Bonds of Denial (4 page)

Carter gripped him. The blood rushed in to swell his dick until it was as hard as his name. The material of his pants rustled when Carter fisted the length and stroked.

Rock’s garbled groan was trapped in his throat, but his open-mouthed expression was unmistakable in the window. The blended furrow of pain and pleasure was marked on his brow. He couldn’t breathe, let alone think.

Fucking shit
. It was heaven and hell.

Seven years since another man had touched him like this. But never like this. Others had stroked his cock, sucked it, but no one had ever lulled him with the gentle caress of seduction.

Carter’s moan of approval rumbled from his chest to vibrate against Rock’s ear. “You feel incredible.” He backed up his statement with another rock of his hips that matched the slide of his hand over Rock.

They were still fully clothed and his skin was damp with sweat, his shirt clinging to his back beneath his wool suit jacket. His head spun with the battle that warred between his mind and body. His breath labored once again in shallow pants that hitched at irregular intervals.

The slow thrust and glide of Carter’s erection over his knuckles mimicked the up-and-down slide of the man’s fist on his dick. Erotically timed in a motion that would’ve had them fucking if they were naked.

Fucking.

Carter fucking him.

Shit
.

He spun out of Carter’s hold and was around the man, skating across the laminate flooring before conscious thought registered. It was too much. He couldn’t do that. It. Anything.

He was a fucking coward.

“This was a mistake,” he mumbled, his eyes roaming everywhere but at the man who still
stood on the other side of the room.

“Hey. Rock,” Carter soothed. “It’s okay.”

“No.” Rock shook his head, a hard assertion that it was very far from okay. “It’s…” He shook his head again, backing up with each sharp inhale. “I’m sorry.” His head buzzed with the white noise that filled it. His vision closed, blackness dulling the edges as it tunneled in.

“Rock.”

You disgust me
. The harsh slap of his father’s voice jarred his chin up. The confused but understanding expression on Carter’s handsome face brought him back to the present. There was no judgment that Rock could distinguish. Yet he couldn’t stop judging himself.

Carter took a step forward, his hands lax at his sides. Nonthreatening. “You did nothing wrong. I’m sorry I pushed.”

Maybe, but it didn’t stop him from feeling like it was all wrong. He was all wrong. Years of self-loathing soiled his blood. He dug into his pocket, pulled a few bills from his money clip and tossed them on the desk. “I’m sorry about this. It’s nothing you did.”

He was out the door and down the hall before Carter could say anything more. The door to the room closed behind him as he slammed into the stairwell. He couldn’t wait for the elevator. The risk of Carter following him was too high. He couldn’t deal with that. Not now.

Every flight down, every click of his heels on the metal stairs was a confirmation of what he already knew. He was a thirty-four-year-old man running from who he was. Too chicken to admit he liked men. Closeted for too many years to have any clue on how to escape the denial he’d been trapped in his entire life.

He wanted out. Thought he could do it tonight.

What a fucking joke.

Only he wasn’t laughing. Not even a little.

A bright ray of light sliced through the crack between the drapes and managed to hit Carter right in the eyes when he blinked them open. His world turned white and he groaned, rolling away as he flung his arm over his face to block the sunlight.

The damn sun had been hidden behind snow clouds for days, and it had to pick the one day he didn’t get the damn drapes closed right to appear. What a crappy way to wake up, but it wasn’t the real reason for his foul mood.

Last night had ended in a shit-bomb of failure that had stunk worse than any of his first endeavors into the male escort business. Even now, his mind was still trying to pinpoint where he’d gone wrong.

The evening had been a slow dance to what had been setting up to be a spectacular finish until his client had rushed from the room, shame drenching him from head to toe. What the hell? He’d handled plenty of closet cases before. But none of them had ever been as deeply troubled as the strong, stoic ex-soldier. He couldn’t even guess at what had happened in the man’s past to have him running so hard from himself.

Shoving the blankets aside, he rolled out of bed and stalked to his closet. He didn’t mess up like that. After ten years in the business, he was an expert on giving every client what he wanted.

But he’d misread something last night that’d caused Rock to flee in a panic.

