Accidentally in Love (13 page)

Tom woke with a headache he wished he could blame on a hangover. It felt more like stress and lack of sleep, though. It had taken him hours to fall asleep, and even then he’d woken every few hours thrashing around in search of the ideal position and failing to find it.

He’d replayed the events of the night before until they were worn thin and had lost any meaning. At this point, he’d come up with so many alternative versions of the conversation that the original was fuzzy in his head. The only certainty was that Cal had said he was interested in him, and Tom, handed just what he wanted, had refused it.

“Which means that I’m officially insane,” Tom muttered, pulling on shorts and then a robe, all that he normally wore in the morning before his shower. He felt naked in them today, but he wasn’t going to change anything because of what had happened. Sooner or later, he was going to have to face Cal, and it would be awkward as hell but unavoidable.

In the mirror, he looked exhausted, his hair sticking up in tufts, defeating the deft scissor work of the hairdresser the day before. He patted at it doubtfully with a brush and sighed when it stubbornly defied his efforts.

He heard the creak of the steps as Cal came downstairs. It was a sound that threatened to keep him in his room all day, and that was ridiculous. He hadn’t let romance turn him into an idiot yet, and he wasn’t going to start today. Taking a deep breath, Tom went out to the kitchen.

Cal was wrestling with the plastic part of the coffeemaker that held the grounds; it had a reusable filter, but Cal insisted on using a paper filter inside that, claiming it was the only thing keeping him from making a horrible mess on the mornings he was the one who made the coffee. As Tom came into the room, Cal jerked the basket with a little too much force. The paper filter, full of damp grounds, popped out of the basket and hit the floor.

“Fuck,” Cal said, looking down at it.

“I’m not going to say I told you so.” Tom went to the recycling bin for some newspaper, then crouched next to Cal. “Sweep it onto here.”

Even with the help of the newspaper, Cal ended up with coffee grounds clinging to his hands. Tom turned the faucet on for him so he could rinse them clean. It didn’t occur to Tom until too late that he should have stepped back away from the sink. Cal’s hip bumped his, and moving away would have been rude. “Thanks,” Cal said softly, and even first thing in the morning with a probable hangover, he smelled good. It was so unfair.

“You’re welcome. How’s your head?” Tom knew immediately that that had been another mistake right there, reminding Cal of the night before.

“I’m okay. I drank a couple of glasses of water before I went to sleep.” Cal dried his hands on a tea towel. “How about you?”

“I wasn’t drunk,” Tom pointed out.

“No.” Cal started to measure fresh coffee into a new paper filter.

“Why do you keep doing that?” Tom asked, exasperated. “Why do you insist on doing the same thing when it doesn’t work?”

Setting the paper sack of coffee down, Cal braced both hands on the edge of the counter. “I’m trying,” he said slowly, like he was trying not to lose his patience, “to change. Someone doesn’t seem to think I’m capable of it.”

Bewildered, Tom gestured at the coffeemaker. “I don’t get it. What has all this got to do with…with us?”

“Never mind,” Cal bit out. “It doesn’t matter. Make the damn coffee any way you like.”

He turned away, but Tom grabbed his arm before he could walk by. Cal was wearing a short-sleeved T-shirt over jeans, and Tom’s fingers closed around warm skin. It jolted him out of his annoyance into a sharp, intense arousal, as if that single touch had taken him back to the couch, with Cal’s mouth on his. Cal’s kisses… Tom had thought he’d enjoyed being kissed by Joe, but the first kiss from Cal had made him realize he’d only felt a mild pleasure at best. Tom felt addicted to Cal’s mouth, hungry for another taste, another chance to lose himself in sensation as Cal’s tongue met his, their breath mingled.

“Don’t go.”

Cal turned toward him and slid an arm around his waist, resting his temple against Tom’s. Tom could feel Cal’s whole body straining to press closer, and the effort it took for Cal not to give in. “I don’t think I can do this.” Cal sounded desperate. “I don’t know how to be near you and not touch you. I want you so much. I think…I think I love you, and I don’t know how to do that either.”

