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Chapter Twenty-Nine

Austen

I sip my beer—the same one I’ve been nursing all night—unable to stop grinning. I can’t remember the last time I laughed like this, the last time I had fun like this.

“Come on, just try one,” Cam says, shoving a sashimi slice of tuna at me. I glance down at the bright pink coloring, my stomach already protesting. Up until tonight, my idea of sushi was a California roll, or a smoked salmon and cream cheese roll, both of which have cooked fish in them. I’ve never eaten raw fish before. Just the thought of the cold, wet, slimy texture—gross.

I look up at him, noting his smirk.

I set my beer down and sigh, knowing that smirk means I’m going to give in whether I want to or not. And maybe there is a part of me that wants to impress him. That wants to show him I’ve changed and I’m not the same guy he left back in Virginia all those years ago. That I want to prove to myself, I’m not the same man…

“Just one,” I say, trying to give my best poker face. “But if I get sick—”

Cameron rolls his eyes, his tongue darting out to lick his lips as he watches me. I stab the piece of fish with my chopsticks and dredge it in enough soy sauce that I hope it blankets the taste. I let out a breath and chuck the fish into my mouth as fast as I can, and chew.

My eyes widen as I realize it’s… not bad.

The texture is almost buttery and it’s soft, and not at all unpleasant. I swallow, licking my lips as Cam smirks back at me. He pushes me another piece and I shake my head, grabbing it wordlessly.

“Just one, huh?” he says victoriously.

“You are a terrible influence,” I tell him. The second piece goes down easier as he casts me a wicked grin.

He drains the rest of his drink. “Uh huh. Don’t I know it.”

I wash down the salty taste of the soy sauce with the rest of my beer just as our waitress brings our check.

One check.

I reach for it, but Cam shoves my hand out of the way.

“I got this,” he says, his voice stern, but not overbearing. Yet, still, every muscle in my body stiffens from the tone. Including the annoying one between my fucking legs.

I cross my legs, knowing he can’t see me do so, quelling the sudden hardness.

“Cam—”

He waves me off as he slips his credit card on the plastic, over top of the bill, and hands it to the waitress.

“No buts, Austen,” he says, draining the last of his drink. I want to argue with him, want to protest. Gifts are my love language , at least that’s what Alex tells me. He says it’s an inherited trait.

All the Brewers like to spoil the people they love. Sometimes in place of actual affection—okay, a lot of the time.

But there’s also a part of me that feels all warm and tingly from Cam’s gesture, and I can’t help the blush that creeps into my cheeks.

It’s just dinner, I know that. A dinner between friends . But there’s a part of me that wonders if this is what it would be like to be his.

I never got to know many of Cam’s boyfriends, mostly because they didn’t stick around long enough for me to get to know, but even if they had, I would’ve been critical of them.

I wouldn’t have liked any of them, because none of them were ever good enough for him, in my opinion.

You aren’t either, my vicious brain touts, and suddenly the smile fades.

I nod. “Okay.” I swallow, noticing his gaze has shifted to my mouth.

For the slightest moment it stays fixed there, until the waitress comes back, and he blinks, as if he’s just remembered where he is.

“Thanks,” he says as he slips his card back into his wallet. I quickly pull out a couple twenties and pass it to the server while he isn’t looking, giving her a soft smile.

“Thank you,” I say as Cam catches me, shaking his head.

“Unbelievable.” But the way he says it isn’t pissy or angry. It’s sweet. Humored even.

I shrug as we get up from the table. He comes to stand by my side, raising a brow at me.

“You just can’t let go of that control, can you?” he asks, and suddenly I’m very aware of how warm it is in here and how fast my heart is beating.

Not to mention the twitch of my cock in my chinos. Fucking hell.

I chew on my lower lip, so hard I think I draw blood.

I want to protest because his words remind me of someone else's. But I don’t want to think about Savannah right now.

Right now, I just want to enjoy this serendipitous moment in time, where everything is perfect.

Where we are perfect.

Just two friends having a good time.

Friends. The word doesn’t feel right, but it’s what we are. Right?

He’s close enough I can smell the sweet scent of Macallan on his breath. Mixed with his natural scent, his cologne…

My cock twitches and I shift my weight.

“Guess not,” I say, my voice coming out slightly raspy.

Cam’s steely gaze flits from my mouth to my eyes as he nods towards the exit.

“After you,” he says with a grin.

My cheeks flush again as I purse my lips. “Exit. Right.”

Internally, I chastise myself because I sound like a bumbling idiot, and I can’t even blame it on the alcohol.

