Chapter Three

 

 

FORRESTER HANDED the pizza delivery guy cash and a tip, feeling bad for the kid as he hunched up and ran to his car, feet splashing in the puddles. A big storm had moved through the region, hitting the sleepy little village on the muddy Shiloh River just before closing time, and it wasn’t likely to let up anytime soon. He’d ordered a deep dish from Mama Rosie’s because they were the only place in Gilead that delivered. Rosie was a shirttail cousin of some sort, but Forrester didn’t really know her well.

Pepperoni pizza in one hand, he checked the Closed sign and locked the door. A loud burst of thunder echoed outside. Humming to himself, he set the box on the bar, opened it, and then fished out a Coke from the cooler. As he waited for the pizza to cool, he drank some pop and scrolled through his texts and missed calls.

His brothers had blown up his phone while he’d been working, asking if he still planned to hang with the rest of the team for beer and pizza even though the game had been canceled. After a string of messages from Tony, a couple from Joey—including a naked lady meme—the last was from Dino: U coming Frankie or what?

Sorry, got plans.

Grinning, he picked up a slice and bit into it. Mmm, good plans.

No need to respond to the other messages. One Giordano would spread the news well enough.

Forrester couldn’t think of anywhere else he wanted to be but his bookstore. Now that he had food and had swapped his contacts for glasses, he could hole up here all night and listen to the rain pelt the building.

He loved being alone in his bookstore. The cozy chairs, the smell of books and coffee, and the blissful quiet, always left him at peace.

As a kid, Gramps used to regale him with tales of all the famous authors who had come into his bookstore in Chicago. That instilled love of books had led Forrester to a job in a big chain bookstore during college. He’d moved up to management, transferring to the branch at the Shiloh Mall when Dad died. He’d worked there right up until it closed, then he’d opened A Novel Idea. Growing up in a loud Italian family, Forrester had discovered bookstores were like his own personal Fortress of Solitude.

“I love your family,” Gramps used to say. “But I don’t know how you put up with all that noise.”

Yeah, neither did Forrester some days.

After he ate another slice, he sent Ma a text.

Don’t worry about me, I’m staying @ the store cuz I don’t feel like driving home in the rain.

It didn’t take long for her reply. I don’t like you sleeping in the store. Am I going to see you tomorrow?

Prolly, he told her, not wanting to commit to anything.

The store was closed Sunday in the off-season, so maybe he would just be lazy all day tomorrow too.

Checking out different apps, Forrester searched social media for Kyle while he ate. Hoping to send him a message, connect outside of the bookstore, he was disappointed once again when he didn’t find anything anywhere. Since Forrester mainly used Instagram and Snapchat with usernames la famiglia wouldn’t be able to figure out—they were restricted to his Facebook—maybe Kyle had a strange username too.

After killing more than half the pizza and downing two Cokes, Forrester put his phone aside and made himself a cup of tea. English Breakfast with a dash of cream and two teaspoons of sugar. Gramps had turned Forrester into a tea drinker. Much like the bookstore, the tea brought back pleasant memories of the one family member he’d never had to pretend around.

Not for the first time, he wished he’d come out to Gramps, but he’d only been seventeen when Gramps died. Might have made it easier to tell the rest of his family if Gramps had been at his side, though.

Add that to the list of if-onlys.

Steaming brew in hand, he grabbed the new S.D. Howe book and settled in the window seat where Kyle had lounged earlier. He didn’t want to dwell on the past. Rather he just wanted to have a relaxing evening. The rain splattered the window in waves and soon Forrester was lost in the story.

By the time he finished five chapters and his tea, the rain hadn’t let up. Book in hand and still reading, he walked behind the bar and topped off his cup with more hot water, cream, and sugar.

Just when he sat back down, a pounding on the door startled him.

Kyle stood on the stoop, huddled under the awning with a box in his hands.

Recalling himself, Forrester rushed to unlock the door, splashing hot tea on his wrist in his haste to set his book and cup down. The moment he opened the door, a crack of lightning tore through the sky, and the gale almost ripped the handle from his grip. Rain splattered his glasses.

“Hey, come on in,” he said, holding tight and gesturing a drenched Kyle inside.

Kyle stomped his wet boots on the mat. “I saw you in the window, and the lights were on. I brought those books. Aren’t you still open?”

