Chapter 21
Kyle
Now
With the ensuite still not complete and a desperate need for a soak in the tub, I head down the hall and lock myself in the main bathroom.
I’m enjoying the course, but I’m tired out from trying to get the housework done without James seeing me since I normally do it during the day.
While James is asleep, I stay up late to clean, then rise early to sneak in a load of clothes or get the ironing done.
On top of that, I need time to study, which I cram in on Wednesdays and the weekends when James is playing golf.
Fortunately, Lu has been a great help, pitching in whenever she can.
Turning off the taps once the bath is full, I strip and climb in, sinking down until the water laps at my chin.
It’s nice to be alone with my thoughts, the steaming hot water pulling the tension from my muscles.
I could try and think of other things, but I have no willpower to fight my desires tonight.
“Bren, baby,” I whisper, conjuring up an image.
His olive skin gleams, all sun and temptation, and those mahogany eyes—fuck, those eyes—look at me like he wants to be ruined.
Like he needs it. And, in my mind, I don’t hesitate.
I press him down and remind him exactly who he belongs to.
Arousal exploding, I wrap a hand around my cock, stroking lazily while gently rolling my balls with the other.
I take my time, wanting to draw out the pleasure, wondering how it will feel when our lips and tongues finally meet again.
Will Bren still taste as sweet as summer?
Will he moan and whimper when I sink into his body and stretch him open?
I almost growl, closing my eyes and fully surrendering to the fantasy.
I imagine Bren riding me, hips rolling as he throws his head back.
He cries out my name as he comes, spilling over the heated flesh of my stomach.
I gasp, releasing under the water, my body shuddering to the rhythm of, Bren, Bren, Bren.
Bren, the man who had invented an excuse to come and see me.
To check on my wellbeing. Bren, who hadn’t pulled away when I touched his hand, but instead, held onto it.
The tension pulled tight between us, the touch of his skin sparking flames up my arm.
Oh, how I had longed to surge forward and capture his lips with mine.
As I come down from the high of my orgasm, my thoughts turn to Bren’s rejection.
The words had stung, for sure, but I knew why he’d said them, and I knew they were intended to end my pursuit.
I’ve gotta give it to him, he sure is putting up a good fight.
But the tide has turned, the ocean an unstoppable force beyond us both.
Bren rightfully belongs to me, as I do him.
And, this time, when he finally comes home, I’m never letting him go.
Bren had come to me. He’d allowed himself to be held, to have a kiss pressed to that sweet spot just below his earlobe. I’d felt his temperature rise, heat radiating off his pleading body while his hands clutched achingly around my waist. Yesterday told me everything I need to know.
As I dry myself off, I come to the decision that I can’t wait any longer. Tomorrow I’ll chance another trip to Beautiful Bathrooms and this time, I’ll be honest. No more I-just-want-to-be-friends bullshit. Bren will know my honest intentions and what is truly in my heart.
While I wait in my car for the last employee to head home, I call my brother and sisters. They don’t pick up—of course—but I leave voicemails in the hope they’ll listen and get back to me. I text Lu about dinner, and then James, to say I’ve gone out for a drink with my mate, Jordan.
I know I promised myself only a week ago that I wouldn’t do this again, but somehow this feels different. I feel different. My intentions are clear and now I have proof Bren still cares for me, even if it’s buried down deep.
Stepping into his office at sunset, there’s no reaction from him. Instead, he calmly looks up from his laptop, as if he expected me. When he speaks, he sounds defeated.
“Kyle, it was wrong of me to visit you on Wednesday. I’m sorry. I don’t wanna fight you on this.”
“I know, Bren. But can you please just hear me out? Then if you still don’t want me in your life, I’ll go. I’m not bullshitting like last time.”
Bren stands and walks around his desk, stopping in front of me, close enough that I can see the tiny speckles of amber in his eyes.
“Fine. Say what you gotta say.”
My legs shake and my palms are so clammy I’m tempted to wipe them on my jeans. I should’ve done this years ago. I should’ve told Bren how much I love him, how I always have and always will. “Bren, the truth is, I still want you,” I begin.
