The smell of coffee woke me.

It took me a moment to remember where I was, my brain trying to superimpose the room at the spa over this one. A clank of a dish from outside the closed door brought it back to me. All of it. Gilbert at the spa, him fucking me, partially waking up in the middle of the night and pulling him closer. Holy shit. I’d spent the night with Gilbert.

Another clank, louder this time, and the scotch came back to me as well. I winced. The headache wasn’t horrible, but for sure noticeable. I could not have a hangover. Not after three shots of liquor. Another clank, another wince. It seemed I did have a hangover. A small one but there nonetheless. Small enough I wasn’t about to let Gilbert realize it was there.

Gilbert.

I was worried about my hangover, and Gilbert was just on the other side of the door. I’d spent the night with Gilbert.

In many ways, it had lived up to the few fantasies I’d indulged in. The man was a sex god, basically. He’d felt amazing in me. And his body, I mean, come on. That body was orgasm-worthy on its own. But something had been different from the first time. Gilbert had been different.

The sex had been hot, but also… strange. The kisses on the earth-shattering side of things, which, my God, had been amazing. Kissing Gilbert was beyond what I’d hoped. I’d expected fireworks of the porn variety and had gotten fireworks of the Disney kind instead. Granted, the grown-up, naked, if cartoons did porn version, but still. Not at all what I’d envisioned with Gilbert Bryant.

He’d almost felt fragile. In a different way than his wounded-bird quality indicated. I didn’t know what to do with that. I also wasn’t certain whether it made him more appealing or a bit more terrifying.

And speaking of terrifying, Gilbert was still outside the bedroom door. At some point, we’d see each other again. What was I supposed to say? Thank you for a good fuck? I loved spending the night with you. I hope you didn’t notice me kiss your forehead as you slept, I promise I’m not crazy. I really want to spend another night with you, so yeah, maybe I am a bit crazy.

And what did I wear? Did I walk out naked? I was certain part of staying over came with the price of a morning fuck. A price I’d like to pay about a thousand times over, but should I start it with showing off morning wood? Maybe just underwear? He seemed especially attracted to my chest, so it would probably be good to leave that bare.

Ultimately, all the thinking just stressed me out and left me feeling insecure. And I was labeling Gilbert a wounded bird. I had no room to talk. I was basically the roadrunner after he finally got caught by the coyote. I decided to go halfway and pulled on my boxers and T-shirt. Sexy enough for easy access but covered enough to feel somewhat protected.

After a stabilizing breath, I opened the bedroom door and stepped out. I’d chosen right. Gilbert was in the kitchen, his back to me, and he wore sweatpants and a tank top.

Maybe feeling my gaze, he looked over his shoulder. His smile grew as he turned to face me. He looked nervous, but like he was glad to see me? I really needed to stop trying to read into every single expression he made.

“Morning, sleepyhead. Hope I didn’t wake you with the noise.”

“Nah, though the smell of coffee was too good to sleep through.” I glanced at the window. The day was bright. I realized I hadn’t even checked my cell. “What time is it?”

“Almost nine. I hope you didn’t have something you wanted to get back to at the spa early this morning. You looked so peaceful sleeping, I didn’t want to wake you.” He walked over to the other counter and poured a mug of coffee.

Right, back to the spa. “No, not at all. My friends aren’t coming until tomorrow, so no plans.” God, could I hint any less subtly?

He walked over with the mug. “Oh, I didn’t know you had friends coming.”

That threw me off for a second before I realized I’d told the lackluster Gilbert wannabe my schedule. “Yeah, some of my”—I nearly said teacher friends, but knew better than to mention that word—“friends from grad school are joining me. We’re going to spend the days skiing at Heavenly Mountain and the nights soaking up the hot springs.” Please ask me to change my plans. To cancel my friends and stay with you for the rest of the week. Cursing my pathetic desire, I took the mug from him. “Thanks.”

“Of course. There’s cream and sugar on the counter, if you want.” He motioned back toward the kitchen. “So no plans today, huh?”

My heart leaped. “Nope.”

Gilbert walked back to the kitchen. Maybe he was considering asking me to stay, maybe he wasn’t. “Breakfast will be ready soon. Help yourself to the shower and stuff if you need. Got about ten minutes.”

“You didn’t have to make breakfast.”

He laughed. “Well, you may regret that I did. Andrew and his dad are the great cooks. I’m pretty sure I’m in the process of turning the bacon into bricks.”

He could feed me pond scum and I’d be touched he made me breakfast. And rather confused by it. Gilbert didn’t seem the type to cook for a hookup. “In that case, how about I take a three-minute shower instead of ten. That will decrease the odds of burning breakfast.”