“Off-season. We close at five.” He pointed at the sign, trying to ignore how sexy Kyle was, all rain-soaked. Most of the little shops in Gilead rolled up their mats at 5:00 p.m. and closed Sunday and Monday during winter hours. But come the weekend of Memorial Day, they would be open seven days a week, nine to eight, until the town’s famous Applebutter Fest in October.

“Sorry. I guess I can come back another time.”

“No!” Forrester grabbed his arm so quickly Kyle jumped. Realizing his reaction had been extreme, he let go. “It’s raining like mad out there. And it’s not even late. You’re already here. No sense carting the books home now.”

Kyle smiled. “You sure? I don’t wanna be a bother.”

You could never be a bother, Forrester wanted to say when he caught sight of those dimples. Instead, he locked the door. “I’m here, you’re here. It’s all good.”

Really, really good.

Shaking the water from his nylon jacket, Kyle threw back the hood, rivulets of water trickling down his cheeks. He gave Forrester a toothy smile. “Thank you, Forrester.”

Say my name again, please!

Forrester used the hem of his shirt to dry his glasses, not wanting to take a second longer having Kyle out of focus. When he replaced his glasses, he swore Kyle had been looking at his stomach.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses.” Kyle placed the large box on the checkout counter, hefting it as if it weighed nothing.

“It’s my Clark Kent disguise. I’m shocked you recognized me.”

Kyle laughed.

Though Forrester only had to count the books, make an account profile in the computer, and give Kyle a store card, this was the first time they’d been alone in the bookstore. “Want me to take your coat so you can dry off?” Forrester offered.

“Thanks.” He shrugged out of the jacket, then began brushing water droplets from those thick, almost hairless arms.

At the sight of the luscious male body wrapped in a snug black T-shirt and sexy faded jeans, the familiar churning sensation began in his balls. But he kept control of himself as he carried Kyle’s coat toward the hooks on the wall. Unable to resist, he took a deep inhale of the garment before he hung it up, feeling the scent all the way to his groin. Kyle smelled good. Did he wear cologne or could it just be his skin?

Ignoring his body’s reaction, he turned his attention to the books.

Right on top sat a copy of Visitor in the Wood.

He swallowed hard. “You’re trading this in?”

Kyle shook his head, smiling. “No, figured I’d loan it to you.”

A surge of confidence and hunger whipped through him. “But I thought we were going to read it together?”

“I’m game if you are.” Kyle grinned. “Unless you have other plans tonight?”

“Uh, um… no plans.” His heart skipped, and his cock stood up and paid attention. He let out a breathy chuckle. “How about I put the books in the computer first?”

“Sounds good.”

Hands trembling with anticipation, he set the erotic book on the small counter behind him, where his permits and LLC were displayed above the credit card machine and a framed photo of a younger Gramps in his bookstore.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Kyle began. “Whose picture is that?”

Forrester smiled, both grateful for a reprieve of the sexual back-and-forth and because the picture always made him smile. “That’s Gramps, my mom’s dad. That’s his bookstore in Chicago, called A Novel Idea. Naturally, when I opened mine, it had to have the same name.”

“That’s cool.”

“My grandpas actually introduced my mom and dad to each other,” Forrester said as he began to remove Kyle’s books and assemble them in alphabetical order. But it was all he could do not to shove them to the floor and dive across the counter and kiss Kyle.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he went on, trying to distract himself from his X-rated thoughts and ignore the intense way Kyle watched his mouth as he spoke. “My dad’s father was a famous psychologist back in Italy. Doctor Dino Giordano. In the forties, he brought the whole family—wife and seven kids—to America when Shiloh University invited him to give a seminar. Mussolini was still in power, and the war was going on, so he declared refugee status, and they never left.”

“Giordano?” Kyle repeated. “As in the Giordano Building at the university?”

He smiled proudly. “Yup, but I didn’t know him. He died before I was born. He met Gramps in his bookstore when he was visiting Chicago. They became friends, and then Ma and Dad met and got married. Then they moved here. All seven Giordano kids had settled down in Shiloh, and then Ma’s sister and parents followed her here. That’s why there are so many of us Italians running around.” You’re babbling again!

“Mystery solved as to why I’ve had the best Italian food in the middle of Ohio. And you’re related to most of them, it sounds like. You’re lucky to have such a big family.”

