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Chapter Thirty-Seven

Austen

I’ve never been much of a city boy, but there’s something undeniably perfect about NYC. But maybe my love of the city has more to do with who’s here, rather than what’s here.

I steal a glance at Cam as he walks beside me, his hands shoved in his jeans pockets. A smile graces my face for the hundredth time today. I can’t stop smiling, like some lovesick idiot.

Everything’s better with him. It was always better with him, I just didn’t understand why.

But I think I’m starting to.

The wind rustles my hair, making it go fucking everywhere. I run my hand through it, trying to tame it, and notice Cam’s sideways glance as we come to the middle of a bridge. We’ve managed to pack a ton of stuff in. It’s been one bucket list item after the other today. Times Square, Rockefeller Center, Madame Tussauds…

I think I spent so many years pretending I was happy that I forgot what it feels like to be happy.

But I know that I’m happier with him.

I stop, leaning against the stone arch as I take in our surroundings. It’s peaceful here, in this little shadowy alcove of the park. Quiet. I could see myself here. Strolling through the park in the daytime, sketching ideas and sipping on coffee. Maybe even working on my laptop.

I bet it’s really pretty here in the spring.

Cam stops, taking his spot beside me. We both lean over the stone rail, the lights of the city like stars; so close but so far away at the same time.

“You should come with me,” I say, breaking the silence.

“Huh?”

I turn to look at him, the street lamps providing just enough light that I can make out his surprised expression.

“I could use a second opinion. Plus, you live here, so I’m sure you know more about these areas than I do.”

It’s true, I could use a second opinion, and there’s no one’s opinion I trust more than his. He knows me better than I know myself, and if his apartment is any indication of his taste, he knows a good thing when he sees it.

I watch as his expression softens, as he chews his lip.

“Unless, of course, you're busy…” I tense, worried I’ve overstepped; anxiety coming back like a boomerang.

You’re being needy again.

I hate that even now, when I feel so good, Savannah’s damn words rise up to strike me again.

Hate that she can poison me from so far away.

“No, it’s not that—” Cam says, shifting closer to me.

My body relaxes the moment his shoulder brushes against mine. I shift a little closer to him, falling into his space with ease, like my body subconsciously craves his touch.

It’s been like this all fucking day. I keep trying to resist the urge, but I can’t help myself. I keep expecting him to push me away, tell me I’m crowding him and that he needs space.

But he doesn’t.

He doesn’t do that at all.

“Then what is it?” I ask, my gaze settling on his stormy eyes. His pinky brushes against mine, the lightest of accidental touches, but it makes me feel comforted nonetheless.

For a minute it looks like he wants to say something, but thinks better of it. He offers me a soft smile.

“Nothing,” he says. I don’t believe him, but I don’t want to push him either. “Of course I’ll come with you.”

For the hundredth time today, I smile. Just knowing he’ll be there makes me happy. It’s only a second opinion. Looking at places for my dream of making BrewTech and A War of Fire & Ice a real startup, a real, viable game.

But it’s the validation on a deeper level that he doesn’t think my dreams are stupid.

That he knows it’s important to me, and that’s enough.

If you would have told me months ago I’d be touring New York City with Cameron Scott, after all that had happened between us, I wouldn’t have believed you.

But here we are.

Here we fucking are, returning from the ashes of what we used to be, burning brighter than ever before.

I shift closer to him, pushing off the cold stone until I have him backed against the rail. I don’t miss the way his gaze darkens. I don’t think twice about settling my hand on his neck and ghosting my lips over his. His pulse races beneath my fingertips, so I do it again.

“Thank you,” I say, letting my hand trail down his chest, until it rests above his waist. I kiss him softly. Deeply.

I never want this feeling to end. Kissing him feels so fucking good. I pull away, getting a good look at the grin on his face. He’s been smiling all day too.

“You hungry?” I ask. His hand settles on my hip.

“I could eat,” he says.

“Pizza and a movie?” I ask, running my hands over his chest, feeling the smooth hardness beneath my fingers. Part of me worries I’m being too touchy. Too clingy. Too needy, but Cam doesn’t stop me. He lets out a low breath, his gaze alight with interest.

