The Telling (15 page)

Jay expertly stroked while Michael pumped his hips, working himself into the tight grasp, matching his movements and rhythm with his partner’s.
Far too soon he felt his balls drawing up, tingling at the base. He increased his pace, reaching, reaching, grasping…

“Ahhh!” Head thrown back, eyes closed tightly, he let go, filling Jay’s hand with the evidence of his passion. And though he
may have lacked experience, Jay’s own orgasm, following a moment later, meant he’d done something right.

He opened his eyes and watched the sheer joy of the moment etched on his Jay’s face.

Eyes closed, lips parted, Jay moaned and panted, then tensed in release. “Miiiiiccchhhaaaaaaeel!” Warmth filled Michael’s
clenched fist, and he milked Jay’s cock with steady strokes.

They collapsed against each other. Once more mouth met mouth. This time the kiss was slow and unhurried, full of sated bliss. Michael found his discarded
shirt and wiped them both down before tossing it back to the floor.

“Stay the night?” he asked.

Chapter Eleven

Bright sunlight streaming through the bedroom window announced the arrival of morning and, for the first time in recent memory, Michael woke feeling fully
rested. He’d actually slept through the night. A vague memory of dreams persisted, but they dissipated like smoke through a closing fist. And he
hadn’t woken up screaming.

He yawned and stretched, then jumped back in terror when his arm brushed against something that shouldn’t have been there. Heart pounding, covers
drawn up to his chin, he stared in shock at the black hair lying on the white pillow case next to him. Heavy breathing, just shy of a snore, rumbled from
the sleeping form. Michael let out a relieved sigh, barely suppressing a laugh at his noisy bed partner.

Jay lay sprawled on his stomach, well-muscled back, arms, and broad shoulders on glorious display.

Last night had ended in the bedroom where, head comfortably cradled on a lightly furred chest, Michael had fallen asleep to the sound of a steady
heartbeat. His guest’s presence must have held his nightmares at bay, for the phantom soldiers hadn’t put in an appearance all night.
He raked his gaze over the warm honey of his new lover’s skin, and gently lifted the edge of the sheet so he wouldn’t be caught ogling.

Jay’s broad shoulders tapered down to a narrow waist, and his ass was just as firm and muscled as the rest of him. Although he sported a good
deal of dark body hair, the firm round cheeks hiding under the sheets were virtually fur-free. With a sigh Michael lowered the cover, smoothing it down
while continuing to admire the view.

He wished his own personal Texan would roll over so he could see that handsome face, but didn’t want to wake him. So he sat quietly, watching the
steady rise and fall of Jay’s back. Damn, but he couldn’t help smiling. He savored the moment for as long as he could before a full
bladder forced him to leave the bed and the warm body lying there. He tiptoed from the room and eased the door closed.

After relieving himself and washing up, he found a pair of reasonably clean sweatpants and a T-shirt to wear. He started the coffee pot and rummaged in the
refrigerator, looking for something suitable to serve for breakfast. The coffee had finished brewing and he was removing sautéed peppers and onions from a
skillet when a gentle tapping interrupted him. Who could possibly be here at this hour? Only family had keys to the bookstore below. With a quick glance to
the closed bedroom door, Michael hurried to let his visitor in. Maybe Mom wanted him to go to Sunday school with her. He’d politely decline and
she’d leave, no fuss, no muss, none the wiser.

However, it wasn’t an easy-going, privacy-respecting Mom that he found outside his door, but a meddlesome Angie with absolutely no qualms about
invading personal space until her curiosity was satisfied and he had no secrets left.

“What are you doing here?” Michael asked.

His sister folded her arms across her chest and scowled.

“Sorry, that didn’t come out right. Let’s try again. Good morning, Angie.”

A saccharinely sweet smile plastered itself to her face. “Hello, brother dear. Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to invite me
in?”

Invite her in? His eyes darted to the closed bedroom door. Maybe Jay would sleep a while longer. If he invited her in, let her solve her curiosity, maybe
she’d leave. Soon. He stood aside and let her in. Sooner or later they’d have to talk, but at the moment ‘later’
got his vote.

“Hmmm… You can tell Jay’s been here,” she observed as she wandered through his new apartment.

The blood froze in Michael’s veins. “What did you say?” Oh shit! Soda cans and paper plates lay on the coffee
table—a dead giveaway that he’d had a visitor the night before.