“A big noisy family, which is why I’m in the bookstore after hours. A man needs some peace and quiet, ya know?” Forrester examined Kyle’s books. “Jeez, you got quite the collection.” He ran his hand over the spines and smiled when he saw the Legends trilogy about the twins from the Dragonlance series. “I haven’t read this since high school.”

“And they’re all in good shape just like I promised.” Kyle gave him a small grin, then looked at the New Releases shelf beside the register.

Reprieved from Kyle’s intense stare, Forrester flipped on the computer, casting glances at him. Kyle picked up a book, read the blurb, then replaced it on the shelf. He straightened it in line with the others, leaving things better than how he found them.

“I’m sorry to put you out like this,” Kyle offered.

“You’re not putting me out at all,” Forrester told him, glad his voice sounded somewhat collected.

Those hazel eyes boldly watched his face. “You sure? No one likes to work on a Saturday night.”

Clearing his throat, Forrester pushed his glasses up his nose and pointed at his pizza. “I’m not really working. Just hanging out. Where do you work?”

“I’m an assistant for the county prosecutor.”

“Like his secretary?”

“No, I’m a lawyer who helps the county prosecute the bad guys.”

Forrester whistled. Life didn’t seem to hold Kyle back one iota. “That’s impressive.” And probably why Kyle wasn’t anywhere on social media. Jobs like that were strict.

Coming from a patriarch with university buildings named after him, education had been important in their family, especially because Dad had been dyslexic—not that anyone knew what that meant back then. A union plumbing job had been how he supported their family. Dino and Joey took after Dad and were mechanical but not good at school, which was why they gave him so much shit about loving books. Tony, on the other hand, was on the Shiloh PD working on an MBA. When he got it, his head would get that much bigger.

Kyle eyed him with playful suspicion. “What? No lawyer jokes?”

“Maybe if you said you had fake neck braces in your trunk. But that sounds pretty prestigious.”

“Far from prestigious, it’s Shiloh.”

“Yeah, but having your law degree is cool. I have my bachelor’s in business from OSU.”

“I never would’ve guessed you for a Buckeye.” Kyle gestured around the shop to the Ohio State pennants randomly displayed between book posters, the team O on the chalk sign selling buckeye candies, and the scarlet and gray coffee mugs.

“Too subtle for ya?” Forrester gave the Brutus bobblehead on the counter a wiggle. Ohio State fans were not known for their discretion.

Kyle chuckled. “You Buckeye fans are way too intense.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Smiling, he entered another book into Kyle’s account.

“I’m glad you were here tonight.”

When he heard a change in Kyle’s voice, Forrester looked up in surprise.

Kyle’s little finger twitched against his thigh. He threw Forrester a quick smile, which did not reflect in his eyes.

His heart lurched, unsettled by what he saw in his countenance. Sadness? Loneliness? He didn’t feel right ignoring it. “Something wrong, Kyle?”

“My mother died. Not today,” he amended when Forrester’s brows shot up. “It was years ago, but this weekend is usually rough on me, ya know? So thanks for not kicking me out.”

“I’m sorry.” Unsure what else to say, Forrester fussed with the books. Dealing with grief was not something he’d been schooled in. When Gramps died, Forrester had been devastated, but he’d only cried in front of Ma and Nonna. Then after Dad’s funeral, he and his brothers had fixated their attentions on their father’s ’67 Shelby Fastback. Rather than cry, the Giordano boys had told stories and wrenched on the car, checking the oil and hoses. Any tears had been brushed away with remarks about dust in the eyes.

God forbid you act like a pussy and let someone know what you’re feeling.

“She died from breast cancer when I was in college,” Kyle continued.

Cheeks warming, Forrester fiddled with the book in his hand. “My dad died when I was in school too. Heart attack.”

Tears brightened Kyle’s eyes. “It sucks, don’t it?”

Overcome with a sudden desire to reach out and hug him, to ease the grief and loneliness in those hazel eyes, Forrester placed his hands flat on the desk. “How about a cup of tea?”

“Coffee?”

Smiling, he gestured around. “I definitely have that. And some biscotti. And buckeyes. You hungry? I got pizza too.” He sounded like the women in his family, always trying to feed sad or depressed people, but he wanted to bring the huge smile back to Kyle’s face. See those dimples again.