“It won’t, actually. No matter what I cook, it goes from raw to burnt. There’s no in-between.” He grinned, though his expression was walled off. “Go shower. Your breakfast is doomed either way.”

“All right, my coffee and I will be back shortly.” I retrieved my bag from beside the bed and then locked myself in the bathroom.

Brushing my teeth made me feel a little more human, and the few sips of coffee mixed with the hot shower eased the baby headache. As the night before, I was getting mixed messages from Gilbert. He was making me breakfast, but there hadn’t been any flirting or touches or hints of sex later. Did he still see me as a hookup? Had I crossed into the friend zone? Was I overthinking coffee and burnt breakfast? Yeah, probably.

After drying off, I put my boxers and T-shirt back on, grabbed my empty mug and left the bathroom.

Gilbert had set the small table by the window overlooking the lake. “I was right, breakfast is burnt, but I’ve got some raspberry preserves, if you cover the bacon and eggs in that, you won’t notice.”

I couldn’t suppress a shudder. “That sounds awful.”

He shrugged. “Actually, it works pretty well. When you cook like me, you learn tricks to cover up what you’ve done.”

“You really didn’t have to make me breakfast. I feel bad that you went to the trouble.”

“I wanted to. It’s nice having—” A blush rose to his cheeks, the first I’d ever seen on him, and he gave a quick shake of his head. “Like I said, you won’t thank me after you’ve tasted it, but my mother is Southern. She drilled into me that you cook for guests. So, I cooked.”

I was a guest. Okay, then. That could be a billion different things. I helped myself to another cup of coffee, more to give my hands something to do than anything else, and then sat at the table while Gilbert brought over the platter of eggs, bacon, and toast. Sure enough, all three were burnt. I grinned up at him, hoping he could hear the humor in my voice. “You weren’t kidding, were you?”

“Nope.” He set down the platter and then twisted to grab a large glass jar off the counter. “Here’s the preserves. Robert made them… er…. Robert is Andrew’s dad.” Gilbert sat and reached out his hand, letting it hover in the air between us.

I took it tentatively.

“You wanna say grace, or me?”

I nearly dropped his hand. “You want to pray?”

He nodded seriously, then a smile broke through. “Damn, I really thought I could pull that off. I so wanted to see your reaction and hear what you’d pray about.” He chuckled. “Though, it’s probably good we didn’t try. I’m pretty certain if I prayed, lightning would be the only answer we got.”

I snorted. “Yeah, you and me both.”

Suddenly we were aware we were holding hands. Granted, awkwardly holding hands, but holding hands nonetheless. I started to pull away, but Gilbert gave a quick squeeze before letting go. “Thanks for staying last night.”

For some reason my throat constricted, leaving me no other choice but to nod. I couldn’t deny I was feeling so much more for him than I should, than made any sense.

Looking uncomfortable, Gilbert focused on his food. He didn’t taste it before lathering the bacon with preserves.

I took a bite of mine, then followed suit.

“Told ya.” Gilbert took a big mouthful of the bacon and gave a satisfied nod. “Robert knows what he’s doing.”

Surprisingly the combo of burnt bacon and sweet raspberry was pretty good. Much better than anticipated. “Huh, you were right. Though I’m not sure I trust you on the eggs and preserves.”

“It’s not as good as the bacon, but it still helps.”

Awkward silence fell, but it wasn’t tense. Nothing felt like we needed to rush through to get it over with. I simply didn’t know what to say. Gilbert didn’t seem to either.

The eggs were terrible, with or without the preserves, so I stuffed them between two burnt pieces of toast.

“Huh.” Gilbert copied and then nodded in approval. “Where were you years ago? You literally just changed my life.”

And no, I wasn’t going to read into that. All he meant was that I’d upgraded disgusting eggs to tolerable. Not that he wanted me in his life. Even the fantasy of that flitting through my mind should’ve been enough to cause me to stab myself in the eye with a fork. “Sandwiches cure anything.”

“Apparently.”

We were talking about food. We had crazy sexual energy, and we were still there talking about food! This had to end. But I couldn’t figure out how to do it, other than standing up and stripping off my clothes. I considered that option, far more seriously than I should’ve. But doing so would’ve required another shot or two of scotch.

“So, I was thinking.” Gilbert’s gaze focused on his sandwich, not darting toward me at all. “I got up early this morning to work on a design that’s due next week. I’m actually pretty close to getting it done. Do you mind if I wrap it up after breakfast? It should only take a half hour or so.”

Seemed like a strange request, but it meant more time with him. Awkward or not, I didn’t care. “No, that sounds good. Like I said, there’s no plans for me to get back to. Take all the time you need.”