I had one fucking beer, that’s not even enough to get me buzzed.

I flash him a grin as I push some hair behind my ear and turn around, heading for the exit. I can feel his eyes on me, on my back. My ass. But I don’t say anything. Let him look, if he wants.

The thought makes me warm all over, and the chill of the New York air hits me like a balm as I open the door for him.

“After you.” I smile. Cam chuckles, shaking his head. The width of the doorway isn’t very big, and with both of us here, it’s a little tight. But I swear as he exits, he leans into my side of the door a little bit. Enough to brush against me and make my stupid cock twitch.

I suck in a breath, praying he didn’t notice the situation brewing in my fucking pants. The last thing I want is to scare him and make him think I’m just trying to get in his pants. Again.

The thought lands hard in my gut.

Do I want to get in his pants?

Yes.

In all the years I’ve been married, I’ve never looked at another person. Man or woman.

I’ve denied all the flirtations and propositions. I’ve been a fucking saint.

But Cameron makes me want more. He makes me realize how fucking starving I am, and I don’t mean for food.

His words replay in my brain as I watch him saunter out into the street. You just can’t let go of the control, can you?

He wouldn’t say such a thing if he knew how hard it was to keep my control in check. Because the last time I let go, I fucked up, and I don’t want to lose him again.

I come up beside him, pulling out my phone. He says nothing, just looks over my shoulder as I queue up Uber and wait as the loading sign spins. And spins. And spins. Fuck, I’m going to have to restart the app…

“You know, I live a few blocks from here,” he says, his voice slightly dark, tinged with drink. I glance at him for a moment.

I can’t deny the words incite desire in me, but I know he’s not asking me to go home with him.

That would be crazy, right?

One hundred percent.

“Yeah?” I ask, refreshing the app.

Cam shifts his weight. “We can put on a movie. Order some pizza like we used to.”

A movie. I look at my phone, realizing it’s nearing midnight.

I should head back to my hotel, especially because I have a long day tomorrow, but I don’t want this night to end.

“We just ate,” I say, sliding my phone into my pocket. Cam smiles a perfect, Hollywood smile.

“Gotta have something to blanket the raw fish,” he says with a wink.

“Lead the way, Mr. Scott,” I say with a grin of my own.

We walk the three blocks to his apartment in silence.

The building is tall, sleek, and super modern. We take the elevator to the top floor. He has to use a special keycard to get it to work. Cam leads me out, the bright lights from the hallway shining on him. He tenses for a moment, I can see it in his shoulders, but then it’s gone. He opens the door.

“Mi casa,” he says with a grin. The doorway is wider than the one at the restaurant, but I can’t help as I lean into his space, nudging him as I enter.

“Wow,” I say when I get inside, because it’s so… bright.

The living room wall is a full floor to ceiling window that spans the whole length of the room. The entire New York City skyline can be seen, lights like stars in the distance. It’s the most breathtaking view.

I feel him behind me, a warmth stoked between us from his proximity.

“It’s beautiful,” I say, and it’s the truth.

The view from my hotel isn’t even this nice. Damn well should be for the price I paid for it. But all I’ve got is a too-clear view into the hotel room across from mine. With a view like this, I’m not sure I’d ever leave my home.

“Glad you like it,” he says. I turn to the side and take in the sight of him in the space. In his home.

His dark hair hangs in his eyes, which are still a little glassy from his two rounds of Macallan. But he’s not looking at me.

Once again, his gaze dips to my mouth, and my brain, heart, and cock all align on the same page.

I think he wants to kiss me.

I think I want him to kiss me.

So why doesn’t he?

“I love it,” I say, my voice darker than I intended.

My gaze dips to his pouty lips, my cock twitching as I remember just how soft they feel against my own.

His gaze flashes back up to my eyes, and he smiles, then turns around and heads for the couch, leaving me to stand there, hot, flushed, and hard as fucking hell.

“Your pick,” he says as he turns on the television.

It takes immense control not to grab my cock, to make myself walk over and sit next to him like everything is fine.

His couch is huge. One of those wrap-arounds with an oversized glass coffee table that has no decor on it. I take a glance around, noticing there isn’t much in the way of decor. His place is simple, elegant. Clean.

Savannah would have a coronary. She has a whole storage unit of decor with boxes for each holiday, even the miniscule ones.

But I like it. It’s like a breath of fresh air.

I could sit anywhere, but I know there’s only one place I want to sit.

Next to him.

So that’s what I do. I sit next to my best friend. He hands me the remote and as I take it from his hand, my fingers brush against his.

And that’s the moment I realize this was a terrible idea.