Page 85 of A Cold Hard Truth

Chapter Twenty-Four

Sebastian’s No Good Day

Sebastian came.

His release splattered against the wall of the shower and he braced himself beneath the showerhead, his legs trembling as he milked the rest of his orgasm out. He finished washing himself and turned off the shower, resting his head against the wet tile while he waited for his breathing to slow down.

He liked Remington’s shower. It was less pretentious than his own.

He liked Remington’s apartment.

He liked Remington.

Remington, who had spanked him the night before and then let him get his first taste of cock. Remington, who was somehow so sure and so uncertain all at the same time. But Sebastian couldn’t fault him for that, because there was plenty he was uncertain about, too. The one thing he wasn’t unsure of, though, was Remington himself.

Feeling steadier, he climbed out of the shower and pulled the towel Remington had set out for him off the bar, wrapping it around his waist. Remington had left for work shortly after his alarm went off, leaving Sebastian alone in his apartment and asleep in his bed. He’d given Sebastian leniency on the daily schedule, and Sebastian intended to take advantage of it. He wanted to explore, to snoop, but instead he’d fallen back asleep with the taste of Remington’s mouth on his lips.

He woke up an hour later when his own alarm went off, stretching and appreciating the comforting smell of Remington’s bed. After their encounter in the spare room the night before, they’d made their way back to Remington’s room, a rough tangle of limbs and tongues. Together, they’d fallen into Remington’s bed, exploring each other’s bodies in the dark. There hadn’t been more sex, and there hadn’t been more talking. Just shy noises and courageous fingers until sleep had taken them both sometime after midnight.

The morning after, with Remington’s towel wrapped around his waist, Sebastian made sure his feet were dry, and he padded back down the hallway to the empty bedroom. Braced against the door, he closed his eyes and remembered what the wood felt like against his knees as he swallowed another man—Remington—into his throat. He was sure he wasn’t good at sucking dick, but thankfully Remington had nothing to compare to, and that thought stopped him in his tracks.

What was he doing?

Sebastian opened his eyes and rested his head against the door frame. He was taking advantage, and he had no right. He was a barely divorced disaster, hardly left of straight, and potentially a depressed alcoholic. Sebastian didn’t have anything going for him besides a name he hated and a bank account that would never run dry, no matter how hard he tried.

From the other end of the apartment, he heard his phone vibrate. It was too early for anyone to be calling him, and yet the vibration persisted. Sebastian forced himself to Remington’s bedroom, where he sat on the edge of the bed and swiped his phone off the nightstand. The battery was near dead, but not near enough, apparently. Because his brother’s face flashed across his screen before going dark.

He’d missed the call.

Sorry, Rhys.

The phone vibrated again. Rhys was calling back.

“It’s early,” Sebastian answered the phone.

“I need you to come home,” Rhys said.

“What?” He looked around Remington’s bedroom.

“I need you,” Rhys paused for effect, “to come home. Where are you?”

“At a friend’s.”

“A friend.”

“What do you want, Rhys?” Sebastian sighed, not moving from his perch on the bed.

“I’ve said it twice,” his brother snapped. “I’m at your house and you are not. I need you to come home.”

“Why are you in Myers Bluff?”

“Come home, Sebastian.”

Rhys ended the call, and Sebastian dropped his phone onto the bed, not quite willing to get up and get dressed, but understanding he needed to. Delaying the inevitable for another breath, he called Remington, who answered on the second ring.

“Hey.” Remington’s voice was a soft rumble in his ear, and Sebastian’s entire body relaxed at the sound of it.

“Hi.”