The offer worked.

Kyle smiled. “I could have biscotti.”

“Cool.” Before he made the coffee, he went for broke. “Since you don’t have plans, you could hang out here, ya know? Me with my tea and you with your coffee.” He looked down at the books, squirming as he added, “We can either just have coffee and listen to the rain or, um… read your book.”

When he glanced back up, Kyle’s head was tilted to the side, looking up at Forrester’s mouth. “What was that last part?”

“Oh!” Forrester said, feeling thoughtless for not realizing Kyle might need to read his lips. Then his face warmed, and for half a second, he thought about saying something clever instead but decided against it. He looked at Kyle and said slower and louder, “I said we can either just have coffee and listen to the rain, or we can read that book.”

Kyle gave Forrester a smile he felt clear to his toes. “Sounds good.”

Though Kyle’s nonanswer left the evening’s plans wide open, Forrester took it as a win, and inside he did a touchdown victory dance.

“You don’t have to talk slow for me to understand you,” Kyle said, not unkindly. “Even when I take my processor out, I can read lips better if you just speak normally.”

Face hot now, Forrester said, “Oh, I’m sorry, I—”

Kyle placed a hand over Forrester’s, halting him. Their eyes met, and Kyle was still smiling. “Don’t apologize. I was just letting you know.”

He nodded, biting his lower lip when Kyle withdrew. He wanted Kyle to like him, not to think he was some dummy who treated him differently. Forrester understood being the odd man out every time he was with his brothers. Kyle must feel that way, not just in straight company, but hearing company as well.

Struggling for anything neutral to say, Forrester fixed his attention on making a pot of coffee for Kyle. While it brewed, he pretended to be focused on the computer.

Kyle ran a finger along a display of space operas on the coffee bar. “You have the best sci-fi and fantasy collection.”

“Thanks, it’s what we’re known for. Plus, it’s my favorite thing to read.”

“Mine too.”

“I know. Just look in the box. Not a cozy mystery in the lot.”

He laughed, and Forrester loved the deep rumble of it. “I love to read. It’s better than the movies.”

“Do you go to movies?” Forrester asked.

Kyle made a face. “Why? You think I wouldn’t go to a movie because I’m deaf?”

“That’s not what I meant,” he insisted, eyes wide.

But Kyle was laughing—at Forrester if he wasn’t mistaken. “I was just kidding you.”

After an awkward moment, he chuckled too. “Brat.”

“Guilty.” Kyle’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “But it was worth it to see your face get all red. You’re cute when you blush.”

Face flaming further, Forrester looked down at the books, not sure what to say. Kyle thinks I’m cute!

“You know,” Kyle went on, “most people only want to watch action movies. They don’t realize how much effort goes into the backstory of a good book and how you really get to experience the world so much better.”

“Well, you know the wizard’s first rule.”

“Yeah,” Kyle said. “People are stupid.”

He sniffed in surprised agreement, his throat too tight to speak when Kyle got the Goodkind reference.

“My nonna loves movies. She made us watch all kinds of old-fashioned movies. Rodgers and Hammerstein musicals, Hitchcock films.” Forrester knew he was just filling the room with empty chatter, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Her favorite movie was Pillow Talk with Doris Day and Rock Hudson.”

“Never seen it.”

“Maybe we could watch it sometime.”

“Sounds great.”

When the coffee finished, he poured Kyle a mug and handed it over.

“Thank you.” Kyle blew on the surface of the steaming brew.

Trying not to become fixated on those plush lips, Forrester returned to the books. An author he wasn’t familiar with caught his eye. “Who’s Italo Calvino?”

“Italian guy from the sixties.” He pointed at the copy of The Complete Cosmicomics. “I got it because there’s a story in there with a character called the Deaf One, but it’s really just a trippy story about the universe’s creation. I won’t read it again.”

Forrester chuckled. One of the first things that drew him to sci-fi was the gender-bending aliens, intersex beings, or subtly gay characters. It offered him stories he could relate to, better than the cookie-cutter gay man of Hollywood, as he explored his own sexuality. It stood to reason that Kyle would gravitate to books that also featured deaf characters.

“This is good, though.” Kyle set his mug down and handed him another book.

