The Backup Boyfriend (The Boyfriend Chronicles) (9 page)

Alec almost laughed at the bitter irony until he recognized the name. “Memphis Haines the stunt guy?”

“He wasn’t famous back then. But that’s not the point I’m trying to make.”

Alec held his ex’s gaze, struggling to control the resentment that had been festering for over two months. “What
is
your reason for being here?”

“To say that I should have given you a little warning. But we’d grown too comfortable, I think. I knew you’d talk me out of leaving.” The hint of a smile lacked any real humor. “The path of least resistance and all,” he said. “But tonight I—”

Something flashed in Tyler’s eyes just before he shifted his gaze to one of the large bay windows. Alec remained silent and studied Tyler’s profile as the source of that brief emotion finally connected, an emotion Alec had never seen on Tyler’s face before.

Jealousy.

Tyler was
jealous
.

Alec swept a hand down his face, hoping to hide his surprise. Christ, Dylan should be here to witness the sight. And Alec wasn’t above admitting a small part of him—the side permanently stuck in adolescence, no doubt—took some satisfaction from the knowledge. Since the split, Alec had experienced a whole host of emotions, from shock to disbelief to anger.

But the self-satisfied, junior high schooler thoughts were definitely new.

The sound of someone clearing his throat interrupted the moment. Alec looked over to where Dylan stood in the doorway, studying them both with a guarded expression.

Finally, Dylan’s gaze settled on Alec. “You okay?”

Shit. He couldn’t answer that question until
after
this conversation with Tyler.

“Yeah.” Alec’s gaze flicked back to Tyler. “We were just setting a few things straight.”

Dylan hesitated before giving a sharp nod. “I’ll let you two get back to it then.” With one more questioning look in Alec’s direction, he turned and headed back toward the party.

Tyler watched Dylan go. “He’s a little…”

Smart-mouthed? Insane? Too beautiful for words? No sense in adding the excellent-kisser label. Alec pushed the memory of the moment from his mind.

“Rough around the edges,” Tyler finished.

Alec stared at the doorway, remembering the feel of Dylan’s calluses against his skin. Just the thought sent goose bumps popping up along his spine. Why the sudden fixation with rough hands?

“I have to admit the man is definitely good looking.” Tyler’s gaze steadily met Alec’s. “But he doesn’t fit your usual MO.”

You mean my attraction to men who are actually gay
?

This time the bitter laugh escaped. No need to share the tidbit about Dylan’s orientation with Tyler just yet.

“Is this the new you?” Tyler leaned against the far counter. “A man into sex swings and no-strings-attached fucking?”

Anger flared higher.

You made your choice. And it wasn’t me.

“That’s none of your business anymore,” Alec said.

“You’re right. But I still don’t think he’s what you want.”

After all those months of Alec attending every gay marriage demonstration he could, Tyler had
known
what Alec wanted. He’d thought the fight worthy of his dedication, every moment of his day taken up by either the clinic or the next demonstration.

When Noah called to discuss the clinic—which he did, frequently—Alec made a point of being available. When his mother informed him of another demonstration, Alec had stepped up and participated.

He’d believed the time a wise investment in the future.
Their
future.

“What should I want?” Alec said.

“What you’ve always wanted,” Tyler replied. “A committed relationship.”

“Commitment didn’t work out so well for me.”

“So you’ve decided to change your priorities now?”

“Maybe,” Alec said, struggling to maintain a cool tone. “Maybe not.”

Tyler held his gaze, and Alec read a whole host of emotions contained in the single crease in Tyler’s forehead. Anger. Genuine puzzlement. Even a hint of concern.

“I think you’re making a big mistake,” Tyler said.

This seemed particularly damning coming from a man who didn’t know Dylan’s true orientation.

“If so,” Alec said evenly, “it’s my mistake to make.”

Alec pushed up from the counter and left to go in search of more alcohol…and Dylan.

Crap, this wasn’t going at all like he’d planned.

Dylan gripped the same whiskey he’d been nursing since the kiss that had kicked him in the ass. He longed to slug the rest back, along with about twenty more. But someone had to remain in control because Alec looked totally buzzed. Correction, Alec seemed a stone’s throw away from
sloppy
.

