More by Sloan Parker (best ebook reader for chromebook .txt) 📕

“At the club. I— ”

“Stay right there. We're on our way.”

“Matthew can't— ”

“He's with me. They'll let him in. Don't move.” Richard hung up.

I flipped the cell phone closed and clenched it in my fist. If I so much as moved to set it down, I might be gone when they got there.

Richard looked ill. If I hadn't seen him a short while earlier, I'd have thought he spent the last three days with a bad case of the flu. His dark skin had never been so pale. His eyes were dull and packed with a new expression. Fear? Pain? Disappointment?

Matthew didn't look much better. He chewed on his bottom lip and held his hands in front of him, the thumb of one hand rubbing the fingers of the other.

I had done that to them. I turned back toward the bar.

Richard sat next to me, and Matthew moved closer.

“What did you do?” Richard asked.

I swallowed hard. “He said he'd give me— he said he'd hit me.”

Richard's fingers dug into the edge of the bar. He stared at the line of liquor bottles in front of the large mirror. “What did you do?”

“I didn't fuck him. I wanted to. God, I almost did. I made it all the way up the stairs and in a room.”

Matthew sucked in a quick, ragged breath.

“I didn't touch him or let him touch me. I didn't kiss him. I wanted him to hit me, but I couldn't even let him do that. Once the door closed, I knew I didn't want anything from him.”

“Why?” Matthew asked.

“I couldn't. I've made promises to you. And it's more than that— ”

“No.” He stepped closer. The firm muscles of his abdomen brushed my arm. I ached to feel more of him. “Why did you want him? And not us? Why did you come here?” His body trembled and swayed. His eyes didn't focus on anything. I wanted to reach out to him, steady him, but I couldn't.

“Oh. I— ”

Before I could say more, Richard spoke. “What are you afraid of? Don't think. Answer.”

“Driving you away. Not being able to stop you from leaving me when I'm not what you want.” I clenched my hands into fists, the phone still clutched inside. “I'm messed up when it comes to emotional stuff. When my dad called, I wanted to run— but I didn't know how to leave you.”

Richard let go of the bar and swung around. He caught sight of Matthew. The big man's eyebrows drew in, and concern softened the fear and anger visible on his face. He grabbed Matthew and pulled him close. The smaller man leaned his hip against a thick thigh. His shaking body stilled.

“You need to talk to us,” Richard said.

“I talk. I talk to you two more than I've ever talked to anyone. I've given up the way I live to be with you.”

“I'm glad you're more open with us than you've ever been, but that's sad, pathetic.”

I threw the phone on the bar. “I've given more to you than I have to anyone. What else can I do?”

“You've come far. You've done things you swore you never would. Sleeping with us again after the first night. Moving in with us. Throwing the rubbers in the trash. They were a lot of huge steps for you.”

All I could do was nod. Huge steps. Gigantic steps. Walk-on-the-moon-sized steps.

“Matthew and I have been communicating. You've heard us. You've listened. But you haven't talked. Not about anything personal. Not about your dad. Not about why you won't tell anyone where you live.”

My words were barely a whisper. I hoped like hell they could hear me over the music and crowd in the bar because repeating it didn't seem an option. “I want to talk to you.”

Richard put his arm around me and hauled me against him. “Let's go home. Get in our own bed. You can talk there, just the three of us.”

Matthew pressed his lips to my ear. “Please, Luke. Come home.”

I met his dark eyes and nodded. Then I did what I'd needed to do since they'd arrived. I took Matthew's face in my hands and kissed him.

“Take me home.”

Chapter Twenty-nine

Matthew held my hand as he led me up the stairs to our bedroom. No one had spoken a word on the ride home, and the silence loomed like a thick fog I couldn't see through. They were going to expect me to fill the quiet, to tell them about my past, to tell them about the day I lost the two most important men in my life before them.

Richard undressed me and then himself while Matthew shed his own clothes. Matthew took my hand in his again and brought me to the bed. The cool sheets triggered a shiver. The blood went cold in my hands and feet.

For once, I sat between them and let them touch me, hold me. My body warmed, but I still shook. Nothing in my life had prepared me for giving more than my body to someone.

When Richard spoke, his voice was stern. “Talk. The truth— all of it. Nothing you say is wrong. Nothing you want to tell us about is wrong. Just be honest.”

“I'm always fighting with myself. I work hard to push away who I am— to never let anyone see me, know me.” I took a deep breath. “You two are who you are. You don't deceive. You're always truthful.” I turned to Matthew. “How do you love so easily?”

His eyes widened. “I don't want to live without it. I don't want to be alone. I want to really know someone. Let him know me. Feel the connection of intimacy... of love. I've ached without it.”

Once again, his openness, his ability to let his love flow out of him, amazed me.

I faced Richard. “How did you know this would work? At first you didn't seem to want to be with someone a second time. Then we're on a date, moving in, committing. I