The Broken Triangle (7 page)

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Authors: Jane Davitt,Alexa Snow

Tags: #LGBT, #Contemporary

BOOK: The Broken Triangle
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“That had to—”

“If you say
suck
…”

Laughing, Vin raised his hands. “I promise I won’t make any puns. Look, I don’t have a clue what most of this on the menu is. Help me out?”

Vin saw surprise in Riley’s eyes, but he nodded readily enough. “Sure. Break it down, and most places do pretty much the same thing. Should we start with an appetizer? Soup or salad? How about the entrée? Meat, fish, vegetarian?”

“Salad, and I’d love to see what their vegetarian options are. I do eat meat and fish when I’m out, but mostly because the options are so limited otherwise.”

“It sounds plain, but their gourmet mac and cheese is one of the things they’re known for, and there’s a black-bean chili if you like to spice it up.” Riley leaned over and pointed at it on the menu.

Vin read the description. He made chili a lot, stirring up a huge batch and freezing it in portions, but did he ever put a polenta cake at the bottom of the bowl and work in sweet-potato chips? No.

The waiter appeared with their drinks, a pleasant smile on his face. “Are you ready to order, or would you like some more time?”

Riley exchanged an inquiring glance with Vin, then answered for both of them. “We’re ready.”

Vin took a sip of his water, the bubbles bursting on his tongue, bright and cold, the slice of lime in it bobbing against his lips. He was ready to order but less than confident about what would follow the meal. Riley wouldn’t rush him, but Vin wanted to give Riley more than anyone ever had, not less.

He pushed aside his misgivings.
“Live for the moment,”
Patrick had told him once. Most of Patrick’s advice was suspect, but Vin could see the merits of that statement.

The food was good, but with Riley on the other side of the table, Vin had a hard time focusing on it. It was too easy to get caught up in watching the way the tines of the fork slid between Riley’s parted lips, the way Riley’s tongue occasionally made a brief appearance, and the way Riley’s throat moved when he swallowed. Vin knew there were times when he stared, but he was confident Riley didn’t mind, because their gazes met repeatedly during the meal, and finally Riley reached across and held his hand.

“Let’s get out of here,” Riley said, and Vin nodded.

The waiter handed Riley the bill without more than a flicker of a glance at Vin. That stung, but Vin’s eyesight was sharp, and he caught a glimpse of the staggering total. One meal had cost as much as his mom would spend feeding the family for the week. It’d been delicious, but was it worth it?

“Remember we were celebrating,” Riley murmured in his ear as they left.

“Yeah.” Belatedly Vin asked, “What was the bonus for? What do you do? You said you worked for your dad, and he was in construction?”

“You make it sound as if he’s a bricklayer,” Riley teased, throwing his arm around Vin’s shoulders for a hug. “What I did was put together a team for a job that got the renovation of the city museum done on time and under budget. I think it kept the museum director from being fired,” he added reflectively. “It might not sound like much, but—”

“It does.” Vin hadn’t been to the museum since a field trip in eighth grade, but he’d followed the saga of the renovation in the local paper. Two contractors had failed to meet deadlines and been replaced, and the architect had threatened to sue the city, though Vin wasn’t sure what that was all about. If Riley’s efforts had helped to resolve the money drain, Vin could see why people would be grateful. “They needed a specialist in mosaics for the wall showing the history of the city, didn’t they?”

“No-last-name Mario? He was a nightmare to handle, but a genius. Yeah, he’s one of the people I got to come on board. He has this reputation for being difficult, and he lives up to it, but if you stroke his ego the right way, he’s okay.”

“Was that all you stroked?” Vin was careful to make it a joke. Truthfully, he hated the idea of Riley getting involved with anyone in the name of work, but he didn’t want to sound jealous.

Riley hooted with laughter. “God, yes! He’s ancient. Sixty, sixty-five.” They’d been walking along the sidewalk as they chatted, heading toward the place where Vin had left his van. Riley came to a halt at a crosswalk. “My car’s down here. If I give you directions, do you want to follow me over to my place? There’s a guest parking lot around the side of the apartment building. I’ll meet you there, because otherwise you won’t be able to get in. The security’s insane. You’d think the Queen of freaking England lived there.”