Served Dylan right for being so spiteful. If he hadn’t felt the need to put Tyler in his place, Dylan wouldn’t have deepened the kiss and—

Jesus, who was he trying to convince here?

Dylan knew his time on the streets had honed his abilities as a master bullshitter, but bullshitting himself was another thing.

Since Alec had bitten Dylan’s lip, Dylan had been fighting to recover from the nip that had taken the moment from surprisingly hot to
not nearly enough
. And just when Dylan had decided he was okay with how the whole thing went down—cuz, really, what choice did he have?—and was ready to act as if everything was normal, Alec had headed straight for the kitchen.

And then Tyler had followed Alec.

For a second Dylan hadn’t known what to feel, the thoughts bumping around as if the gears in his brain had been stripped. A part of him had been happy for Alec, glad his friend might be winning back the man he’d lost. But another part of him had been friggin’ annoyed.

He pushed the feelings away. Time for a reality check.

There were friends, like Noah, and now Alec. And then there was sex, provided by
women
, a mutually satisfying exchange of the baser needs in life. Dylan liked sex. Lots of it. And he carefully selected companions who wanted the same and nothing more.

Dylan didn’t know a thing about dealing with exes because he’d happily managed to avoid anything remotely resembling a relationship. A status he had every intention of maintaining, thankyouverymuch. Five years later and Noah still hadn’t recovered from losing Rick. Alec looked miserable and uncomfortable around Tyler.

Who needed that kind of grief?

And while Dylan had been thrown off kilter by the scene in the kitchen, never mind the lingering effects of the kiss, it appeared his newfound friend was no better off. After reentering the living room, Alec had headed straight for the bar and tossed back a shot of tequila.

Followed by three more.

With every drink Alec had gotten a little looser, until his demeanor was way too relaxed. So Dylan had corralled him in a corner, successfully keeping the guy away from most of the guests. Alec was leaning against Dylan pretty heavily now, and Noah was currently shooting Dylan heated questions with his eyes—as if he blamed the current fucked-up state of affairs on Dylan.

“See?” Beaming, the doctor threw his arm around Dylan’s neck, pulling him closer. “I can’t keep my eyes off of you. How am I doing?”

Try as he might, Dylan couldn’t pry his gaze from Alec’s lips. Dylan wasn’t going to waste time lying to himself anymore. The man had a fucking beautiful mouth, especially when it looked like it had at the end of their kiss, roughed up, red, and spit slicked…

Dylan briefly pressed his lids closed. “You’re doing great,” he murmured.

Although Alec felt a little too close for comfort.

And while he’d hoped the kiss would feel dry and papery—and less than inspiring—he hadn’t seriously contemplated his world reversing course on its axis.

Arm around Dylan’s neck, Alec snuggled his head into the crook of Dylan’s neck and let out a sigh. Dylan was considering what to do about the current predicament when Alec’s free hand cupped Dylan’s ass, sending sparks dancing across his skin.

Man, he’d created a monster.

“Ya know,” Alec said, his words slightly slurred as Dylan discreetly pulled Alec’s hand from his butt, “this party turned out a whole lot better than I’d expected.”

“I should get you home,” Dylan said.

“Excellent idea.”

Alec’s smoldering look made Dylan nervous.

Before Dylan could decide what to do next, Alec clutched the front of Dylan’s shirt, pulling him in the direction of the foyer.

Leaving. Yep, leaving would definitely be good.

Hoping to make an exit with as little attention as possible, Dylan simply trailed behind. The crowd in the living room had grown, yet Alec managed to thread his way through without stepping on toes or tripping over shoes. When they exited the living room, Dylan spied Tyler and his boyfriend in the foyer.

Crap.

With Alec in his current condition, passing those two would mean trouble for sure. A few drinks and the normally mild-mannered Dr. Alec Johnson became very outspoken. And kinda handsy. Dylan pulled Alec’s palm from his chest and linked their fingers together, hoping to keep them from wandering to more inappropriate areas.

While Dylan eyed the space between the front door and Tyler, sizing up the distance and trying to decide how best to escape, Noah arrived from the kitchen, stopping at Tyler’s side.

Fuck.

Noah shot Dylan another what-the-hell? look, and Dylan veered sharply left, changing course to lead Alec down the deserted hallway and into Noah’s office. At least here Dylan could keep Alec from groping him in public. They could wait out Tyler’s departure, and Dylan could slip Alec out the exit without having to pass by Noah.

