Not His Kiss to Take (27 page)

“
No. Just suffering a little payback.”

“
Did you…?”

“
Not me.”

Not only had the color fled from Jamie’s face but his lips as well; now they were nothing more than a pale, tight slash cutting across his face. “Then who?”

“
Someone who must remain unnamed.”

Jamie’s ice-cold glare felt solid, like a touch. “Deciding lots of things for me, aren’t you?”

“
No, Jamie—it’s just, I promised. Not to tell. So if the cops ever asked…you wouldn’t have to lie. Because you wouldn’t know.”

Cold fury morphed Jamie’s lovely face into something dark and ugly. Frightening, even. Shocked, Evan stepped back almost involuntarily. Jamie’s eyes flashed with a dangerous blue flame. With a start, Evan realized his timing couldn’t have been worse. First the abrupt good-bye and then…
this
.

Jamie’d never really dealt with the assault. He’d hidden from it, buried it so deep that like an old, sweating explosive, one tiny jostle and he’d go off. Foolishly, Evan had set him up for disaster, made his hothead face down a cold, hard truth without warning.

Evan shouldn’t have sprung it on Jamie like that. God, what had he been thinking? They should have talked first. Mortification hit Evan hard.

Why hadn’t learned a damn thing these past two years of retrospection? He’d gone and put his own guilty feelings before Jamie’s wellbeing, like he always did.

Too late to stop the train wreck. Jamie glanced down at the image again. An angry tear leaked out the corner of one eye. His hand trembled where it lay on the counter beside the tablet.

Oh God. Evan had done more than harm this time. “Jamie—”

In the space of one breath, one horrifying heartbeat, Jamie snapped. “Fuck you!” he screamed. “Fuck you very much!”

His trembling hand formed a fist and swept across the counter, his full strength behind it. The salad plates, knife, and iPad went flying, and Evan leapt back as they crashed onto the stone-tiled floor, shattered shards of glass scattering in every direction. Bits of plastic skittered and slid under the fridge, fast as shrapnel. The knife, twirling crazily, spun and spun until it finally embedded itself in the toe kick of the counter across the room. For the first time since they’d met, Evan knew he wasn’t in control of the situation.

“
Why did you have to show me that?” Jamie yelled. “If you were tired of me, you could’ve just said so, and I wouldn’t have bothered you anymore.” Shaking with anger, Jamie clenched both his fists but kept his vibrating arms locked to his sides. “You fucking sadistic bastard! Wasn’t it enough for you that you fucked with my head until I didn’t even know who I was anymore? That you made me want you? Want your hands on me? That I begged for permission to suck your cock? Wasn’t that enough thrill for you? Sorry if I wasn’t gay enough for you.”

“
N-no, no… That’s not what I felt at all… Not what I meant…” Evan’s closed-up throat would hardly work. Some of those remarks felt uncomfortably close to the truth.

“
Guess you got bored, huh? Don’t really blame you, Ev. I know I’m just a dumb kid.”

“
Jamie you’re not—”

“
And I guess I’m not kinky enough either. Hell, I’m not even gay. But you know what? I’m not stupid enough to say I didn’t know better.”

Oh fuck.

“
I knew you were a pervert from the get-go. Not like you tried to hide it or anything. Got no one to blame but myself. It’s always my fault anyway.” Jamie stepped around the edge of the counter, and Evan moved back, holding his hands out defensively. “Actually,” Jamie snarled, “How ’bout I give you half the blame?”

No, it’s
all
mine…

“
But since you helped me and looked after me when I was hurt, how ’bout we call us square? You got your kicks, and I got no hospital bill. But I gotta ask. Was I worth the effort? Did I amuse you good enough? Or were you laughing about how pathetic I am?”

“
For God’s sake, Jamie, I never once, ever, thought you were pathetic, and I’d never laugh—”

“
Yeah, sure. But don’t worry about it, I’ll get the hell out of your lonely, miserable, fucked-up life, and you won’t have to tell me a fucking thing ever again.”

Stomping over the bits of broken glass, Jamie pushed past him and sprinted for the entry door.

Jumping over the broken plates, Evan followed.
What the hell have I done? I have to fix this—fuck, I’m so stupid.
“Jamie! Stop—please!” Jamie was already shoving his bloody feet into his torn Nikes when Evan caught up to him at the door. “I’m so sorry. I never thought about what I was doing. I shouldn’t have shown you that picture like that. Please, don’t go.”

“
Oh fuck you, Evan. You think about everything. You don’t have to lie to me—see? I’m already going. I’ve had lots of experience knowing when I’m not wanted.”

But you are wanted—more than anything!
“Don’t go—please, Jamie. Stay! Don’t leave mad…”
How the hell can I convince him, now?
“Please, let’s talk it over. This is not what I meant at all!”

After flinging open the closet door until it almost put a hole in the wall, Jamie grabbed his hoodie and his phone and keys from the table and roughly shoved them in his pockets. When he reached for the doorknob, Evan slapped his hand on the door above. “Please don’t leave like this. Please, just—let’s talk. I’m so sorry—”

With his elbow, Jamie knocked his arm out of the way. “Move,” he snapped and yanked open the door. With one last icy glare, he turned and said, “I trusted you.” And then he was gone.