Vin thought it through. If he asked to go in Riley’s car and they left his van, Riley would have to give him a ride back sooner or later. Later, with any luck, but making things more complicated was bad. “Sure,” he decided. “I’ll follow you. It’s like a test.”

“A test?” Riley sounded amused.

“Caravanning. You know, some people are easy to follow, and other people gun it through the yellow lights and leave you to run the red or be abandoned.” Vin tilted his head to the left and looked at Riley thoughtfully. “I think you’re easy.”

“As long as you mean it as a compliment,” Riley said and leaned in for a quick kiss before relaying the directions and going off to get his car.

“You weren’t kidding,” Vin said ten minutes later as they went in through the building’s side entrance.

“About the security? Yeah. It’s a nice place, though. Not as old-money as where my parents live, more new and shiny, but I like it. And the people who live above me are this old couple, so quiet it’s like the apartment is empty.” Riley pushed the elevator button and took hold of Vin’s tie to pull him closer. “You look nice, by the way. In case I didn’t mention it.”

“You did,” Vin reassured him. “But I like hearing it again. It’s not too little kid dressing up in his dad’s clothes?”

Riley made a face. “No, on so many levels.”

“I guess that did come out sounding creepy.” He would have said more, but once they were inside the elevator, Riley kissed him, the first kiss they’d shared in private all evening. The elevator paused at the next floor, the doors sliding open to reveal an empty hallway, but Vin was lost in the gentle push of Riley’s lips against him, the kiss endearingly clumsy at first, their mouths not quite lining up.

The doors closed, and Vin drew back. “Are we moving again?”

“Maybe. Don’t care.” Riley shook his head. “No, I do care. The elevator’s got security cameras in it.”

“It does? Shit.” They’d only been kissing, but Vin was hot with embarrassment at the idea of some security guard snickering over them.

“It matters because it means I can’t suck you off. Or find out how your mouth feels on me, and believe me, I’ve given it a lot of thought.”

“I don’t…” Vin’s voice trailed off as Riley pushed buttons to get them moving up again. What could he say? He’d thought about it too.

His first moments inside Riley’s apartment, instead of being spent with his mouth on Riley’s dick, were spent with his mouth hanging open as he wandered around in a daze. White carpeting? Who did that? Of course, it wasn’t like Riley had chosen it. He was kind of afraid to ask.

“And the kitchen.” Riley gestured into it. “Do you want a beer? Oh jeez, sorry, no, of course you don’t. Glass of water?”

“I’m good.” Vin took in the shining wood cabinets, the cream-colored tile floor, and the stainless steel appliances. The place was like an advertisement for rich-people housing. “Let me guess. There’s a hot tub in the bathroom.”

“No, just one of those jet tubs. Big enough for two, though.” Riley sounded puzzled by the question.

Vin ran his finger over a quartz countertop, the slick, smooth surface cool under his fingertips, free of any stickiness or crumbs. It shone with a dull luster, a blend of colors that called to mind a latte, a rich brown with swirls that picked up the shade of the floor tiles. The room—hell, probably the whole place—had been decorated as a single project, not pieced together over the years. His nose felt ticklish, as if he were coming down with something, but he thought it was the air freshener Riley used. He didn’t recognize the scent, but it was sweet and floral.

“Your home is like something in a magazine. How do you keep it looking like this?”

“I don’t. The cleaner does.” Riley leaned against the counter and folded his arms across his chest, his eyebrows lifting as he took in Vin’s involuntary grimace. “Wait, am I oppressing the huddled masses or something by having someone in to keep it looking good when I don’t have the time myself? Donna’s been my mom’s cleaner since I was twelve. She’s great. Single mom, three kids—and yes, I know their names—and she says I’m one of her best clients because I pick up after myself. Mostly.”

“I’m sorry.” Vin gestured at the apartment, trying to convey what he felt with a wave. “You’ve seen my place. You know how differently we live.”

“I’m not a freaking millionaire,” Riley said, hurt sharpening his voice. “You could afford a place like this if you had a decent job. It’s an apartment, not a house, after all, and the location’s up-and-coming, not totally gentrified. It’s a great investment, though; this area’s ripe for development.”

He might as well have been speaking Swahili.

“Right,” he said, not wanting to seem like a total idiot. “Yeah, I know. It’s kind of a surprise. I wasn’t expecting this.”

“I could show you something you’ll like,” Riley said. “How do you feel about bedrooms?”

