Page 27 of Rocking the Receiver
“It’s fine, Rupert. I’m beat and need to catch up on my beauty sleep anyway.”
We chuckle at that. Bags slung over our shoulders, we nod at each other. This is it. His hand firmly grips my shoulder. We walk side by side, our breathing and stride unintentionally in sync. Just as it was when we practiced the aptly named ‘Art of Breathing,’ during these excruciatingly difficult days.
Soon enough, the sliding doors of LaGuardia Airport open to our new reality. One where Sally doesn’t exist. One where Nathan suggested we take a breather from each other until further notice. One where Elliot rearranged his priorities to be here for me.
Now that he’s done with finals and doesn’t have pressing football affairs, he is able to visit for a few days. As much as I hate the circumstances that brought him back to New York, I couldn’t be more relieved.
My mouth goes dry and my pulse races at the sight of him. Solid frame. Broad shoulders. Perfect height. Could he have grown taller since I saw him about three weeks ago? My hungry dick thickens inside my dark blue jeans. My skin tickles deliciously. I embrace it; and here I thought Sally’s death rendered me immune to positive emotions. I suck in a strangled breath.
This man is going to be the death of me…
The uncharacteristic timid grin on Elliot’s face betrays his nerves at Nathan’s presence. Within seconds, his collected expression morphs. Darkened eyes. Flushed face. Tapping foot. At first, I mistake it for impatience due to lust, until he’s glaring at the spot where Nathan’s hand is attached to my shoulder.
Jealous, much?All in all, I find it endearing, and some twisted part of my fragile ego delights at his possessiveness. Does he really think Nathan’s gesture is fueled by anything other than consolation?
I’ll take all the support I can get lately. That’s why Elliot’s plan pleases me to no end. Fathoming that I couldn’t stand to return to my place right after burying Sally, he suggested what he referred to as a comforting bubble to pause the outside world for an extended weekend. Hence, he got here ahead of me, settled in a hotel of his choosing, and went sightseeing while waiting for me to arrive.
I’m amazed at how considerate he is and simultaneously flattered by his territoriality. But I’m not an asshole, mind you. I don’t play games with Elliot. He is here. I want him here.
My head swivels, and I stare at Nathan’s friendly hand, then his gaze meets mine. Without a word, he places his hand in his dark pants pocket and follows my lead.
A warm glow spreads across my face as I greet Elliot and introduce them. “Thanks for picking me up, Elliot. This is my friend, Nathan Price.” I gesture towards Nathan. “Nathan, this is my…” The words get stuck in my mouth for a beat. Blinking, I eventually add in a more determined voice. “Elliot.” Yeah, he ismy Elliot… Mine… I cough lightly. “This is Elliot Lefevre.” My heart thumps so violently, it resonates in my ears. “My?—”
Before I am able to continue, Nathan glances at me, extends his hand for Elliot to shake, and supplies in a playful yet unfazed tone, “Boyfriend, I suppose.”
Elliot’s lips part to counter him, no doubt, but I beat him to the punch. This time, there’s no stutter or pause when I reply, heat coursing through my body. Not numb, then. “Yes, he is.”
I don’t recall sharing my sexual orientation with Nathan, but we shared a few drunken evenings with Sally where I might have given it away. Oh, well, maybe my attraction to Elliot isn’t as well hidden as I thought. But I meant what I told Elliot: Why hide things from Nathan, even if his assumption is slightly far-fetched?
With that, my green gaze captures his as I reach his side and intertwine my fingers with his for a split second. I shiver at the contact, and some more when he wets his lips with the tip of his tongue. His cheeks stay rosy, which is adorable along with his freckles. I’m about to release his hand when he tightens his hold. I don’t pull away. After all, I just claimed him as mine… I might as well enjoy the thrill of his touch. All of this doesn’t help with my semi, so I tuck my free hand in my pocket and conceal it as best as I can.
Come what may.
“Nice to meet you, Nathan. I’ve heard so much about you.” Does Elliot’s voice sound more gravelly than I remember? It does something X-rated to my brain. My fingers crook around his as his other hand releases Nathan’s. “You’ve got to teach me some of your breathing techniques one of these days. Maybe they’ll help to restrain my impulse to smack a couple of my brainless teammates.” Reminded of Elliot’s situation with Davis and his equally foul-mouthed linebacker buddy, my heart tightens.
“Feel free to attend any of my seminars, but I’m afraid none are scheduled in the near future because I have more pressing deadlines… Don’t worry, though, your man is fully capable of teaching you.”
I sure am… Well, if I can finally have my wicked way with Elliot, his education would cover so much more than a typical class… More like moaning, whimpering, and grunting.
All in due time…
But I ache for this man.
So much.
Elliot
THE LONG UBERRIDEto the hotel is eerily quiet, but his hand remains locked in mine. I take shallow breaths as the warmth radiating from the contact travels across my skin.
His boyfriend… I’m doing my best to adjust to the white lie. Why did he do that? Who cares? It did funny things to my insides and boosted my bruised ego. Yup, my ego’s been on an emotional rollercoaster since the engagement party two years ago. Bruised by his initial rejection… until he initiated a welcome back kiss and then some. Thanksgiving was a missed opportunity; too bad. For once, I command my mojo to behave; I’ll be the shoulder Rupert needs to lean on and will provide solace to my grievingboyfriend. Period. The bags under his eyes are all the evidence I need. Truth be told, I’m at a loss when it comes to him. I thought I knew what I wanted from him, but he’s beensending mixed signals, which make me reconsider everything. Today, I should proceed with caution, even though I ache for him. This isn’t about me; he’s in bad shape.
I inwardly congratulate myself for deciding on this quiet, upscale hotel—that he insisted paying for. The Upper East Side doesn’t hold any memories of Sally.
“I’ve missed you, Elliot,” Rupert utters as we cross the threshold, hand in hand, his front glued to my back. His breath caresses the back of my neck.
When the door closes behind us, he whirls me around and presses my back against the nearest wall. The noise I make is covered by the thump of his weekender on the floor.
His hand cradles my face. My breath hitches. Next thing I know, I yelp as he slants our mouths together, seeking entrance. I growl.