“I guess we’re both in the same boat when it comes to that,” Tom said, the truth of it sinking in. He’d assumed Cal had done everything and was confident and doubt-free. Tom had envied him that assurance. When it came to sex, that was probably true, though Tom couldn’t see himself asking Cal for details.
But love
? Maybe not so much.

Equality of inexperience lent Tom some confidence of his own, coupled with a yearning that was impossible to deny. He wanted Cal, and if he ended up with a broken heart, it was still better than feeling this…this
empty.

“Forget what I said last night,” he told Cal, breathless because his heart was pounding and he could feel the fine tremor running through Cal when he ran his hand down Cal’s arm to capture his hand. “You… I need you, Cal. Need… Oh God, you’re just so—” He broke off, the words he was trying to say crowding his throat, jammed there because there were so many of them, and really, it was so much simpler to just kiss Cal.

Sunlight was streaming in through the window, and on the counter, a butter-smeared knife was attracting the attention of a fly that had been buzzing around for a day or two, impossible to catch or swat, and they’d both tried. Everything was the same; everything had changed. Tom closed his eyes, sinking into the sensations of the kiss, the scrape of Cal’s unshaven chin against his, the soft, wet lick of Cal’s tongue. He whimpered a protest when Cal’s mouth moved away for Cal to catch his breath.

“Wait.” Cal took Tom’s face between his hands and looked into his eyes pleadingly. “Are you sure? Not that I won’t stop when you want to stop. I’ll always do that. I just can’t keep playing this game where you pull me closer, then push me away again. I know you’re not doing it on purpose, but it’s killing me. So tell me you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” Tom said and kissed him again with everything he had in him. Cal tasted perfect. Tom leaned in against him until Cal took two steps backward and hit the countertop. Much better—now Tom could press close, and there was nowhere for Cal to go.

He knew he hadn’t thought this through, but really, love and sex and all those emotional reactions weren’t meant to be earnestly debated with neat lists of pros and cons to consider. He was twenty-five now, and he was damned if he was going to keep living vicariously, watching Cal’s dates come and go, jerking off and telling himself it was just as good as being with someone else. It
did
feel good—it’d been the only way he could get to sleep the night before—but if kissing Cal felt like this, Tom was beginning to think sex would leave him as wiped out as a marathon.

“Tell me what to do.” Tom slipped his hand between them and fumbled for a grip on Cal’s cock, hard but as frustratingly hidden behind jeans as it had been the night before. “Let me see you.”

Cal groaned. “Tom.
Tom
. This is—”

“What?” Tom asked, exasperated. It was like he couldn’t win no matter what he did, and Cal, the prize, was left tantalizingly out of reach.

“I want to do this right with you. Not here in the kitchen. You deserve better.” Cal sounded more like he was saying something he thought he was supposed to than like he actually believed it, which was even more frustrating.

“Then where?”

“Your bedroom? Mine? Maybe yours.”

“Mine,” Tom said once he’d had a few seconds to think about it. Cal had probably had hundreds of men in his bed, and Tom didn’t like the idea of sharing in that.

“That’s fine with me.” Cal immediately headed for the door.

“Here would’ve been fine with me,” Tom muttered under his breath, following him. It wasn’t that he didn’t agree a bed was better, but he’d been so ready right there in the kitchen, and now he had to go upstairs—admittedly with Cal’s very nice ass to look at—and start over.

It was also starting to worry him that Cal might expect them to do the kinds of things Cal was used to doing. Tom wasn’t sure he was ready for a lot of what he’d seen in porn movies or read about. Not before breakfast. There was also the issue of safe sex. Tom got to the bedroom door and froze.

“What’s wrong?” Cal asked, his arms out of his T-shirt as he prepared to pull it off over his head. “Tom?”

Tom tried to smile reassuringly, and Cal’s face crumpled with dismay. “Oh God, I’m sorry.” He shrugged his T-shirt back on, smoothing it down selfconsciously. “Rushing. I’ve got to stop that. Better?”