His eyes drop to the floor, but I push on. “I know it’s wrong for me to say that when you’re married, and I shouldn’t have been coming here or showing up at your house, but I…” I swallow hard, my throat tightening. “Bren, you must know how I felt about you when we were boys and I still—”
“Kyle, stop!” he demands, cutting me off. “Don’t say another fuckin’ word. You’re in love with a memory. Nothin’ but a ghost from the past.” Bren steps back, putting distance between us.
“You’re wrong. You’re so wrong,” I say. “Not a single day has gone by when I haven’t thought about you.”
Hurt briefly passes over Bren’s face but is quickly replaced with anger. “Kyle, this has gotta stop. You can’t keep comin’ around here. You’re actin’ like a bored housewife. What happened to you? You used to have dreams and aspirations and all this energy.”
With Bren’s words, hope drains from my body. There’s stillness for a beat, then it’s replaced with violent, blood-curdling screams inside my head. Screams that feel like my brain is a mirror fracturing into a million pieces.
What happened to me? Fucking bipolar is what happened. It ruined my life. It fucking ruined us!
I need out. I’m suffocating. Drowning in fury and grief and endless regret. “Fuck you, Brendan!” I spit out, hatred filling the marrow of my bones.
Then I’m walking. Running. I need to get out of here. Far, far away.
Getting the car unlocked seems impossible, tears blurring my vision into a kaleidoscope of bleeding colour.
“Kyle!” Bren screams, and I turn to see him striding toward me from across the lot. “I’m sorry. Ky, stop. Please! I shouldn’t have said that.”
I fling the car door open, desperate to get away, but then he’s there beside me.
I bat away the tears from my face, furious and devastated.
“You know what, Brendan? I did have dreams once upon a time. I wanted to be a doctor if you remember. Then you said you were gonna marry Tiffany and start a family with her.”
He flinches at my words, but I’m not finished yet. “I had no choice but to leave. I couldn’t stay there and watch you play happy family with her. I couldn’t live knowing she got to sleep next to you and I didn’t.”
“Kyle, I never wanted you to go. It was your choice to leave.”
“Fuck you! You knew how I felt about you.” I slump back against my car, the fight draining away. “You broke me, Bren. Something snapped inside my head.”
Bren points at me, his chest heaving. “Don’t you fuckin’ blame me for your mental illness. That shit’s not on me!”
“Don’t be so goddamn na?ve,” I spit back, pushing myself off the car and crowding him.
“Take some blame for what you put me through.” I shove Bren hard in the chest and he stumbles backwards.
“If I hadn’t fallen for you, my life might have been fucking different.
I might have been happy.” I take a shuddering gasping breath, then yell, “Sometimes I wish I never laid fucking eyes on you, Brendan Young!”
He comes at me so fast I have no time to react—there’s just an explosion of pain as his fist connects with my face. But I only feel relief. Because all I want is for Bren to feel something, anything, for me. Even hatred is better than nothing.
My vision doubles as my back slams against my car.
Instinctively, I raise my fists in self-defence.
Bren throws another punch, which I somehow dodge, then I surge forward, landing an upper cut to his stomach.
Adrenaline floods my veins, my pulse pounding in my face.
We wrestle messily, screaming obscenities until I come to the realisation that all I want is to hold him.
“Fucking stop, Bren,” I beg, voice hoarse.
We stumble away from each other, out of breath and panting. We’re no longer the teenage boys we once were, when our bodies were hardened by frequent fighting. Bren looks shocked and dazed, his eyes wide like a lost and frightened animal.
“Bren, I didn’t mean it,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m sorry. I don’t regret one single minute of time I spent with you.”
Tears well in his eyes, then he steps forward, his voice breaking. “Fuckin’ come here.”
Hands fist my shirt, and Bren pulls me to him, crashing our mouths together.
My legs buckle, my body erupting with a searing heat as I open for him and he licks into my mouth.
I groan, low and primal, my hands coming up to hold his face, to claim him.
The kiss is brutal, tongues and teeth, desperate and deep.
I’ve waited years to have this again, and it soars beyond all expectations.
