Page 2 of Healed Hearts (Mended Hearts #2)

Chapter One

Holden

D on’t get me wrong. I’m thrilled for my best friend, Roman, but if I have to hear the man getting dicked down, or dicking down, or whatever the hell he likes one more time, I’m going to scream.

I know it’s probably not appropriate to get a boner over the sounds your best friend and his fiancé make when they’re fucking. But alas, I’m only a man, and I can only take so much.

I sigh, throwing the blankets off myself, and climb from the bed. I was trying to go to bed early, but judging by the sounds coming from the next room, that’s not going to be happening anytime soon.

I’ve been working in the ER since I first finished nursing school and got licensed, but I’m ready for a change. Tomorrow is my first day in the pediatric unit, and I’m really excited, but a little nervous, hence the early bedtime.

I can’t handle any more of this , though, for sure. And I refuse—absolutely refuse —to jerk off. Not when it’s the live porn show next door that’s getting my dick hard. It’s not even like it’s them specifically. I am a red-blooded gay man, after all, and they aren’t exactly quiet, but it’s still a line I won’t cross. I glance around the room. I guess I could go out. Let them do… whatever it is they’re doing and go find some fun of my own.

A niggle of anxiety stirs in my gut at the thought, but I shove it down. I’m not sixteen anymore, and I’m in charge, truly in charge, of what I want and what I’ll allow to happen to me. No one else gets to make the rules for my body.

I open the closet door and check out my options. It was warm today, so I reach in, grabbing my favorite cropped shirt and a pair of my tightest jeans. Once I’m dressed, I head to the bathroom to apply some eyeliner. If I had known those two would be going at it like that, and I’d end up deciding to go out, I wouldn’t have even taken it off.

After heading back to my room to grab my phone, I fire off a quick text to Ro to let him know I’m going out. Then I grab my keys and head out the door.

The music in the club is pounding. It’s a pity that Ro’s hometown is so small that I had to drive half an hour to get here, but whatever. At least there’s something close by.

I sit down at the bar and ask for water. I probably could have a drink, but I’ve never touched alcohol and I never will. Maybe it’s some misguided loyalty to Ro, but more than that, I’ve never felt the need to. Besides, you don’t get skin as glowy and smooth as mine while putting trash in your body.

As I’m sipping on my water, I scan the crowded dance floor, my eyes snagging on a man standing along the wall. He’s fucking huge, and yeah, okay, I know I’m small. But he’s massive, even compared to normal standards. His black shirt is stretched over his muscles, his biceps almost too big to be contained within the fabric, and his wide chest tapering off to what looks like a mouthwatering, soft belly. My cock gives a little twitch in my jeans as I watch him. He’s scanning the dance floor, but it doesn’t look like he’s actively looking for something. Not the way I am, anyway.

He brings a hand up, running in through his artfully messy black hair. Like he can tell that I’m watching him, his gaze turns to mine. This is the ride or die moment right here. If he asserts his dominance as the big bad guy who can do whatever he wants, I’m out. I don’t play those games. I’m in control or I’m gone. No other option.

For a long while, his eyes don’t leave mine, but then they drop, and he does a slow perusal of my body. He doesn’t give any indication that he’s about to walk over here and be a creep, so that’s a point for him. Instead, he lets his eyes smoothly move away from me and goes back to scanning the dance floor. It’s a cat-and-mouse game, though, because within a couple of seconds his eyes are on mine again.

After a few minutes of us staring each other down, he cocks his head to the side, as if to say ball’s in your court , and honestly? That’s all the invitation I need. I stand from the barstool and head in his direction.

It’s hard for me to have meaningless hookups. I need physical connection just as much as the next person, of course, but I generally don’t trust people enough to get close to them. And I have a laundry list of rules about sex and what I’ll allow. I don’t want hearts and flowers and romance, but I also don’t want to feel used.

When I’m standing in front of him, I glance up. Holy fuck, this dude is tall. Like, easily a foot taller than me. There’s something about him that puts me at ease, which you’d think would put me at ease, but it doesn’t. It makes all my usual calm vanish, and I hold my hand out—like a fucking idiot—to shake his hand. It almost feels like I’m setting up a business transaction, which… oof. Not the best analogy, Hold.

Thankfully, his eyes light up with humor, and he reaches out, sliding his large hand into mine. A rush of… something flies up my arm at the contact, and I have to resist the urge to jerk my hand away from him.

His voice is a low rumble when he speaks. “I’m Julian.”

“I’m Holden. Let’s pretend I didn’t shake your hand like a damn idiot, okay?” I say, pulling my hand from his, letting it fall to my side.

