Chapter Twenty-Three
Leland
Four days before Richard had to catch another red-eye back to DC, we spent the day at Butterfly Beach, the gay stretch of sand less than a five-mile run from my home.
Sunny and clear skies above in January. Quiet surf. We were in clear skies and quiet as a couple.
A born and bred Colorado boy, Richard wasn’t fond of the beach, but I dragged him there anyway for the amusement. Besides, it was a hell of a lot better than what Richard would return to in Georgetown. Hot, naked men strolling the surf as scenery for us both to enjoy as we enjoyed being together. And he was still somewhat dragging and lacking his usual vigor even after twelve days of nothing but sex and rest.
I was worried about him.
While I couldn’t put my finger on what exactly was different about him, I was aware something was off. Oh, he looked like Richard. He fucked like Richard. He talked like Richard. But there was something odd, elusive to me, hidden behind his gorgeous dark looks.
“You’re going to get burned if you don’t let me slick you with some sunscreen.”
I looked up from my BlackBerry. We were sitting on sand loungers, towels beneath us, an umbrella above Richard’s head, and the sun above mine. There was a short teak table between us with a plate of light appetizers and crystal glasses filled to the rim with champagne.
I’d called Lauren during our run to stake out a nice plot of sand for us in the middle of the action and to set up what I wanted to have waiting there. As always, perfect and excellent preparation.
I smirked. “And you’re going to get a funny tan line if you don’t take off your running shoes and socks. Live a little, Richard. All stimulation is erotic. Dig those toes of yours in the sand.”
“God, you’re a greedy whore about every kind of pleasure.” But he laughed, reached for the bottle between us, and squirted a pile in his hand.
I shivered as he started coating my chest and shoulders. “I love that sound. Makes my balls clench.”
His dark waves tumbled forward as he shook his head. When his lathered fingers ran the line of the waistband of my snug swim trunks, I sucked in a full chest of air.
“You need to go lower. I may strip down once I’m done with my annoying in-box for the day. Don’t want any tan lines, baby.”
“Put the fucking phone away, and I’ll massage you anywhere you want.”
Sinking my teeth into my lower lip, I clicked off my phone, tossed it aside, and he grinned, competitive to be first with me over everything, even my work.
“Roll over so I can get your back.”
I stretch out on my towel on my stomach, arms crossed beneath me, chin on wrists and eyes toward the ocean.
“Don’t forget my ass, too. We definitely don’t want me sunburned there later.”
“Why do you work so much?” he asked, his hand running my back.
Because the CIA is a demanding mistress. “All play and no work makes Leland broke,” was my glib response.
He scoffed. “You have more money than you can spend in a lifetime.”
“I want more,” I taunted. Then on a husky whisper, I said, “I would have thought you’d figured me out by now. I want more of everything. More adoration. More sex. More Richard. You’re right. I’m a greedy whore about everything. Especially you.”
That earned me a frown. “Why more?”
“Why not?”
I glanced over my shoulder and he rolled his eyes at me. For some reason that hadn’t amused him. But when I settled back in my chair, he leaned over and kissed me.
He pulled away too quickly for my taste, sat back, and lapsed into silence. He seemed bothered by something and a bit agitated.
Refilling both our glasses, I handed him his champagne and then took mine. “Empty your mind, Richard. Focus on the view.”
I lifted my glass and he fought a smile as he tapped his against it. As we stared at the men, he slipped his giant palm around my hand. It was nice, an un-Richard-like gesture, more of asserting his claim than a loving act, though I savored it anyway.
Richard was right. I was a greedy whore, but only about him. It was him I wanted more with, and at times that want and the impossibility of it were painful.
It was painful as I watched a couple stroll the beach—a virile, muscled, dark-haired man with his silver fox lover—because I could tell the way they held hands was everything ours wasn’t. Following them with my eyes, I rudely watched as they kissed.
And then the man turned toward me and my fascination jumped tracks. He was handsome in a breath-robbing and dick-hardening way. Very potent stimulation among the scenery.
I was unaware Richard had caught me ogling, and I didn’t feel him leaning into me until his hand closed on my wood and his lips brushed my ear. “Someone just gave you an erection and I don’t think it’s me,” he taunted, and I realized my lips were parted, the first tell when something aroused me.
My gaze shifted toward him, and damn, I couldn’t tell if he was jealous or amused. One meant this day would end in a fight; the other with Richard animal topping.