My fingers graze over his pecs and I can feel the stiffness of his nipples beneath his shirt, which makes my cock twitch. “Back at your place?”

“Absolutely,” he says, his voice dropping an octave. “You pick the movie this time.”

“Hmm,” I murmur, even though I know no one can hear us. “Maybe we can watch the one where you played the crazy stripper,” I tease him.

“You saw that?” he asks, his voice full of humor.

“Uh huh,” I say as I move my mouth to his neck. I slide one hand up, settling it on the side of his neck, while I kiss, bite, and suck at the opposite side and his pulse really kicks up. Not to mention his evident hardness pressing against my thigh. Something akin to pride rushes through me as I grin.

Knowing I have that effect on him, that I turn him on…

Fuck, that makes me feel so good I can’t even describe it.

“I’ve seen all your movies,” I tell him. “How could I not?”

His head falls back, giving me more access and I take it greedily.

I want him. I want all he’s willing to give me, yes, but I want so much more than that.

I want to make him feel the way he makes me feel.

My mouth moves slowly up his neck until I’m just below his ear. I kiss the tender spot, continue to bite and suck as my grip on his throat tightens just enough to make his pulse race, but not enough to choke him or hurt him. His cock twitches against me, which must mean he likes it.

My own jumps in response because he likes it.

I thrust my hips against his instinctively, drinking in the sounds he makes when I do so.

The little moans, the heavy breathing, the whispered curses.

I move my mouth back to his and kiss him again. His mouth opens for me without protest. My tongue finds his and my free hand slides to his prominent erection.

“Austen…” The way he says my name is so full of emotion, it makes me stop.

“Is this okay?” I ask, his pulse still racing beneath my palm on his neck. He looks at me, kiss-swollen lips and hooded eyes making my cock twitch, and my heart skip a beat.

“I can… I can stop if it’s not,” I say, worried history will repeat itself. That I’ll get carried away and mess everything up, but fuck…

It’s like ever since last night, I can’t help myself. I’ve never felt desire like this before, and it’s terrifying. It also feels so good, I don’t know how to stop. But if he wants me to, I will.

The last thing I want to do is hurt him or make him uncomfortable.

Anxiety forms in my stomach.

There’s a heavy pause before he kisses me, sliding his tongue into my mouth again as he moves his hand from my hip to my ass. He grabs it, pulling me closer, like he can’t get enough of me either.

Like he wants me as badly as I want him.

“I don’t want you to stop,” he murmurs against my mouth. “But I also don’t want to come in my pants in the middle of Central Park,” he says, his voice tinged with humor and lust.

I don’t think twice about the words that come out of my mouth, even though they are a bit terrifying to hear out loud.

“Then come in my mouth instead,” I say, my voice low and raspy as I deftly unlatch his belt. His cock throbs against me, and I don’t miss the way he tenses, clearly surprised. I know I chickened out earlier, mostly because I just wasn’t ready for how fast it happened. I couldn’t decide what I wanted to do, and as such I ended up using my hand instead. I’m still not entirely sure what I’m doing, but I’m a fast learner. Always have been. I’ll be ready this time. And I know Cam won’t judge me. At least, I hope he won’t.

“Fuck, Austen…” He moans as I bite at his bottom lip. I half expect him to push me away, because we are in public, but he doesn’t.

Not when I kiss his neck, not when I slide my hand between the opening of his underwear, not when I cup my palm around his cockhead, running my thumb across his wet slit.

The way he moans my name mixed with the feel of his cock in my hand has me so hard I’m not all that certain I won’t come in my own pants.

I love it. I fucking love it.

From this angle, even if someone were to walk by, they wouldn’t be able to see much. My body covers him enough. It’s dark. But when I get on my knees, like I plan to do, there won’t be any mistaking what’s happening, and something about that makes me more turned on.

I stroke him slowly, taking my time as I squeeze him, let go, and then stroke. I repeat the motions, listening to the soft sounds he makes, watching the way his eyes fall shut, the way his mouth parts as he groans.

I drop to my knees, using one hand to guide him into my mouth as fast as I can. I feel his cock twitch, and his breath catches.