“Yeah?” He glanced at me then. “I was also thinking, after I’m done with that, if you wanted to hang out for a while, we could….” He shrugged. “You know….”

My God, he was nervous. I suppose that should’ve been obvious, but the idea of Gilbert being nervous about me was stupid. And kinda wonderful. “I’d like that, and my friends aren’t coming until around noon tomorrow. I’ve got all day.” Maybe I was pushing my luck, but I wanted to make it overtly clear I wanted as much of his time as he was willing to give.

Again, his smile was unreadable. Whether the idea sounded good to him or not, I couldn’t tell. “Okay, great. I’ll wrap the project up.” A familiar glint came into his eyes. “And then I’ll focus on your ass. I had plans for it last night, but I got… carried away.”

“Oh.” The switch was so abrupt that it threw me. My cock was quicker than my brain, however, and it sprang to life, thankfully hidden under the table. At least I supposed thankfully was the right word.

“That okay?” He sounded a bit nervous again.

“Oh, yeah. That’s totally, totally okay! More than okay.”

“Great.” He nodded, and Gilbert was back again. “I’ll wrap this up and then make up for feeding you a burnt breakfast.”

Lavender Shores was my dream home, but as I leaned against the railing of Gilbert’s front porch, I had to admit he’d chosen a location nearly as good. The sky and the surface of the lake battled to see which could pull off the deepest blue. The sky won, as the crystalline water around the shoreline was closer to teal. Though the cabin was near the edge of the cliff, it still felt part of the nature around it, not perched above it all. High enough to see the entire view, but the rocks under the shallower portions of the lake were still visible.

Though I’d pictured Gilbert in some fancy city high-rise, complete with marble entryways, doormen, and astronomical taxes, the few hours of the night before and breakfast had altered him in some way. This made more sense. In the trees, away from people, surrounded by beauty. A reclusive artist, not a wounded bird. Although I supposed he could be both.

I’d gone back to the kitchen to refill my coffee. Gilbert had been so intent on his design he hadn’t noticed the sound of the door or my movement. It hadn’t even felt weird to pause and watch him as I poured more caffeine into my veins. Gilbert himself was an art exhibit. His long chestnut bangs hung over his forehead as he worked. The fingers of his left hand drummed a rhythm as his right wielded a pencil. He chewed absentmindedly on his lower lip in a nearly seductive fashion, though he clearly didn’t notice my presence. I only lasted a minute before the urge to touch him became too strong and I returned to the porch, coffee in hand.

Yeah, this place suited him. Though, so did Lavender Shores. It had the same beauty. Actually, Lavender Shores seemed to fit what I knew of Gilbert more than the lake. This was serene and picturesque. Calm. Lavender Shores could be all those things, but there, the beauty was a bit wilder, more untamed, at least once you left the borders of the perfectly crafted houses and shops and entered the reserve. Gilbert seemed anything but tamed.

There I was, staring out at the gorgeous world, and trying to interpret the essence of Gilbert. Ridiculous. I pulled out my cell and swiped across the screen. It was more than ridiculous to log on to Facebook when surrounded by such nature, but I wanted my brain to be turned off. The last thing I needed, when it seemed there were very specific plans for my ass coming up shortly, was to get all cerebral and over-analytical about the man in the other room. The man who by the power of his kisses, sexual talent, and raspberry preserves was making my heart beat in a rhythm that wasn’t conducive to hooking up and walking away.

The breeze shifted, bringing a cool gust over my legs. I’d thrown on a sweater but remained in my boxers. Probably another stupid decision. I was going to have balls the size of raisins from the cold. Not exactly the image I wanted for whatever plans Gilbert had, but going back in seemed like too much work. And I didn’t want to disturb him.

Facebook did the distracting thing that it does so well. I scrolled past the nearly endless posts of our moronic president—he was literally the last thing I wanted on my mind before sex—and kept going until I saw a link for the new volume of the Saga graphic novels. I nearly clicked on it when I noticed I had a friend request. I tapped it instead.

Look at that. Turns out the idiot-in-chief wasn’t the last thing I needed on my mind before sex.

Levi Teller stared up at me from my phone screen. Handsome. Smiling. Looking every bit like a kind, honest, genuine man. Everything he wasn’t.

Teller.

I’d known him as Levi Mason.

I wanted to drop my phone, or throw it over the cliff, or drown it in my mug of coffee. Instead, it remained frozen in my hand. Levi watched me from the screen, waiting to see what I would do.

