Chapter 18
Grumpy in the Streets, Vocal in the Sheets
JAMES
The car is quiet except for Gavin's snoring in the backseat. Caleb drives, one hand on the wheel, the other finding mine in the darkness. The fundraiser's done, but Caleb's father's voice still rings in my ears, that surprise confrontation playing on repeat. The whole conversation is playing back.
"You need to understand your place in this situation, Mr. Hunter." His smile is all teeth and never reaches his eyes as he corners me by the bar. "We've looked into your background thoroughly."
"My background?" It is hard to keep my voice level as heat rises up my neck.
"Foster care. Scholarships. Working your way through university." He said it like I had some communicable disease. "Commendable, of course, but hardly the connections my son needs for his future. Caleb comes from a certain world—"
"A world that uses him as a political prop?" The words slipped out before I could stop them.
His smile tightened. "My son understands family duty. This..." he gestured vaguely in my direction, "phase with you will pass. Eventually, he'll return to dating someone appropriate."
"Someone like Christopher Montgomery?"
The color drains from his face in an instant before blood rushes back in a crimson wave of fury and embarrassment. His jaw clenches tight, and for a moment, I think he might actually swing at me right here in front of all his wealthy donors and political allies.
"You have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," he hisses, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper that somehow carries more menace than if he'd shouted.
His perfectly manicured fingers grip his whiskey tumbler so hard I'm surprised the crystal doesn't shatter.
"You're some nobody from nowhere making wild accusations. "
But I see it in his eyes, the panic. The recognition that I know exactly what happened four years ago, and, more importantly, how he handled it. How he chose his political career over protecting his own son.
"Yeah, I know about that predator and how you all not only covered it up but made your son out to be the bad guy.
" I move close and lower my voice. "What kind of fucking parent are you?
I may have grown up in foster care, but even I know that is fucked up.
Now I'm going back to your son. He should have someone here tonight who actually cares about him. "
I left him standing there, speechless.
Now I'm staring out the car window, lost in thought, until Gavin stirs in the backseat with a loud yawn, then he immediately jumps into telling me about his night.
"—and then this lady with a peacock feather in her hair kept talking about her rescue chinchillas for like twenty minutes," he says, apparently fully awake now and launching into stories about the night.
Caleb's warm hand finds mine in the darkness. Looking over to see him watching me, worry clear in his eyes.
"You okay?" he mouths.
Nodding, I squeeze his hand. Whatever his father thinks, I'm not going anywhere.
Caleb nods at me, then looks back. "Poor Gavin, trapped by rodent enthusiasts while we were raising actual money."
"Hey, I learned a lot about exotic pet regulation!" Gavin says, laughing. "You two seem cozy up there. Something happen at this fancy shindig I should know about?"
Caleb's fingers tighten around mine. "Just... clarified some things."
"About time," Gavin says as we pull into the frat house driveway. He glances between us with a smirk. "So... you guys heading straight to bed, huh?"
Caleb and I exchange a look. The heat creeping up my neck has fuck-all to do with embarrassment and everything to do with getting him alone.
"Don't answer that," Gavin laughs, holding up his hands. "I'm wishing you both amazing, earth-shattering, mind-blowing man sex. Use protection. Stay hydrated. Don't break any furniture."
Caleb turns crimson while I sputter.
"And I'll be wearing noise-cancelling headphones tonight," Gavin calls after us as we practically sprint toward the door, his booming laughter following us inside.
We make it to the staircase before Caleb grabs my tie and pulls me into a searing kiss that has my back hitting the wall. His mouth is hot and demanding against mine, and I can feel every point where our bodies connect.
"Your room," he breathes against my lips. "Now."
"Impatient." Pulling back enough to look at him. His eyes are dark with want, his pupils are so dilated the brown is barely visible.
"You have no idea," he growls, tugging me toward the stairs. "I've been thinking about this since that first night when you turned up your nose at me and you were wearing those stupid blue light glasses."
Stopping mid-step. "My glasses? Really?"
He looks embarrassed for a split second before recovering. "Glasses, computer skills, the whole grumpy hot nerd aesthetic. Can we file the specifics of my attraction later and get to your room?"
We stumble up the stairs, barely breaking contact. My hands constantly return to his waist, his shoulders, and the soft hair at the nape of his neck. I fumble with my keys at my door, Caleb pressed against my back, his lips on my neck, making it nearly impossible to focus.