“The Persistence of Vision,” he said, glancing at the blurb. “You know, I’ve never read Varley. I have him on my e-reader, but just haven’t read him.”

“What?” Kyle’s mouth dropped open.

“Is he good?” He studied the artwork on the cover.

“Excellent. That book is a bunch of his short stories. One has a whole community where everyone is deaf and blind. They communicate through bodytalk and the Touch.”

Forrester quirked his brows. “Sounds kinky.”

“A little bit.” He smiled. “Keep that copy. It’ll be better than reading it on your e-reader, because it still smells like the weird bookstore where I bought it in Florida.”

He laughed, then smelled the musty paperback. “If I read it in bed, will sand fall out? That happened to me once with a used book.”

Kyle shrugged. “No, I think you’re safe from beach sand.”

“Thank you.” Setting the book aside with the other book Kyle gave him, he returned to cataloging. But he paused when he saw one particular book. “Jeez.”

“What?”

“This is sacrilege, Kyle.” He held up a copy of Jules Verne’s 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. “How can you get rid of this? It’s a classic.”

“I already have five copies.”

“Five? Why so many?”

“Because Verne is, like, the father of sci-fi and steampunk. Him and Wells, that is. To realize Verne thought of all those things before they were ever invented is amazing. Almost makes you wonder if we’ll be beaming people places one day. Sometimes I just see a copy and buy it. For sentimental reasons. It was my dad’s favorite book and the first sci-fi I ever read. After that, I was hooked.”

He can’t be serious….

“Come with me,” Forrester announced with sudden boyish enthusiasm. “I wanna show you something.”

Intrigued, Kyle followed him into the disorderly back room. Thunder echoed outside as Forrester moved a box to open a desk drawer. “You’re gonna love this,” he promised, making sure to move his head so Kyle could see his lips.

“Do you live here?” Kyle fingered the blanket sticking up on the edge of the unmade futon.

“Um, no. Sometimes I sleep here, though.”

“Workaholic, eh?”

“I kinda still live at home. Sometimes I just need my own space.” Please don’t think I’m a loser! “After college and my dad dying, I moved back home to help out. My little brother was getting into trouble at school, and my oldest was married with two kids. Tony was still at the academy—” Stop babbling! “—so, you know? I was more available. Then Nonna moved in with us because she couldn’t be on her own anymore. Ma likes having me and Joey there to help. And with no rent, it let me save money to open the bookstore.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself.” The corner of Kyle’s mouth turned up in an almost seductive smile.

It took a bit to locate what he sought, with his hands trembling from nerves and excitement, but when he did, Forrester stood and presented it to him. “Check that out.”

He waited for the reaction, and Kyle didn’t disappoint. His face lit up when he realized what he held. “Is this…?”

“First edition,” he said proudly.

“Oh, gosh, where did you get a first edition of 20,000 Leagues?”

Enjoying his enthusiasm, Forrester said, “Go on, take it out of the plastic.”

Grinning, Kyle removed the book and handed the bag back to Forrester. He opened to the first page with a careful finger, as if the tome in his hand were unspeakably precious.

As Kyle stroked the cover with just the pads of his fingers, Forrester got lost imagining those fingertips doing the same to his naked chest. Standing this close, he could smell that decadent scent from Kyle’s jacket. Though he was a good six inches taller than Kyle, their shoulders were the same width.

Hastily, he cleared his throat. “It belonged to Gramps. It was the first sci-fi book he gave me to read.”

“This one?” he asked in disbelief.

Forrester chuckled. “No, not that particular copy. He gave me a ratty old paperback. He had quite a few first editions.”

“This is so cool.” Those adorable dimples appeared on Kyle’s cheeks, and Forrester’s breath caught in his chest.

The storm howled outside, but Forrester focused on the sound of Kyle breathing, how it synched with his own. And how badly he wanted to touch his skin and kiss him. Feel the contours of those muscles.

He placed a hand on the back of Kyle’s, and Kyle sucked in a breath. They stared at their hands, touching on top of a book they both cherished as a child. His hand was warm, the skin softer near his wrist.

After a moment, Kyle placed the book carefully on the desk. “You’re single, right?” His face scrunched. “That cute guy with the brown hair who comes in here, he isn’t…?”

