Chapter Fourteen

 

 

STEVE woke early, with the sun streaming in his bedroom window. Rita rolled over on the sun-warmed sheets next to him and warbled sleepily.

He grinned at the morning and rolled out of bed with a spring in his step… and then he looked at Rita and the bed, which had a higher incidence of dog hair than he was comfortable showing off.

“All right, get up,” he admonished, shooing Rita off the covers. “I guess I’m doing laundry.”

The house was otherwise quiet, and the door to the guest bedroom was still closed, so Steve put the laundry in and started the coffee. Rita meandered over to her bowl for a drink, then sat patiently at his feet for pets while the coffee brewed. He rubbed the soft fur behind her ears, staring out the kitchen window at the thrushes flitting in and out of the hedge.

“I don’t know,” he murmured as Rita leaned into his legs. “History repeats itself, right?” His parents smiled at him from an old photograph tucked into the window frame. Steve should find the negative, get his mom a copy that wasn’t faded with age and years of sunshine. “The question is, which history?”

Rita licked his fingers.

By the time the coffee finished brewing, Steve heard signs of life from the guest bedroom: footsteps, the zip of a suitcase, running water. A few minutes later Drew emerged wearing terrible basketball shorts and a T-shirt that had been stretched into shapelessness.

“Good morning.”

Drew grunted something that could have been a response and rubbed his eyes with the back of one hand.

The coffee maker beeped cheerfully, and Drew turned pleading brown eyes on Steve. The skin around his mouth was still a little red. Steve should probably shave, or Chantelle would have his head on a plate.

“Here.” He took a mug from the cupboard, filled it, added an ice cube from the dispenser in the refrigerator door, and passed it over. Drew took his coffee black, and he looked like he wanted to drown himself in the stuff; Steve wasn’t going to be responsible for burns.

Drew wrapped both hands around the cup, staring into the depths like it held the secrets of the universe. Steve fixed his own cup, doctored with a generous splash of milk and a hint of sugar, and gestured toward the table. Drew sat heavily while Steve took Rita outside.

When he came back in, Rita having found a suitable patch of grass, Drew had finished the mug and regained the ability to form words. “I forgot you’re a morning person.”

Steve shrugged, sitting down across from him so their feet could touch under the table. “Sort of. I turned thirty and stopped being able to sleep past seven. Figured I might as well embrace it and get things done.”

“Aging has never sounded so terrible.”

Steve snorted. “Wait ’til you have your first after-thirty hangover.” These days he could barely have two drinks without suffering. “I’m going to take Rita for a run. Do you want to come?”

Drew exhaled a long breath. “I probably should. Think I can keep up?”

“Well, you’re a little short”—Drew squawked—“but I’ll go easy on you. Soon it’ll be too hot for Rita to go very fast anyway.”

“I didn’t exactly bring my evading-the-paparazzi disguise. Aren’t we going to get mobbed?”

That could be a problem in Beverly Hills. Fortunately it was a problem Steve had some level of experience with. “We’re not exactly going down to Sunset Boulevard. But I have an idea.” A little searching rewarded him with a pair of Ray-Bans and a ball cap.

Drew took the hat, his expression dubious. “Toronto Maple Leafs?”

“It was a souvenir,” Steve said defensively. “So. Are you coming?”

In the end he had to find a suitable pair of running shoes too—one of his mother’s boyfriends must have left a pair in the right size. Steve filled a couple of water bottles, and they set off.

It was shaping up to be another scorching day, but the trees lining the sidewalks on Coldwater Canyon Drive provided some shade. Drew kept pace well enough as long as Steve didn’t push himself to his limits, and Rita seemed content to run between them, nudging Steve’s hand every so often for treats.

Drew was half wheezing as they crested a slight hill, and Steve glanced over, eyebrows raised. A car whooshed past them, creating the illusion of a breeze, and he held his arms away from his body, taking advantage to cool off. “You gonna make it?”

Drew mock glowered, sweaty but no less attractive for it. “Is this all you got?” he challenged, huffing along.

Steve laughed. “No,” he said, and he pushed himself faster, putting a few paces between himself and Drew.

“I take it back!”

“Too little, too late!” Steve called over his shoulder, picking up speed until Drew was running along just behind him, too winded to comment.

