Dreaming in Color by Cameron Dane (autobiographies to read .TXT) 📕

of his back cracked Colin's heart. “I'm sorry,” he said softly. “I have to go.”

Colin stood, impotent, at a loss what to say or do. “You're not even dressed. You don't have any shoes.”

“Keep them. I don't care.” After his first steps, Marek picked up speed. His voice barely carried on a sudden gust of wind as he said, “I have to go home.”

The cresting swells of the ocean grew bigger, as if the crackle of human emotions swirling in the air ruled the tides.

Colin watched Marek run away. His chest hurt, but his mind was a mash of ideas on how to proceed.

He only wished he knew which one to choose.

Chapter Ten

Marek paced all around his house, up and down the stairs, moving in and out of shafts of light from various sources blazing in the house. Wind whipped in through the open windows, floating the curtains near to the ceiling like specters in the night. Gentle spits of rain that foretold an upcoming storm dotted the windowsills and floor, but Marek welcomed the forces of nature too much to shut them out.

Christ. He had been so close to having Colin right on the beach, no thought to his choice or the myriad of consequences at all. Just a fulfillment of pure, unbridled need. It was more than his cock that ached to be inside a man again, though. For a couple of hours tonight, while socializing with Colin's friends, Marek had felt very nearly human and like he belonged back in the world with other people.

Colin was responsible for that.

I like him as much as I want him, and that is so, so dangerous for me to feel.

The man had a way about him that drew smiles to the faces of everyone around him. Even Marek, for a little while. Marek could see how much Colin's friends adored him, and he could feel their quiet scrutiny, not so much judging Marek for the sake of it, but rather watching him to decide if he was good enough for their dear friend. For a short time, because of Colin's ease and accessibility, Marek had forgotten he wasn't good enough for Colin Baxter.

His friends wouldn't want me anywhere near him if they knew the pain I brought him so long ago.

Damn it. Colin's personality, just feeling his spirit, had temporarily overshadowed Marek's lifetime of guilt, something he never thought would happen. He hadn't been entirely honest when Colin asked if he had ever had dreams about the guy in the past two years. Truth was, ever since Payton died, Marek had lived with nightmares of his murder. In those dreams, Marek would often twist Payton's death with Colin's assault, making the guilt of Marek's part in the beating hellish enough to jerk him out of sleep. Yet somehow, strangely, ever since Colin showed up in Fiji, the man's presence had soothed Marek just as much as he stoked Marek's fear of discovery.

Marek didn't care about himself, but goddamnit, being around Colin for just these few days, he didn't think he would survive seeing hatred, hurt, and disgust in Colin's eyes. Directed at him.

You probably already hurt him plenty tonight, rejecting him for the memory of Payton.

Marek growled, coming to a stop at the foot of the stairs. “Payton.” Dropping to sit near the bottom of the steps, Marek scrubbed his face and pushed his hands through his damp, freshly washed hair. “Why did you have to pop into my head right then, babe?” Marek burned with the desire to fuck Colin, no matter that he had only known him as an adult for a few days. Rubbing against Colin's cock on that beach, and feeling the tight star of the guy's asshole against the tip of his fingers… Marek's prick twitched against his boxer briefs as he relived those few moments in Colin's arms.

He wanted Colin, period. He was under no illusions that he could ever have Payton back. Marek didn't think of Colin as a substitute for Payton either. In that moment, though, frightened by his desperation, Marek had panicked, temporarily believing Payton came to him as some kind of warning against getting in any deeper with Colin.

Marek invited disaster upon himself by becoming tangled in a complicated web of omission with Colin, and maybe it was best to retreat to the private person he was and let Colin and his weird dreams fly away when his plane took him back home to Austin in five days.

He got to his feet, ready to try to get some sleep. Then his front door opened. There stood Colin, duffel in hand, looking like a drowned puppy.

“What the hell?” Marek raced to Colin and pulled him inside, slamming the door behind him. “Are you fucking crazy? There's the beginnings of a goddamn hellacious storm starting to kick up out there, you fucking idiot.” His heart raced ridiculously as he envisioned Colin's small boat capsizing with one big wave. “You don't risk your safety in a speedboat.” He ripped Colin's bag out of his hand and threw it on the floor, then tore his lightweight jacket down his arms, leaving that wet mess in a puddle too. “I could fucking strangle you, you stupid jerk.” Anger shook Marek, but he rubbed Colin's arms from top to bottom, feeling the chill under his skin. “Jesus, man. Didn't you learn anything about the power of the ocean from Beatrice's loss?”

A big grin took over Colin's lips. “You were listening.”

Marek glared at Colin, not amused. “Of course I was listening.” He let go and spun away but came right back with a hard stare and a tight-lipped frown. “I find it damn hard to see anything but you when you're within twenty feet of me. I'm pretty damn sure you already know that.”

Colin stepped in even closer, invading Marek's airspace. He looked right in Marek's eyes, without blinking. “Except when you think of Payton, and then you run away.”

Clenching his jaw, Marek stiffened, working not