Page 6 of Touch of Innocence
Gunner turned around to grab another can of oil, and as he did, those eyes settled on Sam for just a moment. And it was right at the worst time because it was right when Sam was staring at Gunner’s ass. It was pure coincidence, but it had to look pretty bad.
“You’re checking me out,” Gunner told him, and Sam shook his head, that cold panic running through his limbs once more.Caught, you’re caught.Something inside of him screamed—a scared little voice that he’d been living with his whole life.
But he hadn’t been caught. He hadn’t been doing anything wrong. It was just that his eyes had happened to be directed toward this man’s ass when he turned around. A misunderstanding, nothing more.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Sam managed, his tongue flickering out to wet his lips, which suddenly felt far too dry. But despite his words, Gunner was walking over to him, and his lips were quirked up at the corners in a little smirk that Sam was sure that some people, not him, but some people, would find sexy.
“You closeted or something?” Gunner asked, as he moved with that smooth grace toward Sam, who backed up until he felt something pressing against the back of his legs, right under his ass. A counter, and soon, Sam was practically trapped against it.
For some reason, his heart was beating a rapid, staccato pulse in his chest, almost painfully. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Gunner, and the son of a bitch knew it, too. Knew it, and enjoyed the discomfort which he was giving Sam.
“You’re imagining things,” Sam struggled, and managed, to get those few words out. Gunner was right up close, almost pressed against him. Maybe an inch separated them. Sam’s shirt was almost brushing against Gunner’s body.
“Am I? Then walk away,” Gunner murmured, and something had changed in his voice, in the depths of his eyes. The playful mockery was gone, and instead, there was a teasing, seductive heat there. “I’m not holding you here. You can leave, and I won’t follow.”
Sam took a deep breath, which turned out to be a mistake. The smell of clean sweat filled him, impacting his senses like he’d just taken a shot of whiskey, really good, smooth whiskey which hit like a sledgehammer.
“I don’t have to go anywhere,” Sam protested. This was his workplace, after all, and he wasn’t going to let some stranger push him around. It had nothing to do with arousal, or with Sam being interested in guys like Gunner seemed to think. It was just that Sam was taking a stand. “You walk away …”
Whatever defiant thing he was going to say, Gunner stole from him, because the other man shifted forward, golden and graceful. They were touching then, their chests brushing together just slightly, and Sam felt his breath give a painful little hitch in his chest as he looked slightly down at the stranger. Gunner might be shorter than him, but he had all of the control right then, and they both knew it.
There were no more words, not then. Maybe there would be later, in fact, there almost certainly would be. For the moment, though, there was just Gunner, coming closer, and Sam, who had to admit to himself that he was not trying to retreat, not trying to stop what he knew was coming.
When their lips met, it was almost a surprise. Surely Gunner would back off before it actually happened? But he didn’t, and their lips brushed together, questioning, seeking, lips closed firmly and breath rapid as they tried this incredibly new, stupid thing out.
Their arms didn’t wind around each other. Their chests pressed close, and their lips touched, but that was it. The kiss was a surprisingly uncomplicated one, even though Sam could feel the rough stubble against his own cheek and knew very well that it was a man.
A man. He was kissing a man.
Gunner’s lips slowly parted, teasing Sam’s open as well, and Sam heard a soft, urgent little groan and didn’t know where it was coming from, at first. And then he realized it was from himself. He was making that noise, and not only that, but he was parting his lips and letting Gunner’s tongue sweep in, teasing at his own, tangling in a dance which his body seemed to know how to do, despite having never done it before. Not with a man, anyway.
It went on and on, neither of them breaking away from it. It was like they were both daring the other to pull away, but neither of them could make themselves. Sam felt something inside of himself, something which he’d held so tightly back, struggling to escape, and for a moment, he was tempted to let it out, to admit the horrible truth to himself.
He liked this. He was kissing a man, and he was very aware that it was a man, and yet he still wanted to do it. It still felt somehow like the most natural thing in the world, as easy as breathing.
The sound of the door opening had Sam pushing at Gunner’s strong shoulders and had Gunner springing away. Without a word, with his cheeks flaming and his heart pattering away in his chest and a tightness in the front of his pants that was hard to explain away, Sam grabbed the oil can and started to dump it into the oil tank.
“Okay, let’s take a look at this bike of yours,” Mike spoke, and to Sam, he already sounded far more cheerful than he had before. How long had he and Gunner been making out? Probably longer than it had seemed, if Mike had managed to cool down as much as he had.
Sam stayed silent, focusing entirely on the rest of the oil change, though Gunner had, truth to be told, done most of it, and better than Sam could have managed. He really did need to watch himself around this guy.
And not just because of his job, either. Gunner was a threat to a lot more than just Sam’s paycheck, considering that he could still remember the taste of his kiss, how it had felt to be so close to him, their mouths meshed together, breathing through each other.
Time passed, and Gunner stayed away, choosing to hang out with Mike, instead. Which really made a lot more sense than what had just happened, that searing kiss which had threatened to make Sam lose all sanity, all rationality.
Mike and Gunner were the same sort of person, and Sam was better off on his own. And yet, even when he’d finished the oil change, he didn’t sneak off into the other room to try to finish off his book while Mike was distracted. Instead, he started to clean up the shop, which Mike was always after him to do anyway. No time like the present.
“Well, the good news is, you haven’t trashed your whole damn engine,” Mike finally said, while Sam strained his ears and tried to tell himself that he wasn’t. “The bad news is, your crankshaft is damaged. I’m gonna need to get the part in.”
There was a long silence, and Sam let his eyes slip over sideways to try to see Gunner’s face. The man’s skin looked a little bit pale under his tan, Sam thought, but that really wasn’t any of his business.
“How much is that gonna set me back,” Gunner asked, and even though Sam wasn’t trying to listen, and he didn’t care anyway, he couldn’t help but wince a little in sympathy when the response came to that.
“About two grand. I’m sorry, son,” Mike spoke gently, or at least, more gently than the other man usually spoke, at least when he was talking to Sam. He seemed to like Gunner a hell of a lot more than he liked Sam. “If this was just some off of the lot bike, I would tell you that you’d be better off just buying a new one. As it is, I can give you a discount, but …”
His voice trailed off, and just then, a ringing sound came from the front office. The bell that announced someone was there chimed merrily, and when Sam glanced up at the clock on the wall, he was surprised to see that it was nearly five o’clock.
It was probably Isaac, and he went into the front to verify. At least he had the oil check done, so he wouldn’t have to deal with disappointing his brother’s husband on top of everything else.
But it wasn’t Isaac. It was much worse than that because while Isaac could be a pain in Sam’s ass, that wasn’t nearly as bad as what Sam’s big brother could do. The man who had saved Sam, and who Sam owned far too much, too, because of it, was standing in the front, peering around for him.
“Hey,” Sam said quietly, and then he couldn’t help but grin when he saw who was behind his big brother’s legs. A black, furry face grinned at him, as the black lab puppy bounded over to him, licking his hands.
At least there was something good about today, though that was just one more thing he owned his big brother, he supposed. Though that kiss, which still haunted Sam, it was hard to see that as entirely a bad thing.