A glance at the time showed it was almost ten. Good. The gym would be half-empty, filled mostly with stay-at-home moms. If he hurried, he could be out of there before the lunch rush ambushed the place.

He grabbed a banana and a small carton of O.J. before heading into the bitter cold. The first inhale chilled his lungs but didn’t freeze them. That was an improvement over the previous month.

The gym was less than a mile from the condo complex. The short drive kept his mind from wandering back to the previous night, but there was little he could do to keep his thoughts at bay once he stepped onto the treadmill and started his daily five-mile run.

It was a routine he kept almost religiously. His body was his income. The better he looked, the more he made. Plain and simple. It was even more important since he’d hit his thirties. He wasn’t the studly young thing he used to be. There were dozens of punk kids who’d like to poach his client list. That wasn’t happening until he was ready for it.

Which was coming fast. Something he was desperately ready for and equally stressing over. He had four months left on his second five-year contract with the agency. It was time to get out.

Which meant sticking through whatever crap they dished out and keeping his nose clean until then. He hoped Rock didn’t call and complain about last night. Not that he’d done anything wrong. Hell, the man had given him a three-hundred-dollar tip for scaring him off. Yet another
what the fuck
.

Carter increased his speed, turned up the volume of his music and tried to outrun his thoughts. It rarely worked. He still tried.

Five miles and what seemed like second later, his thighs were burning and sweat covered his skin, making his T-shirt cling to his chest. He punched the button to decrease the speed, settling into a cool-down pace as he caught his breath. A bead of perspiration dripped from his brow to splat on the spinning mat and he grabbed his towel to wipe his face. The solid thump of
the club music pounding in his ears matched his heart rate, yet he didn’t feel like dancing.

A tall, fit brunette strolled past the bank of treadmills, her gaze trailing appreciatively over Carter as she passed. If he gave even a slight show of acknowledgment, she’d be chatting him up and extending an invitation for coffee or a protein drink from the little café attached to the gym. He easily dodged eye contact and focused on the treadmill controls until the belt slowed to a walk.

There was part of him that was glad he’d never thrown off the gaydar signals. At least the majority of the hetero population had never picked up on any. There were a number of gay men who had no problem though. Such as the overmuscled dude across the room who couldn’t keep his gaze from wandering Carter’s way. It would only take one direct, long stare and they could be hooking up for a quickie if he were even slightly interested.

He wasn’t.

He’d had enough quickies to satisfy him for the rest of his life.

A woman paused in front of his machine and he tried to ignore her by changing the music on his digital player. Damn it, he should’ve picked a treadmill that faced the windows instead of the weight area. Finally, he was forced to look up.

The blonde gave a small wave, backed by a bright smile and warm green eyes. Tank dampened with sweat from her workout, the infinity link choker shone bright and out of place around her neck. “Hey, Carter.” Her greeting was muffled behind his music, but he read her lips just fine.

He tugged his earbuds out and let his smile show. “Hi, Cali.” He stopped the machine and stepped off. It’d been awhile since he’d talked to his condo neighbor who lived a few doors down from him in the same building unit. “How’s it going?”

“Good.” She pushed back a piece of hair that’d fallen out of the stubby ponytail at her nap. “I’m ready for summer.”

“Aren’t we all?”

“Yeah, probably,” she agreed with a nod. “I think I’m getting too old for all of this snow.” He never would’ve guessed she was fourteen years his senior. The effort she made to keep herself healthy and fit paid off.

“Well, spring’s almost here.” He glanced out the big windows, displaying the bright sunlight in a promise that reflected off the snow that covered the ground and bushes. “Maybe.”

Her laugh was light and full. “Right. After last year’s late storm, I’m not holding my breath.”

“Good point.” He wiped his towel over his face and across the back of his neck. “How are things with Jake?” Her boyfriend had moved in late last fall and with the onset of winter, the condo gossip line slowed until summer rolled around and everyone caught back up at the pool or in the enclosed courtyard at the center of their building.

“Good.” Her green eyes flashed with happiness. “It took some adjusting, but it’s good.”

“And your kids?” Both of her children were in college. Or maybe one was done now. He couldn’t remember.