“I like bedrooms,” Vin said and followed Riley down the hallway to a bedroom with a huge bed covered by a down comforter.

“Bathroom’s through there,” Riley said, pointing. “In case you need it. There’s another one off the living room, but it’s nice to have this one so close by.”

Vin found himself wondering how many men Riley had brought here. It wasn’t a good thing to think about, because it made him self-conscious. There had to be a hundred eligible guys who were better for Riley than he was—guys who didn’t get wide-eyed over a tour of his apartment, for one.

“I’m fine for now.”

“Yeah?” Riley scratched his nose, his color rising. “Will it kill the mood if I admit I’m nervous? I’ve usually been drunk when I’ve done this. Not falling-over, puking-my-guts-up drunk, but—” He stopped, took a deep breath, and scratched his nose again, hard enough to redden the skin. “Listen to me babble. It’s always been quick and impersonal before this. Not that there were all that many times, but doing it in the club, or back at their place, both of us tanked up, well, it took the edge off. Now I’m in my own place, with you, and it’s different. It matters. And I’m freaking out on the inside in case the way I can’t shut up isn’t enough of a clue.”

“We don’t have to do anything but talk.” It was crazy how happy it made him to know he was the first man Riley had brought back here. “Get to know each other better.”

“But we do know each other,” Riley said. “That’s the point. I know who you are, and I’ve known you for years. You can’t bullshit me you’re someone you’re not, because I know the truth. Not that you would. You never pulled that kind of crap. In school, everyone put up this wall, all glitz and shine, and hid behind it, but you were out in the open, wearing as much black as they’d let you get away with. You were honest. I can trust you. And if you think I want to talk more than I want to have sex, sorry to disappoint you, but I’m all talked out.”

That left Vin spinning theories and scenarios to account for the value Riley placed on being honest and trustworthy. They were good qualities, sure, but guys their age were usually more interested in less sterling attributes.

According to Patrick, big dicks and staying power were high on the list.

Questions would have to wait. Riley had talked himself back into being confident and assured, and Vin had no difficulty interpreting the gleam in his eyes. Time to push his self-doubt aside and get with the program. It wasn’t that hard to do. He’d enjoyed the night before, and this would be so much better.

Silence falling, they undressed, their gazes locked, the heat building with every piece of clothing that hit the floor. Vin palmed his cock, the familiarity of his hand on it reassuring him, and took a step forward, moving his hand to wrap it around Riley’s erection, comparing the subtle differences in thickness and feel.

Riley tilted his head and bit at Vin’s neck, the scrape of his teeth making Vin shudder in reaction. “Yeah. Like that. You’re so fucking hot.”

Vin was going to come soon, but he’d be ready to go again almost right away. “You’re the one who’s hot. You’re amazing. Would you lie down so I can look at you?”

“As long as you’re planning on doing something more than just looking sooner or later.” Riley tugged down the covers and lay on the bed, displaying himself for Vin to drink in.

Riley had wide shoulders with a dusting of freckles across them, a flat stomach with a hint of a six-pack, and a narrow waist. His pubic hair was a blond cloud that made Vin’s fingers itch to stroke it to find out if it was as soft as it looked. He groaned when Vin got on the bed, his cock jerking as if eager for a caress.

“Shh,” Vin said. “I’ll get there.”

He leaned in and kissed Riley’s hip—not his cock, not yet—before sliding his hand down along Riley’s inner thigh. Riley trembled. “Touch me.”

“I am touching you,” Vin said, unfairly. He knew Riley didn’t mean being touched on the knee or having the arch of his foot stroked, but Vin needed to learn Riley’s body. He needed to remind himself, as Riley had, that they did know each other.

He’d watched porn, jerked off, fantasized, but it’d all been so two-dimensional compared to the reality. Touching himself didn’t come close to the thrill of dragging his hand over Riley’s thigh and feeling the muscles flex, the strength under the smooth skin. And the images fucking so mechanically on his computer screen, muttering scripted words of encouragement, didn’t carry the smell of an aroused man to him with every breath. Riley’s scent, unique, so intimate shared this way, made Vin want to go to the source. He ran his tongue over the crease of skin at the top of the thigh he caressed, and nuzzled into that pale fuzz of hair.

The quick rise and fall of Riley’s chest was as eloquent as any loud cries for more.

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