Page 2 of Finding Lord Landry

“See? I’m going to fill my cup, asshole,” I said before closing my suitcase and yanking the zipper.

Landry sat up again. “Take me with you. I’m good at filling cups. Pretty sure I filled your cup a few minutes ago, and I don’t recall any complaints.”

To my extreme horror, I felt my face heat.

This was unacceptable. He needed to go.

“Absolutely not. The retreat’s been sold out for weeks, and San Cordova is a small place where you’d be bored to tears anyway. Not a single dance club on the whole island,” I told him solemnly. “Nothing but the resort, a British historical something-or-other, a copper mine, and a very large number of coffee plants.”

“What if… what ifyou’remy scene?”

It took me a moment to comprehend what he was saying. I blinked up from my carry-on bag. “Me? How do you mean? Surely you can find someone else to wet your dick.” The idea of him having sex with someone else made my stomach revolt the same way eating brussels sprouts did. Or the idea of beans on toast.

“Not for that. I mean…” He stopped and flared his nostrils. “Never mind. Wait. What happened to our monogamy rule?”

I glared at him. “Don’t use that word.”

“Which word? Monogamy?” He flicked his hair back. “It wasn’t my idea, if you recall. When we first got together?—”

“No,rule. Calling it a rule implies that this is… that we are…” I pressed my lips together. “There are no expectations here, Landry. You can fuck anyone you want, whenever you want.” I clutched the packing cube in my hands tighter than absolutely necessary. “We’re not together.”

He’d suggested it before, most recently at Christmas, but I’d made it very clear I was not interested. It was purely physical or nothing at all.

Landry’s gaze, when it met mine, was unexpectedly heated. “When we firstfucked, you said there wouldn’t be a repeat. Then, when there was a repeat, you said it was only because I hadn’t slept with anyone else in between and you needed to ensure I wasn’t carrying… what was the exact phrase you used? Ah, yes, ‘Manky ho germs.’You said if I ever wanted to touch you again, I needed to keep my dick to myself.”

“That… doesn’t sound like a phrase I would use,” I lied, packing the few remaining items that needed to go in my carry-on.

In truth, I remembered the whole exchange—my flash flood of jealousy at the idea of Landry putting his hands and mouth on anyone else and the equally violent flare of relief when he’d shrugged and agreed—but a man couldn’t be held responsible for what he’d said or thought before he became enlightened.

“Anyway, it doesn’t matter anymore,” I continued. “I’m leaving. You’ll have to find someone else to… meet your needs.”

I almost added the words “while I’m gone,” but that would have been self-defeating. One of the biggest draws of spending four weeks in mindful meditation with very limited outside contact was the promise that it would help me realign my priorities and re-center my goals and dreams.

In other words, it would help me focus on the things I actually wanted out of life… and stop being distracted by the man I couldn’t seem to stop wanting in my bed.

He stood up and stretched, making an entire meal out of the thing. Acres of golden skin took up too much space in my small bedroom, and I nearly groaned.

I focused instead on the painting of Three Daughters I’d splurged on during my first trip to Majestic, Wyoming, and let out a slow breath. The mountain range wasn’t as breathtaking as Landry’s body, but it was a close second. The artist had captured the mountains in the golden hour just as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting warm, amber light over its jagged peaks and the peaceful river in the foreground.

I’d spent a lot of time in Majestic over the last few years as most of the men I worked for—Landry’s best friends—had found a home there, but I’d never found the particular spot depicted in the painting. Someday, though, I liked to imagine building myself a fortress of solitude there?—

“Is that what you really want, Kenji?”

The sound of my name in Landry’s voice made something inside me whimper.

Somethingdreadfulinside me.

Something unnecessary and unwanted.

And stupid.

It took me several long seconds to remember we’d been talking about Landry getting hisneedsmet, and when I did, my voice came out snippier than usual. “Yes. Why wouldn’t I?”

He threw up his long arms. “Oh, I don’t know… maybe because we’ve been together for three fucking years?”

“We’re not together!” I cried. “How many times do I have to tell you that?”

“Have you been with anyone else since that first time?” he demanded, though he knew the answer.

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