"I'd make a joke about you not being able to find the right hole," he whispers against my ear, "but I'm hoping that won't be a problem later."
The key finally slides in after fumbling at his words. "Trust me, finding the right spot won't be an issue."
The moment we're inside, I kick the door shut and spin him around, pressing him against it. His pupils are blown wide, lips already swollen from our kisses.
"The way you stood up for me tonight," he says, hands working at my tie. "With my brothers... I've never had anyone do that before."
Pressing my forehead to his. Someone should've been doing this for him all along. "Get used to it."
His breath hitches as my hands slide beneath his suit jacket, pushing it off his shoulders. "James..."
"Wait." Though it kills me to pause, I lean back. "We should talk first."
Caleb groans. "Now? Really?"
"Just the basics." His fingers work my shirt buttons open, making focus next to impossible. "What position do you prefer?"
A slow, wicked smile grows across his face. "I'm such a bottom."
Something hot and possessive uncurls low in my body. "Perfect. I prefer to top."
"Thank god," he breathes. "Are you negative?"
"Yes, and on Prep. You?"
"Same." His fingers trace the exposed skin of my chest. "Do you have lube and condoms?"
I nod toward my nightstand. "Top drawer."
"Please, can we fuck now?" The words tumble out of him in a rush. "I've wanted to do this for weeks, but didn't know how to say it."
Pausing, I search his face. "Yeah? I've wanted you too." Cupping his face, my thumb traces the sharp line of his cheekbone. "Even when you were being an asshole."
"Especially when I was being an asshole," he counters, turning to nip at my thumb. "You going to keep talking, or are you going to make good on all the filthy thoughts you've been having about me?"
My answer is to pull him into another kiss, this one deeper, slower. We move toward the bed, shedding clothes along the way. His hands are everywhere, and I can't get enough of his skin against mine.
When we fall onto the mattress together, he laughs, a free, uninhibited sound I've rarely heard from him, and I swallow it with another kiss.
"You know," he says between kisses, working at my belt, "for someone who spends all day at a computer, your body is... fuck." His hands run appreciatively down my chest and abs. "How do you even have time to work out?"
"Stress relief. And I run. What's your excuse? You hiding this body under those hoodies on purpose?"
He blushes. "Don't like attention."
"Could have fooled me." I help him with my belt, then start on his pants. "Given how loud you're about to be."
His eyebrows shoot up. "Cocky."
"You have no idea. But I promise, it's justified."
His eyebrows shoot up at that, but whatever smartass response he's preparing dies the moment my boxers hit the floor.
Caleb's eyes widen as his gaze travels down my body and stops. "Fuck." He's staring. "That's… you're… holy shit."
"Cocky enough for you?" My grin grows. I’m going to wreck him in the best way. Make him feel so damn good he forgets his own name.
Instead of answering, he reaches out and treats me to a firm stroke that has me throwing my head back with a groan.
"Jesus Christ," he murmurs, continuing his exploration. "You're huge."
A flicker of concern crosses my mind. "Too much? We can do something else if you want. I've had guys change their minds before—"
He cuts me off by pulling me down for another desperate kiss. "Oh no. Your size is just the extra-large bonus to the whole package."
We both laugh, foreheads pressed together, until the humour gives way to something more urgent. I reach for the lube on my nightstand.
"So you know," Caleb says, watching me with heavy-lidded eyes, "I'm a very demanding bottom."
"I'm counting on it."
"I mean it," he continues, propping himself up on his elbows. "I'll tell you exactly what I want, how I want it, and I expect results."
Uncapping the lube, my eyes don't leave his. "Always the control freak, huh?"
"Someone has to have standards," he quips, but a vulnerability beneath the bravado that makes my chest ache. Yeah, well. I'm about to exceed every single one of them.
"Trust me," brushing my lips against his. "You won't be disappointed."
Warming the lube between my fingers, I circle his entrance, and fuck, he wasn’t kidding. He’s loud from the start, already demanding.
"More pressure," he breathes, hips shifting restlessly. "Don’t tease—"
I press the first finger in, and he arches with a sharp moan that goes straight to my core.
"Jesus—there," he gasps, fingers gripping my wrist. "Harder. I can take it."
"More," he demands almost immediately.
"Easy. We've got all night."
"James Hunter," he grits out, "if you don't add another finger right now, I swear to god—"