Page 11 of Touch of Innocence
“He seems nice,” Isaac commented, and Sam swallowed down the growl and the snarky answer that wanted to come out at that. He seemed nice? He was a drifter, just passing through, the epitome of a bad boy and it was stupid to even have him in their house.
But Sam couldn’t say any of that. Besides, everyone was finishing with dinner, and coming to dump their bowls into the sink. Isaac started some hot water running, and Sam shook his head. They refused to get a dishwasher, which he’d always thought was ridiculous. What was it, a hundred years ago? Washing dishes by hand in an old farmhouse?
“Babe, you have to get to work,” Ben commented, and he even wrapped an arm around Isaac’s waist and gave him a tender kiss on the cheek which made a lump rise in Sam’s throat. They loved each other so much, and it was times like this that he felt guilty for judging them so much. For wishing that they could just be normal. “I’ll do the dishes.”
“You cooked,” came a low, deep growl from behind them, a voice that Sam was coming to think he would notice, and hate, anywhere. “I’ll do the dishes.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
“Maybe you’d like to stick your nose a little bit further up my brother’s ass,” Sam snarled, losing control a little. At least he kept it together enough that he said it quietly, leaning in to whisper it into Gunner’s ear, because Ruby probably didn’t need to hear that sort of language.
“Thanks,” Ben shot Gunner a grateful smile, and Isaac, too. Was everyone falling for Gunner’s charm? It didn’t seem fair somehow. It was like Sam was the only one who could see through his act.
Well, there was no way in hell that Sam was going to let this happen. So he rolled up his sleeves, grabbed a drying towel, and started to wipe down the clean dishes and put them away as Gunner washed them. Gunner wasn’t the only one who could help.
Fuming, Sam noticed when Isaac left that the other man gave him a peculiar smile and a raised eyebrow before disappearing. What had that been all about? It was like Isaac thought he and Sam had a secret, and there had been that significant look at Gunner like Isaac was inviting him to consider something …
Ridiculous. All of it. Even Sam’s behavior, and he knew it. Maybe even especially Sam’s behavior. He was pretty sure he’d never been so angry while doing dishes in his life, and every time he snuck a look at Gunner, the guy was watching him with a small smirk.
“What is it?” Sam finally asked when he couldn’t take anymore. There was surprisingly little sound in the house. The murmur of the television, the soft sound of voices, Ruby’s and Ben’s. They were probably doing her homework, thanks to Gunner.
And Sam, too, he reminded himself. He was helping, too. But only because of Gunner, which only made him angrier than ever.
“Oh, nothing,” Gunner murmured, though there was a challenge in his eyes as he wiped out the stew pot, the last of the dishes. The two of them had gotten it done pretty fast, he had to admit. “It’s just that you’re pretty cute when you’re mad, Sammy. Did you know that?”
Sammy again. Sam didn’t even let his big brother call him that, not most of the time, anyway, and yet, he was coming to sort of like it from Gunner. Or did it infuriate him more than ever? Or both? His head was all in a mess over this asshole.
“I’m not cute,” Sam muttered, and he considered telling Gunner not to call him that yet again, but hadn’t he decided to ignore it until it went away? So he fought back the urge, putting the clean pot on the drying rack and hanging up the towel he’d been using.
When he turned around, Gunner was right there, that same challenge gleaming in the depths of his mischievous eyes. A smile lingered on his sensual lips, slightly parted, a gleam of white teeth as Gunner shifted toward him with all of the smooth grace of a predator.
Once more, they were almost, but not quite, touching. Once more, Sam’s heart picked up until it was drumming away as though being pounded on by a manic hand, thumping away so fast and hard that Sam was sure that Gunner would be able to hear it. And doubtless, he’d make fun of him for that, too.
Why he did it, he didn’t even know. Maybe to try to catch Gunner off guard, like Gunner kept doing to him. There could be no doubt, though, that it was him who started it. Last time, Gunner had kissed him, and this time, it was all Sam.
There had been a bit of a questing element to their last kiss, a discovery. There was nothing like that now. It was all heat, and fire, and anger, and this time, Sam hooked his fingers onto the back of Gunner’s neck and pulled him close, forcing the kiss to deepen until it was almost rough enough to bruise their lips.
Their tongues didn’t so much dance together as they did battle, and while they hadn’t really touched each other last time, this time Gunner was soon pressed right up against him, pinning him against the fridge, one leg pressing between Sam’s until Sam felt like he couldn’t breathe.
This kiss had been to prove a point, hadn’t it? Only somehow, Sam couldn’t remember exactly what that point had been. Or had he ever known? Wasn’t it possible that he was doing this just because he wanted to? Because the memory of their kisses had haunted him, had made it difficult to think about anything else at all?
Sam had never thought that he would kiss another man. But even if he had, in his deepest, darkest fantasies, considered it, he had never thought that he would be kissing another man in this kitchen, in a house where so many other people lived. He had never thought that his legs would be pushed apart, that he would feel that strong, muscular thigh pushing right up between his, or feel another man’s weight against him, trapping him, pinning him with his dense body.
It should have been disgusting. He’d always told himself that he wouldn’t even be able to tolerate such a thing, but he was doing a lot more than tolerating it. He was gripping Gunner tight, pulling him close against himself, rocking against him, and whether he liked it or not, his pants were stretched tight around the thick hardness of his erection.
Gunner was making him hard. Gunner, with his strong, calloused hands, with his attitude, with his cocky grin. Gunner, with his hot body, and the way he pressed his thigh up toward Sam’s aching cock, encouraging Sam to grind against him.
If this kept up long enough, Sam was going to completely humiliate himself by shooting off in his pants like some desperate teenager. Already, he was leaking, messing up the inside of his boxers with slick precum as he arched toward Gunner, hating his own rebellious body for liking it so much.
If they’d been truly alone, Sam had to admit to himself, at least, that he had no idea if he would have been able to stop. Just because he’d never done anything like this before, not with a man, didn’t mean that his body, treacherous as it was, didn’t know what to do.
It knew. It knew all too well. His hips moved in a dance as old as time itself, seeking out that thick thigh and grinding on it as he kissed this man over and over again. On some level, of course, it did feel weird, but the weirdest part about it was that it didn’t actually feel that weird at all.
It felt normal. Good. Like something he’d been waiting for. Completely natural, and maybe that was the most terrifying part of all.
In the end, he was saved, not by himself as he would have thought. Not by disgust, or fear, or dislike for what was happening. He was saved because the sound of voices from the other room were coming closer, and even lost in a haze of desire as he was, Sam heard it.
He shoved hard against Gunner’s shoulders, pushing him away, only Gunner didn’t need to be pushed. He had an expression of panic on his face exactly like the one that Sam knew was on his own.
Ruby walked in, chattering away, barely looking at them, but Ben, who was with her, shot them a bit of a look, one that Sam didn’t quite know how to interpret. It was a deeply thoughtful look, but also amused, like he knew more than Sam really wanted him to about what he’d been up to.
It felt like he wore his guilt on his face, for anyone to see. Without meeting his brother’s eyes, without even so much as a snarky comment at Gunner, Sam pretty much ran out of the room. Ran straight to his car, heading to the bar.
Funny how the place he ended up running to was a gay bar. Funny how it had been for the entire time, short as it was, that he had legally been able to drink. It felt especially ironic now that he was trying to hide from what he’d done.
But it was the place where he could go and drink, and that was good enough for him. Hopefully, it would help him calm his pounding heart, his throbbing, aching body, his racing mind.