Oblivious to his shock, Angie continued to scrutinize the apartment’s walls with a critical eye. “Jay did such a great job with the
painting, don’t you think?” Finally noticing Michael’s pained expression, she cocked her head and pinned him with a
questioning look. “You did know that he helped Mom fix up this place, right?”

“Oh, that! Yeah, she told me,” he lied. It was then that her words sank in. “You mean you’ve never been up here
before?”
Please don’t ask to see the bedroom, please don’t ask to see the bedroom.

“Well, Grandpa kinda told me not to ‘drive you insane by invading your privacy.’ But I think I’ve behaved myself
long enough, and now it’s time to come hang out with my bro.”

Yeah, but today? Why today?

Michael stepped between her and the coffee table, effectively blocking her view. When she turned to gaze out the window, two paper plates disappeared under
the couch cushions. The soda cans found a new home under a throw pillow.

Too interested in the apartment to notice Michael’s impromptu housekeeping, Angie continued, “And in answer to your question, no, I
haven’t been up here since they finished the place. I was too busy studying. But I helped in the beginning. I chose the carpet and paint. You can
thank me later for my exquisite taste.”

The mention of carpet drew his eyes downward to where a rumpled black T-shirt lay. Why hadn’t he taken it, too, when he’d picked up his
own?

His sister continued her inspection, pausing to thumb through his CDs, moving ever closer to the bedroom door while he kicked the shirt under the couch.

He watched in horror as she moved closer and closer to the last place he wanted her to be. Jay snored. Surely she’d hear and ask questions. How
could he get her away from that door? “I made coffee, want some?”

The diversion worked. “Oh… coffee! I could sure use a cup.” Michael blew out the breath he’d been holding, leading
her over to the bar that divided the kitchen from the living area. He sat on a stool facing the bedroom, strategically placing her back the door.

With feigned nonchalance he glanced at the clock. “My, my, would you look at the time? Don’t you have to get to church? You
wouldn’t want to be late for Sunday school.”

“Michael Ritter,” Angie snapped. “If I didn’t know better I’d think you didn’t want me
here.”

“No, it’s not that,” he stammered, “I just don’t want you to be late.”

Angie grinned. “I’m blowing off Sunday school and I’ve got plenty of time before preaching. Say,” she added
brightly, “why don’t you come with me?”

The blood drained from his face. Angie let him off the hook before he had to concoct an excuse. He really wasn’t good at excuses. “Oh,
that’s right. Looks like you were in the middle of making breakfast. Well, don’t let me stop you.” She took a sip of coffee
and scrunched her face in distaste. “Please don’t tell me this is decaf.”

“Okay,” Michael agreed, “I won’t tell you.”

She waved her cup at him and whined, “But it’s decaf! How could you? Mom raised you better than that.”

Michael reminded her, “Caffeine is bad for my ‘condition.’” ‘Condition’ was said with the same
amount of affection Angie used for ‘decaf.’ Silently he wished she’d be so repulsed that she’d go before her
curiosity got the better of her and she started snooping.

She took another sip, wrinkled her nose and sighed. “Sorry, kiddo, I forgot. If it’s good enough for you, it’s good enough
for me.”

Okay, so that didn’t work. What other reasons could he concoct to get her out of there? “So, what brings you here so early?”

“What? Since when do I need an excuse to come see my favorite brother?”

“I’m your only brother, Ang,” he reminded her.

“So you are.”

This was far from the first time they’d had this conversation, and he knew from experience that it meant she was up to something, something he
probably wasn’t going to like. “Okay, Angie, out with it,” he urged, resigning himself to his fate.

“You don’t trust me!” she exclaimed in mock indignation, giving him her best innocent look. Unfortunately, her performance
fell short of innocence, only managing to achieve not-yet-found-guilty-by-a-jury-of-her-peers.

Not about to be taken in by her antics, Michael raised a skeptical eyebrow and attempted a death glare. “Angie… “

“Oh, all right! I wanted to talk to you about Jay,” she finally admitted.

Michael’s heart somersaulted.
She couldn’t know, she couldn’t possibly know.
“What about him?”
Michael croaked, fighting the urge to push her out the door and be done with it.

“I wanted to ask how you feel about him.”