“Yes. No. I didn’t mind you with it off,” Tom said. He took a deep breath. “Are you, uh, I mean, you don’t have any, uh, health issues do you?” he blurted out. “Not that I think you would, but I’m just wondering. Asking. I mean, you’re supposed to, right? I don’t. That I know of. I got tested for some life insurance thing about five months ago, and I haven’t done anything since, nothing on the list, no needles, no sex, well, you know about that, but I’m fine and I just wondered…”

His voice trailed away to nothing, and he turned to bang his head against the door frame, groaning at the way he’d ruined the mood. “Okay. This? This is why I don’t date,” he said without looking at Cal.

“Come here.” Cal walked toward him and took his hand. “And don’t do that. Are you okay?” He rubbed Tom’s head tenderly, then put both arms around him and just stood there. Tom wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but it wasn’t a hug. One of Cal’s hands rubbed his shoulder reassuringly, the other at the back of his neck.

After twenty seconds or so, Tom sighed and relaxed into the warmth of the embrace. “I’m so stupid.”

“Don’t do that either. You’re not stupid.” Cal didn’t pull away, just kept holding him. “You’re smart. That’s exactly the kind of question you should be asking a potential partner, and you should still be safe. Never trust what anyone tells you. Even me.”

Tom felt a rush of anxiety and pulled back so he could see Cal’s face. “You’re okay, right? You aren’t sick or anything?”

“No, I’m fine. And I’m always careful. I’ll be careful with you too. You don’t have to worry about that. I’d never put you at risk, okay?” Cal smiled at him.

It was impossible not to believe him. Tom had been a looker-on most of his life, watching from the sidelines. That meant that he’d gotten pretty good at reading people. There was nothing in Cal’s eyes apart from sincerity and concern and Cal had never lied to him, even about the little stuff. As much as Tom had liked Sally, Cal’s predecessor, she’d peppered her life with what she called fibs, not just the polite lies to avoid hurt feelings that most people said, but lies to get herself out of trouble, no matter how small.

Tom had once stood a few feet back from the doorway of the kitchen and watched her break his favorite red mug. He’d faded away, going into the living room to avoid upsetting her, and waited for her to tell him what she’d done. She never had. Even when, annoyed, he’d asked her about it point-blank, she’d told him he was wrong, and she’d broken a red cereal bowl, one of a set she owned.

Cal, who washed up with a cheerful, take-no-prisoners approach, had broken more than a couple of items belonging to Tom. He’d told Tom about it with an apologetic smile immediately and produced a replacement soon after.

“I know you wouldn’t.” Tom saw Cal’s expression brighten and relax. “Look, I freaked out there. I’m going to do that again, probably. Just…just keep telling me it’s going to be okay?”

Cal smiled again, this time with a warmth in his eyes that made Tom’s jitters die away, replaced by the arousal that had made him willing to strip down in the middle of his kitchen for Cal. “It’s not going to be okay, Tom. It’s going to be much better than that.”

Tom believed that too. Wanting to show Cal that he was totally on board now, he stepped back, took off his robe, letting it fall to the floor, and hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his shorts.

Cal put out his hand and laid it over Tom’s. “Let me take them off?” Cal said.

The shudder that went through Tom at that suggestion shook his whole body. Even his voice trembled. “Okay.”

Slowly, Cal lowered himself to his knees, and Tom went from half-hard to fully erect in less time than it took to blink. His skin tingled as Cal slipped fingers under his waistband and then, almost unbelievably, leaned in and pressed lips in a gentle kiss to Tom’s hip. Cal looked up at him and smiled. “I’m going to take these off you now.”

“Promise?” Tom managed shakily. Part of him was afraid he might come just from the sight of Cal on his knees.

“Promise.” And Cal tugged Tom’s shorts down, freeing his cock. It would have been so easy for Cal to lean forward a few inches and suck Tom’s dick, and God, Tom wanted that so much that remaining standing seemed like a challenge. “Tell me,” Cal said, the words making air move across Tom’s skin, “what you want. I’ll do anything you want me to do.”

Being given the illusion of control—and at that instant, Cal owned Tom, and Tom didn’t even try to deny it—should have steadied him. It didn’t. He was a starving man at a feast, too bewildered by choice to actually make one. Stalling, Tom freed his feet from the shorts tangling them and stood naked in front of Cal.