“Oh fuck,” he says, nearly breathless. His hand finds the back of my head as I grip him at his base, more familiar with the thickness and size of him in my mouth.

I roll my tongue around his head before taking him in further, adjusting my cock as he curses. Emboldened by his touch, his breathy moans, I close my eyes and take him to the back of my throat. He doesn’t move much, but I can tell he wants to because of the tension in his grip. I remove my mouth for a moment, glancing up at him, throwing his words back at him.

“Don’t treat me like I’m fragile, Cam.” I lick my lips. “If you want to fuck my mouth, do it.” My voice is low, darker than I’ve ever heard it. “I can take it.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks, his tone making my cock twitch. I nod as I wrap my lips around him once more and I take him into the back of my throat in one motion. I hit my gag reflex, but the grip of his hand in my hair tells me it’s not embarrassing to him. His hips thrust erratically, and I just know he's close. So fucking close…

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he warns as my mouth fills with warm, salty cum. I close my eyes, swallowing quickly and trying my hardest not to think about what I’m actually swallowing, because if I do, I’ll freak out.

“Ohmygod,” Cam hisses, stringing his words together breathlessly. “Austen…”

He grips my hair in his fist and pulls, likely a reflex from his orgasm, but…

The groan that escapes my throat is unavoidable. Fuck, I like that.

I swipe my tongue over his slit once more to make sure he’s clean, before tucking him back into his pants and making him presentable again and then I get to my feet. I can’t stop smiling as he catches his breath.

He looks at me, chest heaving, pupils blown, and I feel like a million bucks seeing that look on his face. Knowing I put it there.

He reaches for my hip, pulling me closer. His hand slides over my hardness as his gaze flashes up at me, asking the wordless question.

I kiss him once more, sliding my tongue into his mouth as I settle one hand over his heart. Like mine, it beats fast.

I use my other hand to adjust my cock and push him off, instead letting my fingers slide between his. His gaze is full of unspoken words as he glances down at my twitchy cock, then to where our hands connect.

“Don’t worry, you can make it up to me later,” I say with a smirk. My stomach growls, and I have to stifle a laugh.

“Is that a promise or a threat?” he taunts, squeezing my hand.

“Call in the pizza,” I say, squeezing back before I let go. I slide both my hands back in my pockets. “And get extra pineapple.”

I watch his smirk as he pulls out his phone and I can’t stop grinning.

It’s nearing one a.m. by the time we get home.

Home. The word rings in my ear, shattering my reality.

Home is in Ashbourne.

Home is with Savannah.

I stop as Cam sets down the pizza box on the island, feeling frozen.

She hasn’t texted or called me once. But did I expect her to?

No. But still, it hurts knowing I don’t matter to her.

“Hey,” Cam calls, and I look up, coming out of my momentary lapse.

He hands me a plate with two slices of pizza, sans pineapple.

“Thanks,” I say as I settle on the couch while he goes to change. I grab the remote, flipping through the movie choices, but nothing stands out. My anxiety starts festering again, and I can’t stop thinking about Savannah.

Or more accurately, her words.

Maybe it’s not about the properties.

I glance at Cam, who comes out, dressed in nothing but his underwear. I’m acutely aware of how many people have seen him just like this. Tan toned arms and chest, the curve of his ass, the messy hair.

But it also feels different. Intimate in a way I can’t explain.

The gold from my wedding band glints in the low light. I twist it, watching as he pads his way over to the fridge.

The first time I cheated on Savannah, I was drunk. I told myself I didn’t know what I was doing. That it was a mistake. But it wasn’t a mistake.

I knew what I was doing, drunk or not, and I chose to kiss him that night. I chose to follow him back to our hotel room. I chose him that night and it destroyed us, but we found our way back to one another and now…

I look at Cam as the truth settles.

What I’m doing with Cam… it’s so much more than cheating. It’s not about the sex. It never was.

I should feel bad about it. I know that. I should feel guilty about what we’re doing.

But I don’t.

Does that make me a bad person? It certainly makes me a shitty husband.

Absentmindedly, I turn my ring, the metal cold against my skin as the thought lands.