“Lucas? No, just a friend. I’m totally single.” Blood thundered in his ears, warming his skin as Kyle took a step forward. He readjusted his glasses on his nose.

When Kyle stood mere inches away, he looked up through long eyelashes. “Good, that’ll make this a whole lot less awkward.”

Before Forrester could ask what he meant, Kyle rose on his tiptoes and kissed him.

A soft, hesitant kiss, only a brush of lips. No body contact at all.

Kyle chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve wanted to do that forever. Was that okay?”

“No, it wasn’t.”

Kyle’s brows shot up and he went to step back.

Before he got away, Forrester hooked his finger in the front of his jeans and tugged him closer, until their chests almost touched. Slowly, deliberately, he ran his tongue across Kyle’s upper lip before lightly kissing those pouty lips. He moaned a little. They were like pillows!

“Was that okay?” Forrester asked, fighting a grin.

Catching on, Kyle shook his head. “No. It wasn’t. You better try again.”

“I can do that.” Breathless, he used his lips to part Kyle’s fuller ones, slipping his tongue into the soft wet insides at the same time he pressed into him. He groaned into the kiss, loving the solid feel of their bodies firmly together now.

Kyle pulled back and tucked Forrester’s hair tenderly behind his ears. “This isn’t too fast, is it?”

“Nope.” Forrester tightened his hold. They both smiled nervously. “I already know everything I need to know about you.”

The corners of Kyle’s lips rose. “You do?”

“Yes. You’re sexy and funny. You hold doors open for people. You love Doctor Who and sports. You drink your coffee black. And you smell like heaven.”

“Heaven, eh?”

“Yes,” he agreed, surprised by how much he meant it. “I’ve been crazy about you since we first met.”

Kyle’s cheeks pinkened. “Yeah?”

He nodded.

Kyle chewed on his lower lip, then said, “The feeling’s mutual.”

With a soft chuckle, Forrester claimed his delicious mouth once more, kissing Kyle as if he might never get a chance to kiss anyone again. No hesitation in their touch, they embraced, and Forrester took the kiss deeper. It felt easy, right. Brand-new, but also as comfortable as if they’d been like this a million times before.

He made love to Kyle’s mouth with his tongue, creating a whole new definition of oral sex. He licked the inside of his upper lip, then sucked gently on his lower one. Then he licked the tip of his chin, up to that dip below his lip, tasting him.

Kyle giggled and squirmed away.

“I’m so glad you came in tonight,” Forrester said. “I was trying to find you online earlier.”

“You were?”

“Yeah, thought I’d message you.” He shifted closer, feeling Kyle’s hardness against his leg. “Maybe ask you out.”

Kyle smiled dreamily. “I’ve been waiting for you to do that.”

“But I didn’t see you online.”

“With work, I can’t have public accounts with my name,” Kyle explained. “Mostly I Instagram as my dog, Jasper. He has a ton of followers.”

“Oh, man, that’s so cute.”

“You’re cute.”

Loving the way Kyle’s speech softened as his arousal heightened, Forrester brushed his silky blond hair behind his ear. His finger caught on something. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

Shaking his head, Kyle reached up. “It’s okay.” He popped out a device from behind his ear—a round disk connected by a wire to a curved piece. “I have a cochlear implant.” He held up his hair so Forrester could see the skin around his ear where it looked like he’d shaved a small patch about the size of a silver dollar. His hair was thick enough and long enough, Forrester had never noticed it. When he placed the disk back on the shaved part of the scalp, it moved a bit on its own. The other part hugged the shell of his ear and on top. “This is my speech processor. A magnet inside my head holds it in place. The processor picks up sounds and sends them to the implant in my inner ear and the implant translates the vibrations to my brain.”

Intrigued, Forrester studied it, then looked back at Kyle’s face. “Can you hear anything without it?”

Kyle shook his head. “No, I was born deaf.”

“When did you get the implant?”

“When I was seven.”

He stroked Kyle’s hair above the device. “So you never heard anything at all until you got the implant?”

His smile softened. “Not really. Hearing aids let me pick up really high-pitched sounds, but nothing useful.”

“When you take the processor thing out, can you hear anything?”

“No,” he said, chuckling. “The two pieces work together.”

Suddenly Forrester felt like a jerk, asking things so personal. “I’m sorry. Am I being rude, asking?”

