11. Haze
11
HAZE
This guy is cute enough. He’s a little too surfer for me, but I’m horny and need to get off. While there’s a loud part of me irritated that I’m not going to demand Imry fucks me like he has before, I know this is the better option.
No complications. No baggage. No strings. I’m not toying with someone’s emotions this way, unintentionally or not. This is the best route I can take in my life right now, so I need to follow it.
This is what I keep telling myself.
I dress in shorts and a tank and then think better of it. I should at least pretend to care how I look, right? Then again, it’s just a hookup. I change into a tee. I’m not sure that glams me up much, but it’ll have to work. I’m not putting more effort into this when it’s probably going to be less satisfactory than my hand.
Way to get pumped, Haze.
Checking my messages with this guy once more, I slip into my shoes and head for the door. At the very least, I’ll get dinner on my way home. Hopefully, this guy is all he claims to be and I can get my fill in multiple needs during this single trip.
I slide my phone into my pocket and open the door just as Imry reaches the top of the front porch stairs. He stalls, eyes meeting mine.
We haven’t spoken since Thanksgiving. Not even via text. I’ve opened our chat no less than a dozen times each day to send him a message, but I feel like I’m drawing a blank. I don’t know what to say.
I know I’d be told that a simple ‘ hi ’ is a good start, but I feel like our interactions are far beyond a ‘ hi ’ at this point. Which again brings me to not knowing what to say. I had a whole message typed out that basically said, ‘ Thanksgiving was fun. I’m glad we can still hang out .’ But it felt too awkward and no matter how many times I changed it, it didn’t get better.
At one point, it looked like I was using a thesaurus just to make it sound less weird. Which only made it sound ridiculous.
“Hey,” I say because under these circumstances right this very second, it makes sense. In a text…? Nope, still not convinced.
“Hi,” Imry responds.
Another minute goes by as we stare at each other.
“So… I’m just…” Imry starts and trails off. He huffs out a frustrated breath and then walks toward me with purpose. I’m surprised when his mouth lands on mine, one of his hands tangling in the hair at the back of my head to bring me where he wants me.
I’ve never kissed anyone like Imry. It’s a feeling I really can’t explain. The entire act is erotic, all in itself. Consuming; stoking a fire all on its own. I swear, the last time we kissed, it felt like I could breathe fire from how hot he made me.
But this is different. It’s still kind of intense, but there’s something quieter about it. Imry steps into me, pressing against me. The hand not in my hair rests on my waist and then slides to my stomach and up to my chest. With his palm against my heart, he backs me into my house.
We land on the couch with Imry climbing on top of me, his mouth still firmly commanding mine in a slow, exploratory kiss that I’m not entirely sure how to interpret.
All kisses say something. Even if it’s a loud, ‘ I don’t know what I’m doing right now!’ There’s definitely a question in Imry’s kiss. Yes, he’s controlling me, making sure I’m exactly how he wants me to command my mouth. But I can taste the question there.
What I don’t know is what exactly he’s asking.
What I do know is that I fucking love kissing Imry Van Doren. I could do this every day for the rest of my damn life and die a very happy man.
Wait—what?
Okay, so it’s just a kiss. I’m going to choose to stand by that thought.
Imry sits back, licking his lips. As soon as our eyes meet, I know I’m right. There’s a question there. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my heart a little.
He frowns. “You talked to my brothers, didn’t you?” he accuses.
“In my defense, they accosted me in my backyard.”
Imry laughs, bowing his head. His smile fades. “What did they tell you?”
“Well, Darren is an asshole and deserves to be tied to a cement block in your lake, never to be seen again.”
He hangs his head a little further, his shoulders tensing some.
“They told me if I can’t be the kind of guy you need, then I should walk away now. Now being last week when they were here.”
“And?” he prompts.
I hate every second of this moment. “I chose not to pursue you,” I answer.
The air whooshes out of him and I very visibly see him deflate. “Oh,” he whispers. “I…”
Wow, I’ve never felt like such trash in my entire fucking life, which is rather impressive because I’ve hated myself a lot for letting Oren go through what he did without trying to do something. This is an entirely different feeling but one just as potently awful.
Imry gets off my lap and goes out the door. I watch him leave, letting my head fall back and closing my eyes. Hurting him was exactly what I was trying to avoid. Which means letting him think all the worst things he can come up with as to why us isn’t an option.
I jump up and run after him, catching him before he gets into his car. I wrap him in a bear hug from behind and squeeze him tightly to my chest. He doesn’t struggle. There’s zero fight in him.
“You didn’t ask me why I chose that?”
He shakes his head and still doesn’t ask.
“I think you and I are in different places in our lives,” I explain. “I spent a lot of time being a shell because… well, are you at all familiar with what went down in Anaheim last year? My father, the corrections officer that was murdered in the prison he worked in and everything that surrounded that?”
Imry nods. “Yeah. I know you’re his youngest son.”
“I spent twenty years hiding as much of myself as I could. To where sometimes, I didn’t even know what my truth was. I’ve been free of him and that life for less than two years, Imry. I’m still trying to figure that truth out. I can’t give you what you deserve when I don’t even know where the fuck I am in life.”
“It’s not you, it’s me,” he says.
I laugh. “Sometimes, yeah. I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you that, so I took Avory and Ellory’s instructions and metaphorically walked away without ghosting you.” Imry huffs, making me smile. “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to lead you on or give you hope I can be what you need and want and deserve. I just don’t think I can be that man.”
He nods and doesn’t say anything.
This still feels unsatisfactory. The pit in my stomach hasn’t lessened. My chest feels tight and uncomfortable like I haven’t just fixed this mistake or misunderstanding.
“You were going out,” Imry says quietly.
