Page 217 of Worthy

He shrugs. “It was okay.”

Um, excuse me. My mouth falls open slightly and I fold my arms over my chest as I shoot him an amused glare. “Okay? What was wrong with it?” I’m slightly offended, I won’t lie, because what the fuck, my kisses are awesome. He snuck on me so fast that I didn’t get to show him how it’s supposed to be done.

“Oh, nothing.” His cheeks flush again and he looks down to the floor once more. “It just wasn’t very long. I was nervous and…”

Okay, so he wants a real kiss. That’s cool. I can do that.A kiss won’t make me gay.I lift his chin, making him meet my eyes, and I lean down to slant my lips over his again. This time I take control, kissing him softly and deeply, our lips sliding over each others. My hands are holding his neck and I won’t lie, it’s not a bad kiss. His lips are a little dry but they’re warm and full.

I feel the hesitant swipe of his tongue along my bottom lip and I gasp in surprise, allowing him to enter my mouth. It’s awkward at first as we try to navigate with our tongues, but before long, we’re both probing, gliding, and experimenting as we make out. His hands are now holding onto my hips and I press him back against the door. At some point, I forgot this was Pete, and I don’t know when it happened, but my dick is hard and ready for some action. As if he’s reading my thoughts he rocks his hips forward and our cocks slide together, causing a groan to tear from my throat.

“Fuck.” I rasp out against his lips, diving back in for another kiss. I start to rock too, eager as hell to get off. Our soft moans and sloppy kisses are the only sound in the room and I tear my lips away from his as my orgasm starts to climb. “Jesus Christ.” I cry out.

Why does this feel so good? Sex always feels good, but this feels… different, right, better. Is it supposed to feel like this with another man?

“Oh, God, Owen. I’m close,” he moans. My eyes hold his and I watch as his pupils dilate, his body stiffens, and then a soft cry escapes his lips and it’s enough to set me off. I follow behind him, rocking until I’ve milked every last drop of cum from my dick. I move off of him, leaning back against the door too and we both gasp for breath. I feel weak as fuck, like my knees are about to give out.

Pete chuckles, and I look at him, brow cocked in confusion. “What?”

He just shakes his head. “I’m definitely gay.” Then he turns to me with a bright smile now on his lips. “Thanks, Owen. That was…” He looks like a completely different guy than when he walked in here. “That was great. I appreciate the… And yeah, sorry about the uh...” He waves towards our dicks, that pink flush back. “Right, well. I’m going to go clean up and head to bed.”

He gives my arm a squeeze and I move so he can slip through the door while my brain is reeling. I just made out with a guy… and liked it… Is it okay that I liked it? What the hell does this mean?Fucking Pete!

Chapter two

Six Years Later

Owen

This is pointless.

Tipping back the rest of my scotch, I revel in the way the liquid burns the back of my throat before the heat settles in my stomach. I’m at Daybreaks, the most popular gay club in Atlanta. I’m here because I’m trying to see if this is what I’ve been missing.

It’s just like any other club I’ve ever been to. There’s a DJ, a bar, and tons of people dancing under a stream of neon lights. I bite my lip, leaning back harder into the wall as if to make myself invisible while my eyes roam over multiple guys as they pass me. I can’t help but feel like a creeper. I have no intention of even talking to any of them, I just want to see if anyone catches my interest.

There’s every kind of guy you can imagine in here. Tall, lean, built, short, skinny, thick, tattoos, piercings, bubbly, fem… the list goes on, and yet not one single person here has piqued my interest.

What am I even doing? Or better yet, what am I doing wrong?

The song changes to another and then another as I people watch. I glance down at my Rolex and sigh when I note that it’s been an hour. This was a complete bust. I don’t know what I was expecting. Maybe some big eureka moment? Maybe the misconnecting pieces in my brain would suddenly snap together and the confusion I’ve been dealing with for most of my adult life would suddenly make sense? I don’t know but I wasn’t expecting to be walking out of here even more confused than I was hours ago.

Resigned, I exit the club and head to my Land Rover. The drive home is quick and I take the elevator up to my high-rise, a lost feeling settling over me. I’m twenty-eight years old, for fuck’s sake. I should know my sexuality by now. I should know what I want when it comes to my love interest. Hell, I thought I had. Then I went to college, got my first gay kiss, and it changed me. I found myself looking at guys just as much as girls. I thought it was just curiosity, something that’d blow over after some time. Hell, it’s not like I’d ever acted on my urges anyway… And yet, years later, here I am no closer to figuring out what or who I want.

The dinging sound of the elevator pulls me from my wandering thoughts and I use my key card to let myself into my place. I toss the stuff from my pockets on the entry table, the bottle of scotch calling from me from the cart in the living room. Getting a crystal tumbler and filling three-fingers worth, I take a long sip. Scotch is an acquired taste, one I never thought I’d enjoy, but now it’s my go-to drink. Maybe that’s what’s happening with me and my sexuality. I just need to try it and see what I enjoy?

I down the rest of my drink, put the glass away, and begin the trek to my bedroom while tugging the buttons on my shirt a little harder than necessary as I go. I toss the button-down, my white undershirt, and slacks into the hamper, then change into some sleep pants.

I check a few work emails, ignoring some and sending some to Lance so he can answer them in the morning.Lance. My heart kicks up as I think about his pretty, pouty lips and his sea-green eyes hidden behind a pair of stylish metal frames.

Damn it.

The whole reason I’m questioning myselfagain. No guy has piqued my interest in years, hence why I thought college was just a phase. Then I met Lance McBride and my entire world shifted on its axis.

I was elbows deep in work and remember being so irritated that Diana, my father’s assistant, had scheduled me an interview. When he walked into my office with so much confidence and grace, he made me do a double take. I was hooked from the start. Sexy. That’s the only word I had to describe him. Everything about him was sexy from his perfectly fitting clothes to his styled quiff.

He amazed me during his interview. Not only did he seem capable of handling the position, but he also had a personality. He wasn’t a corporate robot. I was enamored with his laugh, the sparking glint in his eye when he spoke, and how he used his hands to help tell a story. He was so expressive. Everything about him was an enigma.

So naturally, I hired him. I thought he was perfect for the position and he was, but I didn’t realize how greatly I was biting myself in the ass by moving forward with him. Now here we are, six months later and I’m bordering on an unhealthy obsession with my sexuality—with my assistant.

Shaking my head, I connect my phone to the charger and take care of business in the bathroom, then stagger my way over to my bed. I’m not really tired yet, but I know five AM will be here fast. So I tell Alexa to set my alarm, turn off the lights, and I crawl under the covers, trying to put this shitty day behind me.

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