Oh my God, she knows, she knows.
Taking a deep, cleansing breath, Michael attempted rational thought. This was Angie. If she knew she wouldn’t be coy, she’d come right
out and speak her mind. Since getting rid of her wasn’t an option, he switched tactics and instead willed Jay to remain asleep and safely inside
the bedroom until she left.

“I know you don’t do anything without a reason,” he retorted, “so I want to know why you’re
asking.” He leaned back on the stool, stubbornly crossing his arms across his chest.

Angie sighed. Michael recognized that sigh. It usually occurred before something he didn’t want to hear. Sighs like that were often followed by
things like, “I lost your favorite CD”, “I put a huge dent in your car,” or, “Sorry, but your cat just
died.”

Today it heralded, “Well, let’s just say that I believe that he likes you. A lot. I care about both of you and don’t want to
see anyone get hurt.” Okay, that wasn’t too bad.

Now, how to answer without giving too much away? “I’ll admit we’ve hit it off pretty well since we met.”
Yeah, that’s an understatement. C
ertain images from the previous night replayed in Michael’s head.

“Yeah, well I don’t mean ‘friend’ like, I mean ‘like’ like.”

Michael swallowed hard in a futile attempt to dislodge a brick from his throat. “What you talking about, Angie?” He had a bad feeling
about this, a really bad feeling.

“Well, for one thing, he’s been talking about you one hell of a lot lately.”

He had?
Michael darted a gaze toward the bedroom door, his mind seeing the naked man sprawled across the bed. He shook his head to clear those thoughts before they
triggered a tell-tale physical response. Taking a sip of coffee, he tried to appear casual.
Five more minutes. Five more minutes and you’ve got to get her out of here
.
“That doesn’t mean
anything,” he managed to say. “Mom talks about him all the time, but it doesn’t mean a damn thing.”

His sister gave him an indulgent smile, setting her cup down and dropping another verbal bomb. “Yeah, well he doesn’t keep a picture of
Mom hidden in his dresser drawer.”

“He what!?” Angie loved to surprise him, but she’d outdone herself this time. Jay’s comment, “
I keep pictures of the ones I love…”
flashed through his mind.

Grinning wildly now, obviously pleased that she’d scored a direct hit—though she didn’t know the half of it—Angie
pressed on, “Yeah, he saw that picture of you, the one that was taken when you were inducted in the army. The official uniform one.”

“Yeah, so?”
He keeps a picture of me?

His sister watched him like he’d once seen his grandfather’s barn cat watch a field mouse—right before pouncing.
“Jay was just being Jay when he first saw it. He didn’t know I had a brother at the time and thought that picture was of my boyfriend.
So he made some catty remarks about how hot you were.”

Michael blushed, turning away. Jay thought he was hot? Unfortunately, judging by her knowing smirk, Angie noticed. And it was clear she intended tell the
story as slowly as possible. He wanted to shake her and yell, “Just spit it out, already!”

Unaware of how close she was to a good shaking, she fed him just enough information to whet his appetite. “He was obsessed by that picture,
especially when he found out you were my brother. So, I kinda tested him.”

If Michael had hackles they would have risen. He’d endured some of Angie’s tests himself on occasion. They usually didn’t end
well for him. “Tested him how?” It was all he could do to keep his voice calm.

“Well, I left the picture out, just to see what would happen.”

Pretending it didn’t matter, he yawned and asked, “What did he do?”

She just grinned and sipped her coffee. It was so quiet that Michael could hear the clock ticking on the wall and the muted thrum of Sunday morning traffic
outside.
Wait, was that a noise from the bedroom?
Holding his breath, Michael listened, finally exhaling, relieved, when an engine rumbled to life
down the street. A car door slamming. Just a car. Forcing himself to relax, he took a healthy mouthful of coffee and unwittingly played into her hands.

With a wicked grin she said, “Let’s just say I had to get myself a new picture.”

Michael sprayed the countertop with hot coffee, body convulsing in choking coughs. The demonic, evil being that had possessed his sister thumped his back a
little harder than necessary.

“He stole your picture?” he asked when he’d recovered enough to breathe again.

Angie laughed, apparently enjoying her little game. “Yep. I never saw it again until about two months before you came home. I wanted to borrow a
pair of thick socks, and I knew he wouldn’t mind so… “