Page 40 of Provoking the Punter

What if the guys he thought he should date were the wrong ones, and Garrett was what he needed?

He almost laughed, but it wasn’t funny because there’d been a spark he’d never felt before. He’d been in lust and in love, sometimes both at the same time. What else was there?

Brutal honesty.

They’d compared scars, the ones he didn’t talk about because he didn’t want to be judged by them. And because Garrett came from a different world—he didn't come from money like the men Chester usually dated—he didn’t care. That’s what felt different. He wasn’t trying to prove he belonged and that he was just like them.

Neither of them fit into the worlds they were trying to inhabit. There was probably something deeply psychological about that. Were they both secretly masochists and hadn’t admitted to enjoying the struggle and fight of trying to make it?

Except by all measures, both of them had already made it. They were successful.

But it could all be taken away.

His phone rang, dragging him back to what he was supposed to be doing, which was making sure he was making money, not losing money.

Business he understood.

Why the hell he wanted Garrett was much more confusing.

Maybe he needed to make a pro/con list.

Chester knocked on the hotel room door, knowing the reason he was there, and it wasn’t to talk, but it didn’t feel as though he was turning up to get laid. He wasn’t sure what this felt like, and he chose not to examine it too closely.

Nor had he made that pro and con list, because that meant examining what was going on. If he did that, he’d have to face reality, and he wasn’t remotely ready to do that.

If whatever was going on between them remained unlabeled and a secret, then he could fool himself for a little longer; that it didn’t mean anything. The fact he was justifying it meant it was something. And that turning up was a dumb thing to do. He sighed and shook his head. They’d even had that discussion.

The door opened, and Garrett stood there looking far too enticing in only a pair of shorts.

“Hey.” Garrett smiled, and Chester’s heart betrayed him by doing a happy bounce. His dick joined in.

Great.

All he needed to do now was trip over his own feet and fall into Garrett’s arms. Which is exactly what he wanted to do. He stepped in close—without tripping—and ran a hand up Garrett’s chest to wrap around the back of his neck and kissed him in the doorway.

It was only when their lips met that a bubble of doubt formed.

Would Garrett push him away?

Garrett slipped his arms around Chester’s waist, pulling him closer, pulling him inside, and shutting the door before pushing him up against it.

Smooth.

He didn’t want to be seen, but he didn’t want to be obvious about it. Besides, Chester kind of liked the way Garrett had manhandled him. The way he was pressing up against him, and how his hand had slid from waist to ass cheek.

“I wasn’t sure if you were going to come,” Garrett murmured against Chester’s lips.

He had spent ten minutes in the car, before driving here and also after parking, trying to work out what he was doing. What they were doing, and he still had no answers. “Just had a few things to sort out. You know what it’s like when things run late.”

“Yeah, there was a lot to go through today.”

“I can imagine.” Or at least he tried to. “Do they at least tell you what you did right or just list where everything went wrong?”

“Mostly the latter.”

“But none of it was your fault.”

“It’s a team sport. I bear some responsibility.” Garrett’s tongue worked over the ball of Chester’s lip ring before kissing him again.

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