“I think Steph’s goal in life is to turn my hair gray.” She chuckled and rolled her eyes. “And Logan’s settling into his job. He doesn’t enjoy being at the bottom of the food chain though.”

Carter laughed. “No doubt. We’ve all been there.”

“Right?” She took a drink from her water bottle. “So how’s your business going?”

“Good. I might make a change though.” Which was true. The fact that everyone thought
he was a self-employed software consultant didn’t even nick his conscience.

“Really?” Her brows shot up. “To what?”

He stared at the floor, kicking himself for saying anything. He cleared his throat and plowed on. Maybe saying it to someone would make it more viable in his own mind. “I was thinking of seeing if I could make a go of it with my photography.”

Cali’s smile grew wide. “That’s a great idea. Your photos are beautiful.”

He shifted his weight and ducked his head. He was used to people calling his body beautiful, but it tripped all of his insecurities when someone said that about his art. “Thanks.”

“Let me know if I can do anything to help. Oh.” She snapped her fingers and pointed at him. “Are you looking for jobs, like parties and stuff, or are you going to focus on the artsy stuff?”

“Honestly, I haven’t thought that far ahead.” It was a pipe dream really.

“Well, I might have a job for you this summer.”

“Okay,” he agreed, not believing it would really happen.

“You’ll have to get a rate sheet out so we can pass it around the complex.” She was charging headlong into the idea at a speed that had Carter’s stomach plummeting. “And I bet Evan has lots of contacts with his event planning business.”

“Cali,” he interrupted her. “Slow down. It’s only an idea.”

She squeezed her eyes closed. “Sorry. I guess I got a bit excited for you.”

There was no way he couldn’t chuckle at her eagerness to help. Maybe it was the mother in her that always had her jumping in whenever someone needed it. Or maybe it was just her good heart that made that happen.

“Don’t worry about it.” He started to move toward the weight machines. “I appreciate the support.”

“No problem,” she said with a smile. “It was good seeing you.”

“You too.”

With a backward wave, she headed toward the locker room, and he blew out a long breath of relief. There were times when he was positive they were all going to find out about his duplicity. Keeping up the fake job was trying at times, but he refused to give up the normalcy he’d found and the friendships he’d developed with the other condo residents. It was a small slice of ordinary that balanced his life.

He’d never been ashamed of what he did for a living. But most people weren’t so accepting, even if they were into whips and chains.

He snorted at the thought as he eyed the open equipment. He’d only recently put together the six degrees of separation that an oddly high number of people from their condo unit had with the BDSM club The Den. Including sweet Cali and her boyfriend Jake.

The pieces had all fallen together after Tyler had left the escort agency and started working and basically living at the club with one of the owners. Thankfully, the man had never gone into detail with anyone on how they knew each other.

Carter had been going to The Den with a client once a month for over a year. The whole submission thing wasn’t really his kink, but the man paid well and extra for him to play the part. He was pretty good at it, if he did say so himself.

He settled on the lats machine, set the weight, gripped the bar over his head and started his routine. The burn increased through his muscles when he started the second set. His goal was always strength and maintenance, not building bulk. It was his experience that the majority of men preferred toned and cut over mass.

And that had his thoughts circling right back to Rock. He’d been looking forward to seeing his body. It wasn’t often that he got to have sex with a man as fit and handsome as Rock. But then, Rock had been younger than his regular clients. His hourly rate usually narrowed his clients down to middle age and older, wealthy men who could afford to satisfy their desires in private.

This is stupid
. He gave his head a hard shake before moving to the butterfly machine. It was likely he’d never see Rock again. There was zero point in overanalyzing the entire situation. The man had issues that had nothing to do with Carter.

It didn’t matter how many times he told himself that. It didn’t stop him from wishing he could’ve helped him. Somehow, he felt like he’d let Rock down. The tip he’d tossed on the table before he’d fled had soured Carter’s mouth. He wouldn’t think of why.

No, he wouldn’t think about it, at all. Period. He’d done everything he could and he’d learned long ago to let the crap go or he’d end up buried beneath all of the shit called life. And he refused to let that happen.

He’d scrambled too long and hard to ever get buried again.