Page 4 of Mixed Motives

“No, why do you want to have s—sleep with me?”

“Oh. Because Kerrigan cheated on me.”

Of fucking course.

That explains why this adorable man’s lower lip is trembling and his eyes are full of unshed tears. Henry’s utterly heartbroken.

Oh, sweet boy, you didn’t deserve that.

And my brain engages in a quick calculation: Do my concerns still apply, now that Henry is my son’s ex-boyfriend?

Yes. It’s still wrong. If Kerrigan cheated on him—which I unfortunately don’t doubt—then Henry is going through a lot, and he’s likely vulnerable and emotional, so he needs to be treated with kid gloves. I’m going to listen to him, and if I can help him, I will. But I’m not touching him.

Not because I wouldn’t like to. In fact, if I dig down deep, this isn’t the first time the image of fucking Henry has been in my brain. Henry’s (normally) geek chic, with an ass that won’t quit and a certain anxious energy combined with a lost-puppy look that makes me want to take him under my wing and care for him. Soothe him. Wash away all his worries.

Still … nope. “I’m sorry he cheated on you,” I tell him, “but what does that have to do with sleeping with me?”

“I wanted him to feel as bad as I do,” Henry whispers. “I couldn’t turn the tables and cheat on him, since we’re broken up, but I thought this would be … the closest thing, I guess.”

I should be upset that Henry wanted to use me in some harebrained plot, but I feel for the guy. He’s hurting. It’s all I can do not to gather him in my arms and hug him. But. “I’m not going to be used in a revenge scheme against my son.”

That said, I’m pretty angry with Kerrigan for treating Henry this way… and ashamed that I raised a son who would cheat.

Henry scrubs his face. “Yeah. I know. I’m sorry. I guess … I’ve always been attracted to you, and I was just so fucking pissed, and now that”—he waves his hands, indicating, perhaps, that we’re both single—“I was wondering if …” He swallows hard.

I shake my head, and Henry sinks into the couch, his disappointment palpable.

“When did it happen?” I ask.

“Two hours ago. I caught him in the act—graphically—with that snake Ian Davis. I thought we were exclusive, but apparently, Kerrigan didn’t. And I know that not everyone wants the same thing I do?—”

“You don’t need to justify his actions, Henry.”

“Yeah, okay. But I understand that monogamy isn’t for everyone. Just because it is for me…”

“Me, too. I mean, monogamy is my preference, too.”

And as we talk, I find myself thinking This is worse. Because Henry and I have always naturally hit it off. When Kerrigan would bring him over for dinner, I’d find myself talking more to Henry than to my own son.

But even if Henry and Kerrigan have broken up, and even if I were good with being used for revenge—which I’m not—Henry’s a cool twenty-two to my forty-two, and that’s just … too young.

There’s a reason why people are squeamish about age differences. I don’t want to take advantage of a younger man—there’s an inherent imbalance of power. Except Henry’s coming on to me, I’m not pursuing him.

Still, there’s an ick factor, although I suppose that’s a heteronormative thought. After all, if we aren’t procreating—and setting aside potential health issues in the future—what does age matter?

My body doesn’t care how old he is. In fact, it likes his lithe form and smooth skin.

Still. I have to say no. But I don’t want Henry to feel bad that I’m turning him down.

I sit forward. “Listen to me. I’m going to tell you the truth.” I let out a breath and just go for it. “I’m attracted to you, always have been, and if you weren’t my son’s boyfriend—or rather, ex-boyfriend—and also twenty years younger than me, I’d likely take you up on your offer. Only thing is, I’d want more than sex with you. I’d want you in my life.”

He shivers, and I think it’s part physical arousal, part emotional.

God, Henry’s absolutely perfect.

What I could do to him. With him.

“But the bottom line is, I can’t help you take revenge on my son,” I say. My voice lowers to a whisper. “No matter how much I want you.”

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