy, blissed-out smile. “Merry Christmas, then, Camaro89.” He brushed their lips together. “Merry Christmas, Alfie Carter.”
Smiling, Alfie cupped Leo’s face with one hand, tracing his cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. “Merry Christmas, LLB. Merry Christmas, Leo Novak.”
Before they settled again, Alfie stirred himself enough to dispose of the condom and clean himself up, and by the time he slipped back into bed Leo was already heavy with sleep. It wasn’t even nine o’clock, but Alfie figured neither of them had slept much last night. Curling around him, Alfie shifted carefully until they were snugly entwined, the scent of Leo’s hair filling his head and Leo’s warm, sinewy body drowsy in his arms.
Overwhelmed by happiness, Alfie drifted to sleep planning their perfect Christmas Day— a snowy walk on the beach, plenty of good food, and a cozy afternoon on the sofa with the guy he loved.
Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.