And now that sour feeling like I’m doing something wrong leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. Do I lie or tell him the truth? Sighing, I nod. “Yeah. No one important. Just…”
“A hookup.”
I nod.
His body tenses.
“What do you want from me, Imry? We’re playing this tug-of-war game, and I don’t think either of us is going to win.”
Up until this point, he hasn’t tried to get free of my hold. When he pulls away, I let him go. He doesn’t move far at all. In fact, he simply turns in my hold and then he’s kissing me again, his arms coming around my neck.
I sigh into his kiss, letting my arms fall around his waist. Have I said how much I love his kisses? I could get lost in them, which seems really unwise right now.
“How about we just take the pressure off?” Imry says against my mouth. “No expectations.”
“You really think that’s a good idea?”
“Can I tell you a secret?”
I raise a brow as I pull my head back to look into his eyes. “Okay.”
“The thought of you touching someone else or someone fucking you makes me absolutely murderous.”
I try not to be disturbed by the casual tone in which he says this.
“I’m not good about sharing my things.” Now his eyes hood, a smile makes the corners of his lips twitch.
“Should I point out now or later that I’m not one of your things?”
He smirks, pressing his lips to mine again. He doesn’t speak the words, but his kiss says them loud and clear: Yes, you fucking are.
I’m pretty sure I should be offended or annoyed. It’s hard to be when he’s kissing me. It’s hard to be anything other than feeling perfectly obsessed with his kisses when his mouth is on mine and his tongue is commanding me.
His lips move away but only by a breath. “Want to have dinner with me?” I ask.
Imry smiles. “Yes.”
“I can’t promise you anything. You understand that, right?”
He shrugs. “I only need one thing from you.”
“What’s that?”
“Sex with anyone else is off the table unless you want to see how serious I am about becoming murderous, Haze. Okay?”
A chill runs down my spine at his words. Is it the tone? The words themselves? Maybe the intent behind them. I have a strange feeling that he’s… serious.
“Uh… okay,” I tentatively agree.
“Then make me dinner and I’ll give you an orgasm for dessert. That way you get everything you wanted tonight, but in a way that doesn’t have me losing my shit. Yeah?”
I study his face. He’s serious. Teasing, too. “Okay…” I answer, dragging the word out. Since this is just a little too weird, I decide that, for now, we’re going to change the subject entirely. I drop my hands under his sexy little ass and pick him up. Imry’s legs wrap around me, and I carry him back to my house.
As soon as I set his feet on the floor, my phone pings in my pocket. Fishing it out, I’m not surprised to see a notification from the Thrustr app and the guy asking where I am. Very aware that Imry is watching me, I open the message and send him an apology, stating that something came up and I wouldn’t make it.
I turn the screen so Imry can see that I canceled.
There’s no mistaking that I can see his hackles rise. His lips press together. If jealousy had an aura, Imry would be glowing right now.
When his eyes meet mine over my phone, I close out of the app, shut the screen down, and toss the phone on the couch. Imry tries very hard not to scowl at it.
I’ve never been around someone jealous like this before. Not over me. I’m not going to say it’s healthy and it should definitely be a red flag, but it also kind of makes me feel good.
Gripping his hips tightly, I bring his body to mine, my mouth on his. “I canceled to be here with you, didn’t I?” I ask, lips moving against his.
“Yes,” he answers.
“Then stop trying to set my phone on fire with your eyes.”
“You’re mistaken. I’m trying to set him on fire through the phone.”
I snort and wrap my arms around him. “Well, stop. I agreed. Every time I want an orgasm, you’re up. That’s the deal we just made, right?”
His eyelids hood as he considers me. “Otherwise, no expectations,” he says, and I have a feeling that’s for me more than him.
“Yep. That’s what we decided.”
Imry nods, a slow, subtle bob of his head. “Okay.”
“Do you want to continue to glare at my phone and practice your telekinesis, or would you like to join me in the kitchen?”
My teasing question did as I hoped it would. He narrows his eyes at me, but his muscles relax. I laugh when he pinches my ass.
“You think you’re cute, don’t you?”
“Well,” I answer, turning my back on him and heading for the fridge. I have no idea what I even have to cook. “I can’t imagine one of ‘ your things ’ would not be cute, so yeah. I think I am.”
Imry sighs. “I’m going to regret this arrangement, aren’t I? Is that your goal? Make me regret it so I don’t care if someone else touches you?”
I grin into the fridge. “I think you’re probably too stubborn for that to work.” There’s some breakfast sausage. That’ll have to work. With it in hand, I stand and turn to look at Imry.
He’s leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest, giving me a demure, harassed look. Success. No longer tense and jealous.
I let him brood or whatever as I throw the sausages into a pan on the stove and then open cabinets for some inspiration. I love sausage as much as the next guy, but we’re going to need more than that.
I’m surprised when Imry wraps his arms around my waist. “Two things,” he says quietly, pressing his lips to the back of my shoulder. “I’m sorry about what you’ve been through. I hate that you lived like that for so long.”
My breath catches. For obvious reasons, I don’t talk about my life before coming to Arizona often. It’s always a little startling when it comes up and I’m not the one who did so. I nod, unsure of what else to say.
“Also, I’m not going to let you regret this, Haze. I’m sorry for the dickish way I acted before and I’m sorry that… I’m probably more than you signed up for, but I won’t let you regret this. I promise.”
I close my eyes, letting his warmth and his words seep into me. I turn in his arms and pull him close. For several minutes, we embrace in the kitchen with the quiet sizzle and pop of the sausage heating.
“This is a new slate,” I say. “Whatever we’re doing, we’ll figure it out. Neither of us will regret it, no matter what the future brings.”
Imry sighs. His arms tighten.