He stopped a minute later so they could all take a water break, Rita happily slopping a good portion of her share on Steve’s shoes, the sidewalk, and, when she turned her attention to Drew, Drew’s hairy calf.

“Thanks, baby,” Drew said, dry, rubbing the fur on her flank.

Rita stared devotedly up at Drew and panted, wagging her tail.

Steve wasn’t sure what he related to more: Drew’s mild distaste or Rita’s besotted affection.

The car from before drove past again, slower this time. Probably gawkers. Tourists looking for glimpses at even the houses of the stars got lost up here all the time.

If this were Steve’s normal morning run, it would be populated with general LA passersby, coffee shops, crosswalks, and other opportunities for distraction. Out here, though, his mother’s privacy needs meant he basically ran down one side of Coldwater Canyon and back up the other. In LA he and Drew could’ve stopped somewhere for a bite to eat. Here they’d have to fend for themselves.

Oh well. Dina had stocked the fridge before she left. Steve could manage.

They returned home just as the heat reached intolerable levels. Steve unlocked the front door and the sweet, cool, blissful balm of conditioned air cocooned him. His T-shirt clung to him, damp with sweat, and the skin on his face felt tight and tingly, a side effect of drying salt and too much sun. He probably looked like a wreck.

Drew closed the door behind him and leaned back against it, breathing hard. His cheeks were flushed over his tan, and a rivulet of sweat ran from his temple down the side of his neck. He’d changed out of his baggy T-shirt before they left, and the more fitted one he’d chosen was white, almost sheer now with moisture. Steve could see the peaks of his nipples.

Rita nudged him out of his unapologetic staring by tugging at her leash. He unclipped her and she beelined for her water, which she proceeded to slurp enthusiastically.

“No wonder you’re in such good shape,” Drew commented, his chest heaving.

Damn it. Now Steve was staring again. “You kept up just fine.”

“Yeah, but I think I might’ve partially melted.” Drew stood up straight, wincing as he unstuck from the door.

Steve swallowed hard. Down, boy. “Let’s hit the showers,” he suggested weakly. “Get the sweat off and then I’ll start breakfast.”

Their eyes locked, and for a moment Steve felt like he was back outside in the sun.

“Uh, good idea,” Drew said finally. “I’m just gonna… yeah.” But Steve couldn’t move, afraid of what might happen if he did, so when Drew passed him on the way to the guest bath, their hands brushed, and a zing of current tingled up Steve’s arm and made him shiver.

A shower was definitely in order. A really cold shower.

 

 

STEVE managed breakfast—yogurt, fresh fruit, scrambled eggs, and whole wheat toast—and later that afternoon, Drew made them sandwiches to accompany the rest of the potato salad while Steve worked on the script. But as nice as it was to sit at his table in the sunny den and write while Drew swam or played with Rita or lounged in the sun, Steve thought they’d both go stir-crazy if they didn’t leave the property for three days.

Besides, it was his turn to take Drew out.

“So I have an idea for dinner,” Steve said, standing under the pool canopy. “But we don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Drew looked up from the pulp paperback he’d picked off the shelf in Steve’s dad’s office. “That sounds ominous.”

Steve tore his eyes away from the damp hem of Drew’s swim shorts. “It’s not. A friend of mine, Alex, is the maître d’ at a restaurant in town. He can get us in the back entrance to a private table. You like seafood, right? I already told him no dill.”

Drew set the book aside and squinted at Steve. “Are you trying to impress me?”

No point denying it. Steve nodded vigorously. “Yes.”

“Oh. In that case, I accept. Though I didn’t bring much in the way of formalwear.”

“I’ve already seen you in a tuxedo, so I think I’ll live through my disappointment not getting you into a suit.” He’d rather get him out of it anyway. “Nobody to impress. No cameras, just discretion. I’ll even arrange a car.”

Drew cocked his head to one side, assessing. Heat rose in Steve’s face and burned his ears. Surely Drew had to see through him, had to know where this was going. As seduction ploys went, this one came straight from the book. But Steve’s father had always said the classics were classic for a reason.

“I’m already here,” Drew said. “I’m already impressed. You don’t have to…. I don’t need it. I know you’re not the glamor-and-glitter type. I like that about you.” He paused, then amended, “I like you.”