Sliding one hand down to grab his ass, I pull our bodies tight against each other.
My cock throbs hard and heavy, straining against the fabric of my jeans.
Bren’s erection presses teasingly against my upper thigh.
I walk him backwards, pinning him against my car with all my weight, kissing over his jaw and dragging my teeth down the column of his throat.
He moans, his throat vibrating against my lips.
Fuck, I want him so bad. I lick and bite into the flesh of his neck, his head lolling back in invitation.
“Baby,” I sigh, before devouring his mouth once again.
The wet slide of our tongues sends pleasure tumbling down my spine.
Frantically, I unbuckle Bren’s belt, giving me enough space to slip my hand inside his briefs.
The smooth, bare skin of his ass cheek sends me crazy, and I squeeze, revelling in the feel of the thick muscle under my palm.
Moving position, I slip one leg between Bren’s, encouraging him to rut his needy cock against my thigh. Fuck! I can’t breathe.
“Ky, please,” Bren moans against my mouth.
I slide my fingers between his ass cheeks, finding his sweet hole and stroking it softly. Jesus, I want inside him! Bren’s hand slips between us and he palms my cock through my jeans. Instantly, my balls draw up and I realise I’m frighteningly close to coming.
“Bren, baby. Let me take care of you. Let me fuck you.”
He pulls away so fast that my first thought is that we’ve been caught.
“Ky, fuck, I’m sorry. Fuck!” Bren backs further away from me. “This was a mistake. Shit, I’m sorry. You gotta go. I—I need to go.”
His eyes dart around the parking lot, disoriented. I can only stare back, confused and rooted to the spot. Suddenly he takes off, almost sprinting towards the showroom door. It takes me a second to react then I’m in pursuit. “Bren, what happened?” I yell after him. “Wait! Please, just stop.”
He enters the showroom and has it locked before I can stop him. I try the handle, the door rattling in my futile attempt to get in. “Bren! Open the door. Please, let’s just talk about it.”
Bren’s panic-stricken eyes stare back at me from the other side of the glass, then he shakes his head, receding into the shadows.
“Brendan!” I yell once more. But I know he won’t return. I know he won’t let me in.
On unsteady legs I walk back to my car, my body still tingling with the echo of arousal. My heart is full of love, but my head is riddled with fear.
Instead of going home, I drive to Jordan’s house.
He’s one of my very few friends—James having alienated all the others until they drifted away.
Jordan and I are gym buddies who occasionally go out for a beer.
We’re not that close, but he puts up with me bitching about James and is in favour of me leaving him. So, I figure I can trust him with this.
At Jordan’s place, his wife, Ruby, hands me an ice pack for my eye along with a couple of painkillers, which helps with the thumping headache.
My eye doesn’t look as bad as it feels, so that’s something.
Bren went easy on me, and I know he’d never inflict a serious injury.
And, let’s face it, I deserved what I got and then some.
Jordan helps me concoct a story to explain my injury and agrees to cover for me if necessary.
We decide that I should tell James we went out for a beer and got into a scuffle at the bar when a guy called me a faggot.
It’s believable, and, at this point, that’s all that matters.
After an hour, I feel calm enough to head home, thanking Jordan and his wife on my way out.
On the drive, I finally have time to think about what happened.
Despite everything, even though it’s stupid, I feel elated.
I know Bren will run from me again, and it will hurt like a motherfucker, but right now nothing can take away the euphoria of kissing him and feeling how much his body still craves mine.
If Bren hadn’t put a stop to it, I would have fucked him in the back of his Ute right there in the parking lot.
The aching need to have him, to make him mine, is driving me to the point of insanity.
I know the moment I slide into his body, he’ll come back to me. I just know it.
I don’t care about the argument anymore—most of that shit needed to be said regardless of how fucked up it was. We need to face our past and own up to all the hurtful shit we did to each other. I’m ready for it and I welcome it.
I’ll back off for a few days and wait for him to come to me. Because he will, of that I’m certain.
Opening the car window, the cool night air rushes in and sends goosebumps up my arms. I plant my foot on the accelerator and speed down the almost empty highway, my heart beating strong and heavy and determined.