Chapter
Fourteen

Considering all the years of school behind him, Evan hated that he’d been so remarkably stupid.
How could you let him go without a fight?

Because I had to.

Sometimes doing the right thing sucked, to borrow a word from Jamie’s book of life.
How come it hurts so much, then? How come you never got his phone number, you idiot?
Well, that Evan knew.
Because you knew you’d call it. Knew you’d weaken.
The first couple of days without Jamie’s presence had been a study in misery. Guilty conscience. Silent kitchen. Quiet living room. Empty bed.

Empty everything. After those days of misery, the ache of loss had grown, not abated. After Jamie, the loneliness became unbearable. Three weeks of unbearable.

How could you let yourself fall in love with him?

Wasn’t hard, actually. Kinky perversions, fourteen-year age difference, OCD, questionable ethics and all, Jamie accepted him as he was.

Quit staring at my ass, Dr. Kinkybones… You don’t actually need to iron jeans, Ev; makes you look like an idiot anyway… After you finish telling me the name of every little bone in my hand, Doc, why don’tcha wrap them bones around your dick and you can name all those squeezing muscles that make you come so hard…

Couldn’t say that about anyone else, and he had proof to back him up. Most of his friends had left him behind when he could no longer keep up. Ambition fostered a certain ruthlessness.

And I’d been just like them. Ruthless.

Selfish.

Jamie probably hates me for what I did.

Despite the age difference, he and Jamie had managed to find a common ground and could talk about anything. Okay, that was a stretch; they could
argue
about anything. The two of them sharpening their mental knifes on each other was…
fun
. Jamie would be a formidable opponent in a few years. Or tomorrow. They were compatible while sharing space, did chores side by side with ease. Everything was easy, provided they both had a little bit of their own space.

And the penthouse had more than enough room for two…

Evan had always believed the way you slept with someone revealed a lot about your compatibility outside of bed. Now he was sure of it. With him and Jamie, they turned toward each other in sleep, always waking twined together in the middle of the bed. Proof you couldn’t deceive yourself in sleep, for the body sought out what it wanted most when the conscious mind wasn’t running the show.

Didn’t it mean something that they always found each other in the night?

When they were awake, Evan found Jamie endlessly, frequently, and annoyingly entertaining.
You outwitted me just by talking me into learning this stupid game…

Get out of the way, Evan, you big lug; quit trying to distract me with that homo come-hither look. Won’t work. No, I mean it…oh, come on, don’t undo that zipper…

It’s your turn to clear the table, and don’t get to thinking you’re gonna disinfect it with that smelly shit after you’re done either. You’re just gonna make a bunch of super-germs—look, they’re sewing tights and capes already…

And the sex. Evan shuddered as a wave of want steamrollered over him, as he recalled Jamie’s hands all over him, and his on Jamie. Those tentative first touches… Evan sighed in remembrance. Those had been the ones that had stolen his heart.

Like this…?

Yeah, like that…

And he’d gone and thrown it away. All for the price of a kiss.

Only one thing to do, then. Beg. No—grovel. Stalk. Evan smiled wryly. That was the word—stalk.

First, he’d find Jamie.
Then
he’d stalk him.

Pay him the apology long overdue.

Starting tonight. It had to be tonight. He couldn’t take it anymore. All this unfulfilled yearning was giving him another headache.

Chapter
Fifteen

Neckties were stupid. Why did men still wear them? Jamie sure as hell didn’t know the answer to that one, but after fifteen minutes spent strangling himself while trying to knot the damn thing, he finally perfected the hang-yourself-on-purpose technique. He stepped back from the mirror.
Nice.
Almost looked like a stranger staring back at him in that spiffy suit.

Off the rack, seventy-percent off, and a steely gray that the salesman said agreed with his
delicate
coloring but was still well-made. Not cheap-looking. One of the benefits of being…
small
. Okay, runty. All the bigger sizes were long gone, sold to larger men at full price—suckers. He’d had his pick of the remaining designer stock. Or rather, Aunt Angelina had her pick. Probably just as well.

The scratchy white shirt screamed
boring
. The blue-and-pewter—Angie’s fancy word for gray—tie-of-death did kinda match his eyes, so that made up for the starched shirt. Angie said every man needed a good interview suit, and this was to be his. Then she said if Jamie was gonna chase after some rich doctor, a
male
doctor, for Christ’s sake, then the suit could do double duty as a dick magnet, and thank God Jamie was legal ’cause he was gonna attract lots of admirers.

Embarrassing him in front of the blatantly eavesdropping clerk, she’d smacked him on the head while babbling on about him being unfairly gorgeous, which was just ridiculous, because, obviously, he wasn’t. Then she hugged him. And then complained bitterly over the fact that
she
never got rescued by hot alpha-male doctors who put out, and fuck, why did Jamie have to switch teams and steal the only single one out there?

The bus ride to Sacramento had taken a fucking eternity, and one made worse having to suck in diesel fumes the whole way. Plus he’d had to sit behind the bus driver because he’d been too…
anxious
…to sit in the back near the big, smelly biker dude who’d lost his bike, and, gauging by his surly expression, resented the whole wide world for it. But he was over that fear now. Mostly.