Chapter 13
Cole
I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling, the sheets twisted around my legs, and the glow from my clock the only light in the room.
All I could think about was Gavin sleeping down the hall in my spare bedroom.
Just knowing he was a few feet away had my pulse running faster than it should have after what had happened in my kitchen.
I’d never kissed a man before and had never thought about it. Then I’d let him kiss me, and instead of pulling back, I had kissed him in return. Before I knew it, he had dropped to his knees and I hadn’t stopped what came next. Instead, I had loved every second of it.
I dragged a hand over my face. What the hell is wrong with me?
This wasn’t me. I’d been with women my whole life. I had married one. Being with a man never crossed my mind. So why hadn’t I shoved him away? Why did I want what Gavin offered? And why did I enjoy it?
I flipped the pillow to the cool side and rolled onto my side.
Maybe what I’d tried to justify in the moment was true.
Maybe it was because almost two years had passed without anyone touching me, which was sure to mess with any man’s head.
That was all it was. It had to be. But that excuse didn’t hold up against the way it felt. How my body responded.
What did that mean? Was I gay? Bi? Just curious?
Hell if I knew. I didn’t know what box I fit into, and I wasn’t sure I wanted one.
What I did know was that what I had felt in the kitchen hadn’t been confusion.
My legs had nearly given out, I’d groaned so loud the neighbors could’ve heard, and I came harder than I had in a long time.
I pulled the blanket higher, but it didn’t calm my thoughts. My head kept going back to the guy down the hall, to his mouth on me, to the way I’d lost it. No matter what I did, I couldn’t shut it off.
* * *
The Keurig gurgled, filling the kitchen with the smell of fresh coffee while I leaned back against the counter, waiting for it to finish. I hadn’t slept much, and the few hours I managed to get had done nothing.
Just as the machine was done, footsteps came down the hall.
Gavin walked in, dressed for the day with a wide smile on his face.
My mind went straight to the wet grip of his mouth around me, the drag of his tongue, the way he swallowed when I finished.
My dick jumped at the memory, and I cleared my throat.
“Morning.”
“Morning.” He set his bag down.
I pulled another mug from the cabinet and slid it under the machine. “Creamer, milk, sugar?”
“Vanilla creamer?”
“Yep.” I held up the bottle.
“That works. And some sugar.”
I handed him the already made coffee, creamer, and a small container of sugar with a spoon.
He fixed his coffee then cupped his mug with both hands and stared at the steam.
I prepared mine and then took a sip, keeping my eyes on my coffee instead of him.
The silence dragged out longer than it should have because I should have said something—anything—but nothing came to mind that didn’t sound either stupid or too much.
“Thanks again for last night.”
I glanced at him. “Don’t worry about it.”
His gaze shifted to the floor. “About what happened—”
My gut clenched. The last thing I wanted was to pick apart what had happened between us before I had the words for it. I shook my head. “I’ll check the water heater this morning. If it needs a plumber, I’ll set one up.”
Gavin’s mouth closed around whatever he’d been about to say. He blinked, then gave a slight nod. “Sounds good.”
I set my mug on the counter, still half full. “I’ll meet you over there in a bit.”
“Okay. I’ll head out soon. Just come over when you can.”
He lingered with his coffee, eyes darting between me and the floor. I busied myself at the dishwasher, opening it and sliding my cup onto the rack after pouring out the mixture.
After a few quiet sips, he carried his mug over and handed it to me, not bothering to finish it either. Our fingers brushed when I took it, quick but enough to spark the memory of last night all over again.
“See you soon.” He turned and headed for the front door.
“Yeah.” I loaded his cup next to mine and kept my eyes on the dishwasher until the door shut behind him.
* * *
By the time I pulled into the lot, Dad’s van was already parked in front of the inn. I’d called him after Gavin had left my place, figuring it was better to have him with me. Water heaters weren’t my specialty, and after last night, having my father around would hopefully make things less awkward.
I grabbed my tool bag from the back of my truck. My boots crunched over the packed snow, breath puffing in the cold air, until I reached the back steps.
“Morning, Son.”
“Morning,” I answered, shifting the bag on my shoulder.