I’d figured this day would come. I would see his face somewhere, or worse, bump into the man himself. I thought I’d be prepared for it, but I wasn’t. Not now. Not here. Not with Gilbert so close and the things we were going to do. The things I was feeling, even if I shouldn’t be feeling them. I’d imagined I’d cry when I finally saw Levi, instantly grieve over what we’d lost. I didn’t feel that at all. I just wanted him to go away. To erase his face from my mind. From my memory.

A thought hit, and a certainty filled me. I tapped my messages, knowing what I would find. It wasn’t in the main section, the place for friends. It was in the Other folder. The one I forgot except for once a year or so when someone else would mention it on Facebook. I clicked its tab. Sure enough, there it was.

A message from Levi Teller.

If I opened it, he’d know I’d seen it. I could delete it and be done with it. Move on with the day. Refocus on the lake. Wonder what specific things Gilbert had in store for our bodies.

Of course I didn’t do any of that.

I tapped the message and read.

Hey Walden,

I’ve missed you. It’s been too long without seeing your beautiful face. I know that’s my fault, but it’s still true.

I hope you are well and happy. I hope you miss me.

I’m not sure if you’ll see this message. I sent you a friend request, so maybe you will. You changed your phone number. I thought maybe you’d blocked me, but I tried calling from a different phone, and it still didn’t go through. Got to be honest, that hurts a little. But, I understand. Like I said, I know it’s my fault.

I could hear him speak the words in my ear. The soothing cadence he had, the soft honey tone. Seductive yet innocent. How many times had his tone convinced me, even more than his words? Something would feel strange or just a touch off. I’d ask about it, and within ten seconds I was convinced that I was being dramatic or looking for issues when there were none. Even now, though the words said it was his fault, I felt the sting of accusation. I’d abandoned him. I hadn’t allowed him to explain. It was my fault, and we both knew it.

And all that was a lie. A fucking, fucking lie.

Yet still he whispered over my shoulder as I read.

I called your folks the other day. Barely got two words out before your mom hung up on me. Though I suppose that wasn’t much different from when we were together. I’d love to see you. I hate that I can’t call you, that I don’t know where you are. Knowing you, I bet you’ve made your way to Lavender Shores. I remember how much you talked about it. Maybe I’ll drive up there sometime. We have a lot to talk about.

I left Rachel. It’s over. It’s been over ever since you walked away. I’m sorry it took me this long to finally end it. But I did. For you, Walden. I left her for you.

I know you need time. I’m not going to stalk you or go all nutty. I promise. You deserve your space, and I’ll give it to you. But I deserve a phone call at some point. I’ll settle for messaging on here for now, if you want. But we should see each other. Everything will fall back into place when we see each other. I promise.

I have more to tell you, but it can wait until we’re together.

Let me know.

I love you,

L.

I read the damn thing through again. Just a tingle of fear creeping in. Alongside it, despite my determination to feel otherwise, a spark of hope flared as well. I’d spent months praying for a message like this. That he’d come out. That he wanted me. That we could have the life we’d been living again. At least the life I thought we’d had.

And now here it was. Longer than I hoped it would take, but it was here. He wanted me back.

My God.

I hit the Home button, making the message disappear.

What the fuck was wrong with me? Thank God he’d taken so long to write. Any sooner and I might have given in. What I’d felt was a lie. All of it. Our years together were a lie, both of them. None of it was real. I’d been in love with a man who didn’t exist. I didn’t know anything about Levi Mason, or Levi Teller for that matter, besides the fact that he was a fucked-up, evil bastard.

And he knew I’d seen the message.

I clicked back on Facebook, moving as quickly as I could. I hadn’t noticed when he’d sent the message, so chances were high he’d written it the day before and he wasn’t waiting by his phone to see if it had been marked read. But I wasn’t taking the chance. I tapped his profile picture once more, this time not bothering to linger on his fucking face, then hit the ellipsis on the right of the screen and selected Block. It asked me if I was sure I wanted to block Levi Teller.

I couldn’t contain the laugh as I confirmed that I most definitely wanted to block the fucker.

He was gone again.

“What’s so funny? Find a good meme you can share?”

The transition from thoughts of Levi to the sound of Gilbert’s voice was nearly enough to rip the fabric of the universe. He was shutting the door and walking onto the porch as I turned toward him.

And suddenly, everything was fixed. Well, no, maybe not fixed, but all right. Just the sight of him brought relief. I was here, with this beautiful man, in this beautiful place, on a beautiful day. And Levi couldn’t touch me. I wouldn’t let him. This beauty was for me. Right here and right now.

I shook my head. “No, no memes. At least not a specific one. Just a whole slew of things about the president.” Not a lie. That was there before, and some had been funny. Kinda.