“I know.” The words came so easily it should have been a surprise. But it wasn’t at all. “You wouldn’t have come out here if you didn’t like it, me, if you didn’t want some quiet sometimes. But you live in that world too, the one with all the lights and sparkle. I want to prove I’m… not afraid of it.” To Drew, absolutely. But also to himself, and maybe a few others as well.

He wasn’t expecting any publicity, though. Baby steps.

After another second of studying Steve, Drew shrugged and smiled, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “Okay. Just one condition.”

By now Steve knew not to expect anything too serious. “Name your price.”

Drew crooked a finger, then reached up to grab a handful of Steve’s shirt. He tugged him down into a short, sweet, coconut-scented kiss. “There,” he said. “Condition met. When do we leave?”

 

 

ALEX’S “private table” was actually a metal picnic table on the patio the staff usually used for their breaks. A nine-foot fence covered in California honeysuckle insulated them from the rest of the world, and a trellis and fans overhead kept them cool enough. And if the back of the stucco building and its thick metal door were less than scenic, Drew didn’t comment, and he barely tore his beautiful eyes from Steve all evening, so Steve didn’t think it mattered.

They ate seven courses, beginning with fish carpaccio and culminating in a chocolate mousse with strawberries. Alex brought them wine pairings with every new dish.

Steve reminded himself to thank Alex later for keeping the glasses small.

By the time they finished the champagne, Drew’s cheeks were rosy and his feet were trapped between Steve’s.

When the car Steve had hired dropped them off at home, they both had the giggles. It took Steve three tries to get the key in the door. They practically fell inside when it unlocked, stumbling over each other and their own feet.

Drew caught Steve before he could go too far, and they closed the door behind them, still giggling. “We gotta sober up,” Steve said, kicking off his shoes.

Drew followed suit and grabbed him by the arm. “Come on. I got an idea.”

Rita joined them as Drew slid open the patio door. With his free hand, Steve flicked on the pool lights.

Under the pool canopy, Drew let go of Steve and pulled off his own shirt. “Race you?”

“You’re on.”

Belt buckles clinked and fabric rustled and bare feet slapped the concrete as they pulled off their socks. Steve couldn’t have said which of them won. They hit the water together, fingers entwined.

Steve came up sputtering and clearheaded. “God, that’s colder than I thought.”

Drew splashed him. “Wuss. Didn’t you say you grew up in Washington? That’s, like, year-round polar bear dips compared to this.”

“I went native,” Steve said loftily. “Moved to LA, got into showbiz, seduced a movie star….”

“Seduced, huh?” Drew’s eyes glinted in the dark. He backed up toward the side of the pool, drawing Steve with him with that magnetic gaze. “I don’t know about that.”

“Maybe I can convince you,” Steve murmured, and cupped the back of his skull.

The kiss was cool and tasted like chlorine and chocolate and Drew’s smile, wet and knowing against his lips. Steve kissed him like he’d just come back from the goblin market covered in something otherworldly, addictive and forbidden.

Drew’s chest was slick against his, his sparse hair tickling Steve’s nipples. Even in the cool water, Steve could feel Drew hardening against his thigh. Drew put his hands on Steve’s back, then slid them down to his waist, making Steve’s skin tingle. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and goose bumps erupted on his arms and shoulders.

He shivered in Drew’s arms.

“Hey,” Drew said, his breath warm on Steve’s face. “I know we’re taking this slow and everything, but—”

“Come to bed with me.” Steve traced his thumb over Drew’s eyebrow down to the curve of his cheekbone. “Please.”

Drew nodded, his mouth swollen. “Yeah,” and he surged forward, crashing their mouths together again.

When they stumbled up the pool steps, it was because they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. The night air was chill, but Steve’s skin burned wherever they touched. Drew tugged him forward until Drew’s back fetched up against the back door, and Steve couldn’t resist taking advantage. He kissed him again, first his lush mouth and then his cheekbone, his jaw, the skin above his pulse.

“Steve.” Drew gasped and threaded the fingers of his free hand into Steve’s hair. “God. I’ve wanted you all day.”

Steve groaned into his neck. “You have. You sat in my backyard half-naked all day while I tried to work. You’re very distracting.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t be distracted,” Drew breathed through a shiver.

Please. “I lied!”

That earned him a pained laugh, and then Drew pushed him away so he could open the door.

Their damp feet made the floor treacherous. Steve slipped and banged his shin on an end table, but it was worth it to get to his bedroom half a second sooner.