His deep chuckle washes over me, and I have to resist the urge to groan. Fuck me, his voice is deep. “Wanna get out of here?” I ask as I eye him up and down. My usual car fuck and run isn’t going to work for this guy. I’m not even sure he’d fit in my car.

He seems to think about it for a second, but he nods. “My place or yours?”

“Mine’s half an hour away, so if yours is closer…” I let my voice trail off.

“I’m about fifteen out.”

Sounds perfect to me. I give him a thumbs up, and immediately want to facepalm.

I follow him as he walks through the throng of people dancing, watching as the muscles in his back flex with each step. He carries himself with a confidence that exhilarates me as much as it makes me nervous.

“I’ll follow you, yeah?” I ask as we step out into the muggy parking lot.

“Sounds good to me,” he responds. And good lord almighty, that fucking voice.

“I should probably tell you before we go,” I start, waiting until he turns to look at me to continue. “I don’t do anal and I don’t kiss. So, if that’s what you’re looking for, we should go our separate ways now.”

I study his face carefully to make sure there’s no trick or deceit when he says, “That’s fine. I don’t mind.” He almost looks relieved, a tension I didn’t even notice at first dropping from his shoulders.

Relief floods me, and I nod, heading toward my car. I wait until he backs out before doing the same, and follow him out of the lot onto the highway. I’m glad that he agreed so easily to no anal. He looked sincere too, like it really didn’t bother him. I know most people look at me and see a tiny twink, and that’s fine. But I’m not a tiny twink you can fuck with, and I’m definitely not a tiny twink who’s gonna bend over for any more assholes. I’ve had more than my fair share of that already. Not that I think this guy is an asshole, but the statement still stands.

It doesn’t take long before he’s pulling into a driveway. I park behind him and pin my location for Roman, then step out of the car. We have a system, and he knows if I drop my location, I’m with someone. If I don’t reach out, and his attempts to reach me are unsuccessful, he’ll come get me. Thankfully, it’s not something we’ve ever had to use, as I’m pretty good at holding my own, but it makes me feel a little safer in situations like this.

I follow Julian into the house. He’s kind of quiet, and it has me a bit on edge. Part of me thinks maybe this is a bad idea, but a bigger part of me wants to get off, and for now, that’s the part I’m going to listen to. He leads me to the couch, and that feels a little too much like being used for me, so I hesitate. He notices and turns to me. “Everything okay? We don’t have to do this if you’re uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s…” I sigh, irritated that I can’t get over this stupid shit already. It’s been years, Holden. Let it go . “I have some… hang-ups about sex.”

To my surprise, he chuckles, deep and rich and warm, and fuck me. I would have this man’s babies. “Don’t we all. What can I do to make you more comfortable?”

What can I do to make you more comfortable? Did he seriously just ask me that? Has anyone ever asked me that? “Um, a bed. I can’t… the couch is…” My voice trails off. I can’t tell him the truth. Hell, I haven’t even told Roman how bad my hang-ups with sex are.

He glances at the couch, then turns to me with a nod. “Okay. We can go to the bed.”

I nod, a weight lifting off my chest as I follow him to a room off the living room. He shuts the door behind us and turns to face me. To my absolute shock, he drops to his knees, and my cock twitches at the sight of him kneeling in front of me. When he lifts his gaze to my face, his deep brown eyes are soft. The way he takes me in—his eyes moving slowly across my features—feels more intimate than it has any right to. His expression makes my stomach twist and my heart flutter in my throat. Oh, that’s… not a fun feeling. I swallow hard, trying to get my heart back into my chest where it belongs.

It doesn’t really work.

Game face, Hold .

I smirk down at him. “Are we gonna do this or?” I ask, hoping that my voice doesn’t sound as terrified to him as it does to me.

His lips part as he pulls in a shaky breath. His eyes drop again, thank God, and he softly murmurs, “I really like this piercing.” His fingers gently circle my belly button, and my stomach clenches at the gentle touch. I know I said I need sex to feel personal, but maybe not this personal. Holy hell. His eyes dart to mine. “Is it okay if I kiss you here?” he asks, his fingers slipping under the hem of my shirt, his knuckles brushing against my skin.

I nod. Am I breathing heavily? Feels like I am. Why is this affecting me so much? Maybe I should leave—a breathy sound falls from my lips as his warm mouth settles on my sternum. The deep groan he lets out against my skin makes my dick harden rapidly. This is too much. I bring my hands up with the intent to push him away from me, but I find myself twisting my fingers into his thick hair instead.

Jesus, this feels so good. He grips my sides, holding me in place as he works his lips down my stomach toward the waistband of my jeans. I genuinely couldn’t tell you the last time I was this turned on, and he’s barely even touched me. My brain is screaming danger, danger, danger , but my body is screaming oh, fuck yes .