“Let’s wait for the crowd at the doorway to clear before we leave,” Dylan said.

“Perfect.”

Alec closed the door. Before Dylan could register the intent in his eyes, Alec gripped Dylan’s jacket and stepped backward until his shoulder blades hit the wall, pulling Dylan close.

“I’m good with that,” Alec said.

“Come on, man.” Dylan gripped Alec’s wrist and pried it from his chest, totally ignoring how smooth the man’s hands were. “You’ve had too much to drink, and you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Bullshit,” Alec muttered, leaning in to kiss Dylan.

Dylan briefly froze. But, hell, if they started that up again, no telling where they’d wind up. Possibly on that futon along the far wall. Dylan turned his head to avoid the kiss, but Alec kept going, his mouth landing on Dylan’s neck instead.

Hot breath fanned across Dylan’s skin. Lips nibbled at his now skyrocketing pulse. And Dylan’s dick gave an interested twitch.

Fuck a duck.

He needed to remind himself that this was his
friend
, a friend who was acting out of frustration after watching his ex all evening. Or maybe Alec was still reeling from the scene in the kitchen with Tyler. Had they made out? Had Alec put his hands on Tyler’s ass too?

Dylan chose not to dwell on the possibility, and right now Alec didn’t seem to be thinking too much about Tyler. Lips whispering across Dylan’s throat, Alec groaned out Dylan’s name and placed a hand on his abdomen, just above the waistband.

Beads of sweat broke out along the back of Dylan’s neck. Blood rushed through Dylan’s veins, confused as to whether to supply his conflicted brain, his limbs for escape, or more urgently
needy
areas. Dylan’s dick now demanded more than its fair share.

No sense in denying the truth. While he’d been hitting first base with Alec, not only had Dylan not been grossed out or disgusted, not only had the act turned him on, the moment had planted ideas in Dylan’s mind. Ideas about Alec and…uh…more than just kisses.

Dylan slammed his lids closed.

Before his muddled brain could process Alec’s next move, Alec’s hand landed on Dylan’s zipper and flicked it open. A searing jolt shot through Dylan’s veins, and his eyelids popped open.

Jesus, had he said something about those ideas
out loud
?

“No touching the junk,” he scraped out as he reluctantly pulled the hand away. “Come on, Alec. Get your shit together, man.”

Get your shit together, Booth
.

Fingers gripping Alec’s wrist, Dylan tried to prevent further crotch groping. He pressed his other palm against Alec’s chest to keep the man from plastering their torsos together, trying not to enjoy the hard plane of lean muscle.

Distance. That’s all he needed, just a little distance.

He was so busy congratulating himself on his success he forgot about the rigid hard-on confined beneath his briefs, bulging along the open zipper of his pants. Alec abandoned his attempts at a kiss and dropped to his knees to press his open mouth to Dylan’s cock.

Dylan sucked in a strangled breath.

Paralyzed by the surge of pleasure, he stared down at the arousing sight, the damp heat of Alec’s breath seeping through the briefs. Pushing Alec away would be a hell of a lot easier if Dylan wasn’t so turned on. Alec nibbled his way from the base of Dylan’s erection to the tip and gently scraped his teeth across the sensitive head.

Dylan gripped Alec’s shoulder, shaking with the need to force him back and thrust closer, all at the same time. “Alec,” he said hoarsely.

Ignoring the admittedly questionable protest, in one swift motion, Alec pulled out Dylan’s dick and swallowed him whole.

And that was the end of life as Dylan knew it.

Dylan’s eyes rolled back, and somewhere close by a meteor must have crash-landed cuz the floor beneath them wobbled. Alec bobbed his head up and down, spit slicking the way, and what was supposed to be an attempt at another objection came out of Dylan sounding faded and weak.

“Fuck.”

One hand wrapped around the base of Dylan’s cock, Alec pulled off to lick from base to tip again. “We’ll get to the fucking, I promise.”

The words briefly brought Dylan back to his senses, but not enough that he had the strength to end the pleasurable sensations. Hopefully he was capable of speech. And he had to try and get Alec to see reason. Dylan couldn’t stand the thought of his friend hating him tomorrow.

“Alec, listen man,” he said, “this isn’t what you want.”