He’d left the door closed on purpose to keep Rita off the sheets. Now he herded Drew through it, moving his hands down Drew’s obliques to settle on the cut of his hips. Drew’s briefs were drenched, and Steve brushed his thumbs over the waistband as Drew kissed his neck. Steve inhaled sharply. “Can I take these off?”

“God, I hope so.” Drew braced himself on Steve’s shoulders and shimmied his hips. “They might be kind of glued on.”

“I have scissors.”

Two steps and Steve had backed Drew into the mattress. He sat when his thighs touched, then scooted backward, his eyes drawing Steve after him until he knelt between Drew’s legs. Steve curled his fingers under Drew’s waistband, caught between cool damp fabric and warm damp skin. The moment stretched out; Steve wanted to remember it perfectly.

Unfortunately it turned out there wasn’t really a sexy way to pull off someone’s wet underwear.

Damn it, Steve wasn’t going to laugh. He pulled a little harder, and Drew lifted his hips to help, but the fabric caught on his skin and folded over on itself and—

“Seriously, how tight are these things?” Steve asked, giving up momentarily in sheer disbelief.

“Shut up! I wanted to look nice!” For a second Steve worried Drew was actually upset, but then he started to giggle. “I knew we should’ve gone skinny-dipping.”

“I thought you were just being modest.” Steve leaned forward and braced his weight on his arms on either side of Drew’s head.

“Modesty’s not in my makeup,” Drew assured him, tilting his head back in blatant invitation.

So Steve kissed him again, soaking up the taste of his smile. The coverlet under Drew grew damp from their bodies, but Steve was lost in the scent of his skin, the knowing tease of his tongue against Steve’s. When Drew arched up again, his erection rubbed against Steve’s, and Steve groan-sighed into his mouth. He thrust down and caught Drew’s whimper on his tongue.

In unspoken agreement, they parted long enough to work off their own underwear. Steve’s caught too, bunching unpleasantly on his hips and thighs, but then he was free and Drew was naked, stretched out invitingly beside him.

“Hey,” Drew said, turning his head to meet Steve’s gaze.

What a dork, Steve thought with a fondness that suffused him. But instead of replying, he rolled until he was straddling Drew. He planted one quick—or not so quick; Drew pulled him in with a hint of teeth on Steve’s lower lip—kiss on Drew’s mouth, then moved down his body.

He was beautiful.

Steve trailed his fingers down the side of Drew’s neck, over his Adam’s apple, into the hollow of his clavicles. Then he followed with his lips and tongue, infusing every kiss with something he couldn’t name. He was hard, and every time his cock brushed Drew, sparks went up his spine.

Drew’s smooth skin had tanned lightly, and his wet nipples pebbled in the air-conditioning. Steve kissed those too, first in passing, and then, when Drew gasped and arched beneath him, he opened his mouth and brushed his tongue over the firm peak.

Drew curled his hands into the covers.

By the time Steve had worked his way down Drew’s chest and abs, Drew’s erection was pressed tight to his stomach, fluid puddling under the head.

Steve didn’t mean to stop, but he did, for a moment, stroking the skin of Drew’s hip, staring. For the hundredth time that night, he licked his lips. He knew what he wanted. But….

Drew laced their fingers together again.

Steve looked up.

Drew cleared his throat. “You should get the lube.”

Steve’s dick gave an affirmative throb. He kissed the top of Drew’s thigh before crawling up toward the nightstand and yanking the drawer open. He closed his hand around the bottle of lube and a strip of condoms—

And almost dropped them when Drew slid his hands up the backs of Steve’s thighs.

Steve looked down. He was straddling Drew’s chest, his cock hanging full and heavy over Drew’s sternum.

Drew exhaled slow and deliberate, the air brushing the head of Steve’s dick.

Steve must have made some kind of sound in the back of his throat, because Drew tilted his head back, a dark heat in his eyes.

Steve’s mouth went dry.

A knowing smile curled on Drew’s lips, full of promise. “Next time,” he said, sliding his hands higher, until his thumbs teased over Steve’s hip bones.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Steve rasped. Finally his fingers remembered how to hold things, and he pulled his hand from the drawer and dropped his bounty on the mattress. His palms were sweaty and his pulse was racing. “And tonight?”

He couldn’t have said why it mattered so much. He didn’t think Drew would leave, whatever happened. But he needed this to be perfect.