Gilbert grimaced. “Oh no. I’ll pass on those. The day is way too gorgeous to ruin with that shit.”

“I was just thinking the same thing, actually.” I leaned back on the railing, still facing him as he took a spot close to me. “Finished your design?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, then looked out to the water and a relaxed smile curved his lips. He had so many smiles. Most of them wicked and sexy, but here was a new one. And it only added to the day’s beauty. “Just scanned them and sent them off. I’m pretty sure she’ll love the design.” He gave a little laugh, and his brown gaze flicked to me for a moment. “If someone had told me that I’d be designing jewelry with Western stars as a theme, I’d have told them they had about a minute to run before I shot them. But the money is good.”

“You looked pretty happy while you were working, like you were proud of what you were doing. I didn’t see dollar signs in front of your face.”

His brows knitted, then smoothed. His expression softened further as he studied me.

“Sorry. I probably shouldn’t have said—”

“No, you’re right. I am proud of it. The design was good. I managed to keep my aesthetic while giving her what she wanted. An artist can’t ask for much more than that and hope to pay bills.” It felt like we were touching, though he was several inches away. It was strange, but nice. “You’re quite the observant man, Walden.”

I shrugged. “Well, I do have my masters in biology. I’m kind of a scientist. Part of why I love Lavender Shores so much. I could spend years wandering the woods or down by the ocean. I’m a trained observer.” I realized I’d just brought up another tender topic.

He didn’t seem to mind this time. “Scientist, huh. That means you teach science?”

I nodded. All too aware we’d treaded further into dangerous territory.

For a second it looked like he was going to ask more, but then, with a small shake of his head, he switched topics. “Not sure if you need more caffeine, but if you have all the energy you need for a couple hours of sex, now might be a great time for me to take you downstairs.”

Couple hours of sex?

Levi tried to enter my mind, but I told him to fuck off.

“You have a downstairs?”

“It was just a crawl space when I moved in, but I had it dug out and drywalled, then I made my version of a sex dungeon.”

I laughed, then noticed there was no humor in his expression. “Oh. You’re serious.”

“Yeah.” He licked his lips. “Does that freak you out?”

Made my blood quicken was what it did. As well as set off a warning alarm. I told that to fuck off as well. “Show me.”

His smile grew to the one I knew best. Sinful, lustful, and promising a very, very good end to the morning.

He led me back through the house and into the bedroom. He opened one of the doors that I’d figured was a closet, flipped on a light, and stepped in.

The brightly lit staircase down felt like the rest of the house, and then he opened the door at the bottom and flicked another light switch. It was unlike any sex dungeon I’d seen. But it fit Gilbert.

I nearly laughed. It was so him. An artistic, yuppie version of a sex dungeon. The space was striking. The far wall was brick. The other three matched the rest of the house, wood, rock, smooth drywall in a rich tone. Exposed industrial hardware and Edison bulbs. I grinned over at him. “Edison bulbs, really? I think the BDSM masters will kick you out of their club.”

Gilbert shrugged again, unconcerned. “I’m not into BDSM. No problem with it, and I can enjoy it at low levels sometimes, but it’s not my gig.” He pointed to a large cabinet, different toys and utensils on its shelves. “I simply like fucking, and I really like taking care of a man who’s a total bottom, like you.”

Sometimes I was embarrassed about just how much of a bottom I was, but the way he said it, like it was a good thing, a quality he was not only okay with but wanted, made my cock twitch.

“I might use restraints and stuff sometimes, but I can’t claim BDSM status. It would be like me saying I’m a cowboy because of my straw hat.” He gestured around the room, encompassing different benches, platforms, tools. “But like I said, I like to take care of a bottom. And while my dick is pretty great”—he winked—“sometimes I like to use a little assistance to really get the job done.” He walked over to me and gripped my cock through my boxers. “Feels like that sounds good to you.”

I nodded, all thoughts of earlier, or what was to come later, obliterated by the feel of his hand on me, the anticipation of what he might do.

He wrapped his fingers around the base of my cock, not bothering to remove the fabric, and pulled me to him, as he lifted his chin to bring his lips closer to my ear. “I want you in the sling. Get those ankles tied in the air, so I can open you up. Fuck your ass with one of my big dildos, see if you can take it and my cock at the same time.”

At the mention of the sling, all desire washed away. He must have felt my reaction, and he loosened his grip around my dick.

He took a step back. “What’s wrong? What’d I say?”

“You have a—” Even as I spoke, I looked around. Sure enough, behind us, secured under the slope of the stairs was a sling. Then the moment faded, Gilbert was gone, and I felt the leather around my ankles and wrists, the firm straps supporting my back, and countless hands over my skin.