He kissed Forrester’s cheek. “Not at all. You can ask me anything.”

A million questions came to him, most probably stupid, so rather than ask, he said, “I bet it was pretty cool when you first got it, huh?”

“Actually, no it wasn’t,” Kyle admitted, running a hand down Forrester’s chest. “I was used to the quiet, to silence. The stillness of it. Then to all of a sudden hear things behind me, all around? It was pretty overwhelming at first. Painful actually. And so loud. I just remember crying the first time they turned it on.”

“Aww,” he said, feeling horrible. “I’m sorry.”

Kyle shrugged. “I’d never heard so many sounds, not even my own voice, and it was really scary. I mean, I was only a kid.” His brows furrowed. “I can’t believe I just told you that.”

He smiled. “I have a very inviting face.”

“You do. I’m used to the CI now, but I like to be quiet too. If I’m stressed, I take it out.”

He smiled and brushed a finger across Kyle’s cheek, feeling the faint scratch of stubble. “I wouldn’t mind having a device to turn my family’s noise off.”

“It does come in handy when I’m sick of listening to someone. I take it out at work when I’m busy or when people are getting on my nerves. I pretend I have a headache so no one thinks I’m being rude.”

Forrester threw back his head and laughed. “That’s sneaky.”

“I’m not above milking my disability once in a while.”

He swayed their hips together. “You’re naughty.”

“Sometimes.” Kyle’s strong, confident hands roamed over Forrester, pausing on the contours of his lower stomach. “Hmmm,” he purred as he traced the muscles through his shirt. “Somebody works out.”

“Baseball.” A violent rush of desire plummeted through Forrester at the feel of those curious fingers.

“What position do you play?”

“On the field, shortstop.” He leaned down to inhale the scent of Kyle’s hair at his nape. Heaven…. Making sure to whisper into his processor, he added, “But in bed, I play whatever position you want.”

“Oh my,” Kyle breathed, his words falling off in a breathless laugh.

His cock hardened, and he wrapped his arms tighter around Kyle. “You got a condom?”

“Um, no.” His eyes widened. “Do you?”

With a groan, Forrester’s head dropped to Kyle’s shoulder and he bit back a curse. Recently he’d taken a play out of Holly’s dating handbook. She wore granny panties on first dates to avoid jumping into bed too soon. Forrester had tossed his wallet condom for the same reason. Dammit!

Balloon deflated but not his cock, Forrester looked at Kyle. “I stopped carrying one in my wallet a while ago. Figured it would keep me on good behavior.”

Kyle chuckled. “Maybe it’s a sign.” His words were rushed as he tried to catch his breath too. “Like maybe we should cool off.”

His stomach leaped, and he loosened his hold on Kyle but didn’t let him go. Then his brows rose hopefully. “There’s other stuff we can do that doesn’t require a condom.” Blowjobs, hand jobs, sixty-nine, jerking off….

Smiling, Kyle placed both hands on Forrester’s chest and took a step back. “What if I told you I’m not that kind of guy?”

“I would say I’m extremely disappointed,” Forrester said. “But also inexplicably pleased.”

Kyle glanced away, and then those hazel eyes captured his once more, stealing Forrester’s breath. “I like you. I like you a lot. I know I kissed you first, but how about we just hang out? Get to know each other better before we get naked?”

But I wanna get naked, his inner horndog whined.

Though his entire body was taut with need, Forrester licked his lips and nodded. When he released Kyle and stepped away, it was painful, the loss of contact. He shoved his hands in his pockets before he pulled Kyle back into his arms. “What do you wanna do, then? Have a coffee and read that book?”

Kyle adjusted the swell in his jeans. “You’re persistent.”

“I had to try,” he teased. But he respected that Kyle wanted to cool things off—which wouldn’t happen if they were alone much longer. “You hungry? I’m always hungry. We could go grab a bite to eat somewhere?” Like back at your house, where you probably have condoms, so we can fuck….

“The Riverbend is open,” Kyle suggested.

“Yeah, okay.”

Though still rock-hard and horny, Forrester didn’t want a guy like Kyle to be categorized as a hookup. His attraction to Kyle had been powerful and overwhelming right from the beginning, and while it shocked him in a way, he didn’t want to burn off his lust without seeing where things could go between them.

And learning more about Kyle would only make the sex better.