The first time, I reasoned it was a drunk mistake. I cheated on my fiancée with my gay best friend, and I wasn’t sure what that said about me on so many levels. I was convinced I was straight, and nothing was going to get in the way of the life I wanted, but I know now that I was lying to myself.

Because if the last two days have taught me anything, it’s that I’m not the person I thought I was.

I’m not the good guy, and I’m definitely not straight. I’ve never been attracted to another man though, so I’m not entirely sure I’m gay. Can you be gay for one person? Is that a thing? I don’t know, and I’m not sure I want to think about it. I don’t want to question what feels right.

I don’t want to over think because if I do, I’ll start to spiral.

I’m not stupid. I know what I’m doing, and I know it’ll have to stop. But I don’t want it to stop.

How can I go back to my life now? Now that I know this exists?

I don’t think I can…

“You okay?” he asks as he hands me a bottle of water before sitting next to me.

I nod slowly. “Yeah, just tired, I guess. It’s been a long couple days,” I say, trying to shove the thoughts away so I don’t fall apart.

Don’t let him see you fall apart. A lifelong mantra resurfaces.

But he’s already seen me fall apart. And he’s still here.

He’s still here.

Cam looks at me curiously, but he doesn’t press me.

“Yeah, I guess. How long you staying?”

It’s not the words or the way he says them. It’s the implication, the unsaid words.

Like he wants to know if I’m leaving.

If I’m leaving him.

My stomach twists into knots at the thought of leaving Cameron.

But I’m not sure I can stay either. God, how did things get so complicated?

“Five days,” I say softly.

He nods, his gaze warm, understanding.

“You can stay as long as you like, you know.” His words are even, solid.

“Do you want me to?” I ask, licking my lips, my heart in my throat. “Stay?”

I know we’re talking about my lodging situation, but I also get the feeling we’re not talking about my lodging situation.

And I don’t know how I feel about that.

Actually, that’s a lie. I do know how I feel, but I don’t know if I can say it out loud yet.

“Yes,” Cam’s voice is careful. Guarded even. “But do you want to?”

“Yeah.” I nod. “I kinda like it here, to be honest.”

I love it.

He nods as he leans back into the couch cushions with a soft smile. “Glad you approve.”

He casually stretches one arm along the back of the couch, his fingertips barely touching my shoulder.

I lean into him without thinking. Like instinct.

He glances at me with an expression I can only describe as loving.

It makes my stomach flip, my blood rush, and my heart skip a beat.

“Your turn to pick the movie,” he says calmly.

I shake my head. “I like when you do it,” I say.

Cam smirks. “I know,” he answers, his fingers teasing my shoulder. “Guess you can give up control sometimes.” He steals the remote from my hand, queuing up A League of Their Own.

I finish my pizza, shoving the plate across the coffee table, and draw my legs up, leaning against my best friend.

Best friend.

The words don’t feel right. Not anymore. Yes, he is my best friend… but he’s not.

Somewhere deep inside, I know he’s so much more than that.

But I also know he can’t be more than that.

I look up at him, my heart in my throat as the truth hits me in the face like a brick.

I think…

I think I’m falling in love with him. Or maybe I’ve always been in love with him?

The air around me thins, and it’s like time stops.

Cam catches my stare, raising an eyebrow at me.

“What? Do I have sauce on my face?” he asks.

I shake my head, the words stuck in my throat.

Oh, fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Just appreciating the view,” I say weakly. I’m surprised I can speak coherently at all.

He turns off the television, grabs my chin, and kisses me. It’s not frantic or messy, or playful like he has been.

It’s slow, passionate. Loving.

He tastes like tomatoes and pineapple, and broken vows.

Like heaven and hell and dreams I don’t want to stop chasing.

So for the moment, I stop running and let myself catch him.

I hold him in my grasp and deepen our kiss, savoring this moment. Savoring him, just like this.

When he breaks away, he smiles.

“Come on,” he says, getting up, holding his hand out to me. “I know you’re fucking beat, too.”

I look at his open hand, then up at him.

I take his hand and let him lead us to his bedroom, to his bed. I wrap my arms around him, pulling him close, and slumber takes us both like a thief in the night.