“It’s the whole point to being here,” I replied on a husky voice. “Looking and imagining. Then going home and fucking you.”
He nipped on my lobe and ran a finger across my cock. “Which one?” His tongue ran my ear and I shuddered because the way he was stroking me confirmed he was turned on.
“You tell me.”
He looked over his shoulder and jutted his chin. “Him.”
A lean blond surfer. Close, but no. But correcting him by pointing out Mr. Tall, Dark and Viagra Rush, who looked a lot like Richard, I was pretty sure would set off his temper. So I nodded and played along with whatever this was.
“Do you like him?” I asked, but I already knew the answer. He was Richard’s type—or rather the type he’d fucked behind my back in Georgetown.
“He’d be perfect for what I’d love to do this afternoon.” He moaned and moved his open mouth to my neck. “Princeton. We haven’t done it since then.”
I pretended to be excited by the thought, but I wasn’t. Richard wasn’t a guy who liked to share. Not anything. Not even me. I couldn’t reason out why he’d suggested it, and it bothered me that I couldn’t. Damn it, everything about it bothered me. “Don’t you think he’s a little—”
“A little what?”
“Feminine.”
“I thought you’d enjoy that, Lee. Kinda reminds me of Jen-Jen. I’d do it if you wanted to.”
For some strange reason, it genuinely sounded like he wanted to have a threesome for my benefit. He palmed himself and my gaze moved with his hand. He was fully hard, the head of his big beefy cock sticking out of his shorts’ leg.
“You don’t have to watch me fuck a twink to please me. It’s more than enough for me, Richard, fucking only you.”
“I thought you wanted more, always. You can have anything you want. Anything. Why don’t we today?”
“It’s not what I want.”
“You seemed quite taken by him and you used to enjoy our ménages in college.”
Why was he pushing at me for this? Maybe my fascination with the hunk had made him jealous and I was reading this wrong.
My eyes locked with his heated gaze. “That was a different time, Richard. We were different. I don’t do things now that are reckless. That could damage my public image. Inviting a stranger into our relationship, even for a onetime event, would be foolish.”
His features went taut like I’d insulted him. “I merely offered to do that for you. If it was something you still desired, I wanted you to know it was OK with me. No need to bite my head off.”
“I don’t think I did. I merely clarified things.” I ended our argument by reaching for my phone, calling Lauren, and asking her to collect our setup at the beach.
“Christ, now you’re going to be in one of your moods for the rest of the afternoon, aren’t you?”
I stood up. “I’m not in a mood. I’m hungry. It’s half past three and we haven’t had lunch yet. There’s a resort on the beach where I keep a membership and a cabana by the pool. It’s not far. Why don’t we go there?”
“Private cabana, huh? Whatever do you keep that for, I wonder?”
“To shower at before I go home from the beach,” I snapped.
“Whatever you say, Lee.”
I watched as he sprang to his feet and brushed the sand from his legs. Fuck, what was up with him? His temperament was shifting direction at warp speed from horny to absurd to angry to petulant. More volatile than usual, and crud, he was jittery like his veins were pumping with caffeine or something.
We walked the four blocks to the resort in silence, with Richard ambling beside me, brooding. After we entered the private club’s pool area, I motioned at a table as if to ask is this all right? He sank down without a word.
“Mr. Jensen. Good to see you this afternoon. Two for lunch?”
I smiled up at the server as she set a menu in front of Richard then me. “Yes. But bring me a Jameson neat while I decide what I want for lunch.”
“Of course, sir. And you?”
Her glance moved to Richard. “Just a pale ale on tap for me,” he said before slamming shut the menu and leaning back in his chair, waiting for the server to leave.
Richard studied me while I studied my menu. “Everything here is excellent, Richard. You’re safe ordering anything.”
“I didn’t doubt it was, Mr. Jensen. Everything’s always five stars in your universe.”
I peeked over my menu. “You’re five stars as well, Richard.” He unbent a little as I hoped he would. But he was chewing on something in that head of his, no doubt about it.
After we ordered, I asked, “Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you or just continue picking fights with me all day?”
He gestured around with his arm. “All this?”
“All what?”