Gavin waited just inside, his hands buried in the front pocket of his sweatshirt. His eyes met mine and dropped quickly. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I returned, then followed Dad through the kitchen and down the narrow stairs.
The basement was colder than outside, the air damp and still. The water heater sat in the corner, rust spreading along the bottom and dust clinging to the top.
My father crouched with his flashlight and gave the burner a closer look. I stood next to him, tool bag open, ready to pass what he needed. Gavin stayed near the stairs, his arms crossed tight as he watched. I tried to focus on the job, but his eyes stayed on me, and I didn’t hate it.
“Pilot’s out,” Dad told us, striking the lighter until the flame caught. He watched it for a moment, then checked the connections. “That’ll hold for now, but this tank’s at the end. You’ll need a plumber to put in a new one before long.”
Gavin exhaled, his shoulders dropping. “At least I’ll have hot water again.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I’ll start calling around. You’ll be set until someone can come out.”
He nodded. “Appreciate it.”
We went back upstairs, and Dad closed up his jacket and looked at me. “I’ll let you handle the plumber. Keep me posted once you have a date.”
“Will do.”
He headed out the back, leaving me alone with Gavin.
I shifted the bag in my hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow. We’ll start building the new porch. I’ve got Pete lined up to help me.”
“Sounds good.”
* * *
That night, I was stretched out in bed, the blanket shoved to my waist, my cock hard and pressing against my boxers. Sleep wasn’t happening. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Gavin on his knees, my dick buried in his mouth, his hand gripping my hip.
I dragged a hand over my face, told myself to knock it off, to just turn over and try for sleep.
I rolled to my side, shifted, pulled the blanket up, but it was useless.
The throbbing in my hard-on refused to go away as my mind kept returning to him.
To the wet pull of his lips. To his tongue running down the underside of my shaft.
To the way he swallowed when I exploded in his throat.
I cursed under my breath and shoved the sheet and my boxers down. My dick sprang free, flushed and leaking at the tip. I wrapped my fist around my thick length and stroked once, slowly, just to feel the pleasure race through me. The tension in my body kicked harder, heat rising low in my gut.
I pumped again—tighter, faster. Pre-cum slicked the head, and I spread it with my thumb, groaning into the darkened room.
My hips lifted off the mattress as I worked my shaft. The memory replayed in flashes: his lips working down, the scrape of his stubble, the pull of his throat when he took me deep. Every stroke of my fist matched the rhythm of his mouth until I was gasping, chasing the thought.
“Fuck,” I panted, my voice raw.
I stroked harder, twisting at the head, my cock slick in my grip. Wet sounds filled the room as I worked myself. My abs clenched with every jerk. My body jolted, begging for more.
Then the picture shifted. Gavin wasn’t on his knees anymore.
He was bent over in front of me, his backside open, my dick pushing into his ass.
The thought landed like a punch, sharper than I wanted to admit.
My hand tightened and stroked faster, my hips snapping into my fist as if I was already fucking him.
I groaned as my eyes squeezed shut, imagining the heat and the stretch, how tight he’d be around me.
I pictured grabbing his waist, holding him steady while I shoved in deep.
I saw his back arching, his voice breaking as he begged me not to stop.
The image drove me wild, and my shaft twitched in my fist with every tug, wetness dripping from the tip and making it easier to pump.
“Goddamn.” The word tore out of me as I went faster, needing the release.
In my head, Gavin pushed back against me, his ass swallowing me whole, his hand braced on the wall as he moaned my name. I imagined fucking him hard, my hips pounding, his body taking all of me.
“Shit,” I groaned, my hand flying over my length. My release hit fast and brutal, cum shooting across my stomach in thick ropes. I bucked into my fist, chest heaving, every pulse leaving me weaker until I dropped back against the mattress.
I lay there gasping, sweat damp on my skin, my cock still twitching in the aftermath. I reached for the box of tissues on the nightstand, wiped myself down, and tossed the mess into the trash.
I rolled onto my side and dragged the blanket over me again.
My body felt drained, but my head refused to shut off.
It wasn’t just the memory of his mouth anymore.
I had pictured burying myself inside him, pounding into him until I couldn’t see straight, and the fact that I wanted it messed with my head even more.