When he reaches my hipbones, he pauses, lifting his gaze to mine. “What are you comfortable doing?” he asks, eyes locked on me. Something about the way he asks it has my pulse skyrocketing and my cock throbbing. It also fills me with a good deal of confusion. This is not how my usual hookups go.

“Um, I’m okay with frotting.”

“Would you like to get in bed?” he asks, and then he smiles. It’s soft, teasing almost. “Something tells me we may have to get a little creative to get things lined up properly, and that might be easier lying down.”

I belatedly realize that I’m still gripping his hair, so I drop my hands and step back. “Okay.”

He stands in one fluid motion that should not be as graceful as it is considering how big he is, and grips the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head. Good lord, I was right. If I had a perfect type, it would one hundred percent be this man. He’s strong, that’s clear to see. His arms are, quite honestly, bigger around than my thighs, his shoulders broad, and it all tapers down into the sexiest fucking stomach I’ve ever seen in my life. No six-pack, just soft fucking perfection.

I almost swallow my tongue at the sight of the dark hair dusted across his chest and down to his waistband. I make a strange noise, something between a moan and a gasp, and force my eyes to meet his. We stare at each other in silence for a second before he speaks up. “I can put my shirt back on if you’d like.”

“In what world would I like that?” I blurt out, appalled at the idea of him covering all that up.

He shrugs, bringing his hands in front of his stomach like he’s self-conscious. “I know it’s not everyone’s cup of tea.”

“Oh, it’s most certainly my cup of tea.”

His lips quirk up in a grin. I’m officially done waiting and freaking out. I pull my shirt over my head and unbutton my jeans, my cock practically sobbing in relief that it has more room. Julian’s eyes follow my movements, his throat bobbing as I undress. “Take your clothes off, if you’d like,” I say as I kick off my shoes and pull my jeans down my legs to take them off.

“You’re a little bossy, huh?” he asks, and I lift my gaze to his quickly. He doesn’t look like he hates that, though, or like it’s a bad thing. He’s giving me that same grin as before, and I let myself relax a little.

“I said, ‘if you’d like.’”

He chuckles, and the deep sound causes all kinds of weird shit to happen to my stomach. Okay, Hold, that’s enough. Get in, get off, get out.

He strips down fully and climbs onto the bed. Once I’m naked, I waste no time joining him. “Do you have lube?” I ask.

His face does something complicated, and what looks a lot like panic flashes across it. “Shit. No. I think there’s lotion in the bathroom, though. Hang on.”

What kind of man doesn’t keep lube by the bed? What the hell? He jumps up and runs off, returning a minute later, a bottle of lotion in his hand. I let my eyes trail down his body as he comes back to the bed. I’m half-convinced this man is a gift from God himself. Fucking hell. When he climbs in, I waste no time. I straddle his hips and reach for the bottle of lotion he’s still holding. After pouring a generous amount in my palm, I reach down and grip us both in my hand.

Which, okay, is not exactly working for me.

I may be small in stature, but I’m not exactly… proportionate . And well, Julian is . My fingers don’t even come close to fully wrapping around both of us. He makes a strangled sound, so I glance up at him. He’s staring down at our cocks, eyes wide, lips spit-slick like he licked them. My stomach flutters and for a brief moment, the thought of leaning down and pressing my lips to his flashes through my mind. A hot spike of something shoots through my body at the thought.

Nope. No. Not going there.

“Am I crazy or is that really fucking hot?” he murmurs, his eyes darting to mine. All I can do is nod because yeah, it lowkey really fucking is. I adjust my grip, more to hold us together than anything, and rock my hips so my cock slides against his. I watch as his eyes roll back, a pleasured zing shooting up my spine at the sight.

Get in, get off, get out, Hold.

Forcing my gaze down to our cocks, I watch, entranced, as mine moves through the incomplete tunnel I’ve created with my hand. “Can I?” he asks, bringing his hand down like he’s about to take over.

The thought of having his hands on me makes my stomach contract with want. “Yeah, that’d be okay, I think.”

I pull my hand away, and he takes over, his larger hand having no problem at all squeezing us together in his tight grip. He starts stroking and a moan rips from my chest, his low groan echoing it. My rocking hips pick up their pace as he matches his strokes to my rhythm.

His other hand comes up to grab my hip. I lift my gaze back to his to find him staring at me. “Is this okay?” he asks. It’s breathy, raspy, even. My cock jerks. Is this… am I getting off on him asking me for consent? Pleasure floods my body at the thought, and my dick throbs, pre-cum forming at the tip. Oh my God. Yeah, I think I am.

Holy shit.