That sly smile softened. “You’re doing fine so far.”

Okay, then.

Steve crawled down again, until the very specific gravity of Drew’s mouth pulled him in. Drew welcomed his kiss with a soft sigh and the sweep of his tongue over Steve’s lips. Supporting himself on one hand, Steve grabbed the lube and popped the cap.

Drew opened for him sweet and easy, parting his thighs and rolling his hips to meet Steve’s fingers. He took two with barely a hitch in his rhythm, but when Steve broke the kiss to add more lube and a third finger, he arched up with a cry. “Steve. Come on.” He shuddered when Steve nudged his prostate. “Quit stalling.”

Steve inhaled sharply when Drew stroked him twice, root to tip. “Okay.”

Somehow he got the condom on without Drew giving him any grief. He slicked his cock and pushed in.

Drew bit his lip and closed his eyes, a tightness crossing his face. But then he inhaled deeply and opened his eyes, and his expression smoothed into something sweet and saucy. He hooked his ankle on the back of Steve’s thigh and reeled him in closer.

Steve’s breath caught in the back of his throat. Drew surrounded him, held him fast with the heat in his eyes and in his body.

Time seemed to slow.

They moved together as the world stood still. Drew cupped the back of Steve’s neck, and his free hand found Steve’s on the bed. They kissed until they couldn’t breathe, and then Steve broke away to lean his forehead against Drew’s.

Drew’s ragged breath tickled his ear and neck. He smelled like chlorine and sex, and the hot clench of his body curled Steve’s toes. With every thrust Steve grew more desperate, biting back on his pleasure so he could concentrate on Drew’s.

He’d expected Drew to be showier. More demonstrative. But maybe this was one place, one time, when he couldn’t put on an act.

Steve shifted his knees, searching for a better angle, and pushed himself up a little higher. For a moment he missed the closeness, the insular privacy of Drew’s neck. But then he thrust again and Drew gasped, a flush tracking down his chest. He watched Steve watching him, his lips bitten red and swollen, his cock full and mostly untouched.

Steve snapped his hips and Drew closed his eyes on a silent cry, bucking to meet him. He had to be close. And Steve didn’t know how much longer he could last.

He reached one-handed for the lube and slicked his palm again.

Drew’s mouth opened and his head fell back when Steve wrapped a hand around him. Color suffused his cheeks. Steve stroked in time with his thrusts, riding the edge of pleasure so close it threatened to consume him. He swiped his thumb over the head—

Mewling, Drew dug his feet into the mattress and pushed up, his body contracting. Steve felt the clench around his dick before Drew pulled him down into a desperate, ravenous kiss. His cock pulsed between them, shooting over their stomachs and all the way up Steve’s chest.

And finally Steve let himself fall, juddering into orgasm. Drew swallowed the sounds of his pleasure, gentling him with his mouth until Steve’s legs collapsed under him and he had to pull out and lie next to Drew on the mattress.

The sound of their breathing filled the darkness. Then Steve remembered they were still holding hands. He squeezed Drew’s fingers once, kissed the backs of them, but didn’t let go. He didn’t want to speak or move lest the spell break. On the other hand, they should clean up and maybe change the sheets again. These were soaked with pool water.

Drew turned onto his side. He didn’t say anything yet, but he watched Steve in the dark with a palpable fondness.

Steve lifted a hand to brush a stray hair from Drew’s forehead, then examined his hand and decided against it. Drew saw him make the call and half grinned.

“I guess we should clean up,” Steve said reluctantly. “And maybe remake the bed.”

“Probably the first at least.” Drew shifted. “Okay, definitely the first. But the sheets in my room are fine.”

They wiped each other down with warm washcloths, and then Steve pulled Drew outside to the hot tub, where they traded lazy kisses and wandering hands that led nowhere until Steve felt so languid and indolent he worried he wouldn’t be able to get out if they stayed any longer. They curled against each other in the guest bedroom. Even after only one night, the sheets smelled like Drew. Or maybe that was the real thing pressed reassuringly against Steve’s back.

“You don’t care if I’m big spoon?” Drew murmured, clearly most of the way asleep.

As long as you’re my big spoon, Steve thought. “No.”

Drew snuggled closer to his shoulder. “’Kay,” he said, and Steve felt him drift off.

He closed his eyes and followed.