He leaned forward with his elbows on the table. “You had everything when we were in college. The money. Hot girls. Even me. And now it’s even more than what it was back then and I haven’t gotten anywhere. I don’t have shit. I live gratis in the house you own in Georgetown. It’s like you’ve conquered the world and I’m stuck where I was at Princeton.”
I shook my head at him—so it was that ole rich man/poor man conflict—and my steady gaze bore into his. “That’s not true, Richard. We’ve both come a long way. You’re a high-ranking fed in charge of a major task force, in what, under seven years. That’s quite an accomplishment.”
The girl returned, setting out drinks on the table. Richard waited until she walked off before grabbing his beer and telling me, “It doesn’t feel like an accomplishment when I can barely keep my head above water. Fuck, I couldn’t even buy you this lunch. And worse—and no doubt you’ll think this is petty—whenever I’m in Montecito with you it rubs in my face the problems I’m going home to and how, no matter how hard I work, it never seems to get me ahead.”
I leaned back in my chair. “Are you saying you have money problems? Is that what’s been bothering you since you got here? What haven’t you told me, Richard?”
His jaw tightened as though reluctant to tell me. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask you to float me a small loan, Lee. There. I’ve said it.”
My mouth gaped. In all the years we’d been together he’d never once asked me outright for money, and I could see it was hard for him. It wounded his pride, stabbed at his perceived notions of inferiority, and seeing him bruised, bruised me.
“Damn you,” I whispered. “Anything I have is yours, you should know that.”
His face shot up from the sound of my voice and I reached across the table, grabbing his hand.
“It didn’t seem right to bring my problems to you, Lee.”
“Listen, I love you. Whatever you need, it’s yours.”
His shoulders stiffened. “It’s not for me. It’s for my mom, Lee, or I wouldn’t have asked.”
“Barbara?” I said surprised.
“I’ve been covering her expenses since my dad died,” he said.
Jesus Christ, that had happened back in our first year of college. How was it possible he’d never told me he supported his mother? No wonder he was always so stressed and worked so hard to rise quickly through the ranks at the FBI. And it was no longer confusing why he’d seemed off since he got here. Working up to asking me for a loan wasn’t easy for Richard, as proud as he was.
I caught sight of our waitress and spread my napkin across my lap as our plates were put in front of us. “Tell me how much. I’ll write you a check this afternoon.”
“I don’t need that much, Lee. Ten grand should keep Mom going another six months so I can catch up on my own bills. And cash would be better than a check. I’m a fed. They review my bank accounts. I don’t want to have to answer questions if it gets flagged. I’d prefer to deliver directly to Mom on my way back to DC and have no record of it.”
I shrugged and reached for my fork. “That’s fine, Richard. I should be able to cover that from what I keep in the house.”
He frowned. “You keep that much cash in your house, Lee?”
Damn—a slip of the tongue and Richard the suspicious fed emerged. “Yes, I do. Now no more talk. I’m famished. This looks delicious and I don’t want it to go cold.”
As I focused on my food, my demon mind refused not to launch into hyper-analyzing mode. Even supporting his mother, Richard having financial worries didn’t quite make sense. He’d risen to a high pay grade at the FBI, and it didn’t seem right that Barbara’s expenses were a stretch for him.
Then, out of nowhere, the full court push for a threesome and his offering up the twink almost like a present for me. Maybe a bizarre quid pro quo à la Richard? Give me something he thought I wanted because he knew he was going to ask for something he wanted. That sounded like how he’d balance the scale for his ego to take money from me.
And though we’d solved his crisis, why did he still feel off to me? My thoughts felt like a puzzle of disjointed pieces I couldn’t connect.
Annoyed with my overworking brain, I wiped my mouth and pushed back my plate. “What did I tell you? Best burgers in town.”
Richard laughed. “All this. Private club. To eat a forty-dollar hamburger and a handful of fries.”
My eyes widened, amused. “But it was good, right?”
“Yes, Lee. It was five stars.” He grabbed a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. His gaze roamed the pool area and he frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me this private club was a gay club?”
I busted up. “You only just noticed? There’s nothing but great ass and bare chests around the pool.”
He grinned. “There’s our blond from the beach with a bear.”
“Your blond, Richard. I wasn’t the least interested in him,” I jeered, but I was only baiting him and the glow in his eyes told me he knew it.
“Why don’t you show me that cabana of yours?”
“Are you hard again?”
“Oh yeah. And something tells me, Lee, you are, too.”