Complications (11 page)

He sank down with a soft “oof!” then rolled onto his stomach. Wished he had the energy to reach for a pillow, but he just lay there, not even opening his eyes when the mattress dipped, and Nick’s solid, familiar weight pressed against him. Then—
oh God
—those fingers closed over his neck and started kneading.

The knots and tension in his muscles fought back, bringing tortured moans to Eric’s lips. “It’s all right,” Nick whispered in his ear. “Just let go.” He waited for Eric to inhale a long, shuddery breath before he went back to work, his strong hands slowly working out the stiffness in Eric’s neck and shoulders.

Eventually the pain receded to a dull but not unpleasant ache, Eric’s mind going blissfully muzzy. Like falling asleep, except for the one stubborn part of him that insisted on waking up. He groaned, cracking open one eye. “I, um. . .”

“Want to get under the covers?” Nick rolled to his feet and helped Eric slide under the comforter, then started taking off his own clothes. Eric watched, grogginess ebbing away at the delectable sight of Nick’s smooth, bare skin. Regular workouts had helped him keep the sinewy heft of muscle from his university football days, though the past few years had left adorable crinkly lines around his eyes and mouth.

They’d been together over a decade, off and on. Good
God
.

Nick climbed into bed, eyes widening when Eric rolled over next to him, his rising erection nudging Nick’s hip. “I thought you were tired.”

“Caught my second wind.” He pressed a kiss to the underside of Nick’s jaw. His stubble scratched, but it felt good. When was the last time they’d seen each other? Three weeks? A month? Too fucking long. “Damn it, Nick, I’ve missed you.”

Nick’s breath puffed over his cheek, warm and rapid. “Me too.”

“Show me how much.”

So he did, with eager fingers and lips soft, moist and full of passion. He kissed a leisurely path down Eric’s torso, dusting love bites along the way. Eric had to choke back a cry of relief when Nick’s lush mouth finally closed over his cock and swallowed him down. He floated in bliss while Nick worked him with his lips and tongue, his technique endearingly enthusiastic. His memory spun back to the first time they’d ever done this, on that rickety couch in Nick’s loft one memorable weekend in their junior year of college. Eric had been so aroused he’d come within a few seconds.

But tonight it seemed Nick had other plans. Grasping Eric’s cock firmly at the root, he lifted his head, licking sticky precome from the corners of his mouth. “Fuck me, Eric.
Please
.”

He remembered the first time Nick had begged him like this, that same day at the loft. He hadn’t refused then, and he certainly wasn’t about to now. “On your stomach.”

Eric dug the supplies out of the nightstand while Nick tucked a pillow under his hips, his delectable round ass raised invitingly. Eric remembered the first time they’d done this, shifting and scrambling to make themselves comfortable on that creaky couch with broken springs poking them everywhere. He remembered the way Nick gasped and trembled the first time Eric had breached his hole with a pair of lube-slicked fingers, and his first muffled cry of surprise when Eric pushed inside him and began thrusting slowly, holding back his own surge of lust until Nick got used to the sensation of being opened and fucked.

Hands shaking, Eric rolled on a condom and applied a generous dollop of lube, then pressed the tip of his cock to Nick’s hole and eased inside. Still a perfect fit—silky-smooth and hot as a coal. Eric tried to take it easy, hands twisting in the covers to keep from thrusting too hard, but it was no use—when Nick started pushing back, urging him on, Eric’s last scrap of willpower dissolved. Moaning and groaning, they fucked like animals, every stroke shoving Nick up the bed, forcing him to grab the headboard with both hands. Eric held on—just barely—until Nick let out a strangled yelp, a shower of sparks going off behind his own eyes.   

He slumped against Nick’s sweat-soaked back, his vision still murky. Running his hand along Nick’s well-muscled forearm, he marveled—not for the first time—at how well they complemented each other, despite the obvious contrast of Nick’s solidly built ex-quarterback’s body with his own loose-limbed, slender frame.

Slow minutes ticked away, with Nick lying there beside him completely immobile, until a soft, familiar snore alerted Eric to the fact that he’d dropped off. Chuckling, he kissed Nick gently on the shoulder and got up to take a shower.

A few minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom to find Nick stirring groggily, raking damp, wavy bangs back from his forehead. He looked like a deliciously debauched angel. “Damn,” he mumbled. “Did I conk out again?”

“Only for a few minutes.” He climbed back in bed and propped himself up on a pile of pillows, trailing his fingers along Nick’s arm.

“It’s been one deadline after another these last few weeks. I think my editor’s trying to kill me.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He leaned in for a kiss. “You’re here now. Let’s enjoy it.”

Nick’s gaze flicked over his face. “So, um…when’s Ally coming back?”

Eric stifled a sigh. Couldn’t they have a few more minutes of contentment before the real world came crashing back in? “She’s in Milan till tomorrow, then she flies to Paris for the weekend. She should be home Monday night.”

“Sounds like fun. Wish I could get an overseas assignment.” Eric didn’t reply, other than sending out a silent plea for Nick to drop it. No such luck. “Look, why don’t you just tell her about us? Maybe she won’t even care. Barbara didn’t.”

The mention of his ex-wife gave Eric a sharp jolt. “Barbara never gave a damn what I did as long as I kept paying her credit card bills. But I think we’ve both known Allison long enough to know she won’t view the situation quite so pragmatically.”

“Why not? She’s got your name and your money, and your contacts got her that job with MSNBC. You only married her because she’d help your senatorial campaign. It’s not like you’re madly in love with each other.”

“But I am fond of her, and I wouldn’t like to see her hurt.” Never mind the fact that he’d promised her fidelity. The only promise she’d ever exacted from him, and how quickly he’d broken it.

“It’ll hurt her more the longer we wait. You know she’ll find out eventually.”

Maybe so, but he didn’t want to think about that now. He wrapped his arm around Nick’s shoulders and pulled him close, until he started snoring softly again. Eric was just about to drop off himself when he heard the familiar high-pitched chirp of his cell phone.

He considered ignoring it, until he looked at the clock. Closing in on ten, which meant it had to be Allison; she’d been calling him around this time every night. She’d be worried if he didn’t answer.

Nick slept like a boulder, so it didn’t take much effort to slide out from under him. Eric grabbed his phone from his pants pocket and crept down the hallway to the living room before hitting the answer button. “How’s Milan?”

“Still standing, but where were you? I’ve been trying to get hold of you for the past two hours.”

“I had a late dinner meeting.” Funny, but even after all the lies he’d told, the new ones still tore at him. “Are you enjoying fashion week?”

“Yeah, but it’d be a lot more fun if I didn’t have to interview all those airheaded models. If I never see another breast implant up close and personal, I’ll die happy. Oh, and I ordered you one of everything from the Prada men’s spring line.”

That was what he adored about her—no matter how tired or out of sorts he felt, she never failed to make him smile. “Didn’t you get anything for yourself?”

“A couple things from Versace, but I didn’t really see anything else I liked. I have high hopes for Paris, however.”

“You could visit Chanel again, or give Balmain a try. They’re more your style.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” There came a rustle of bedcovers. “Maybe next year we can make this trip together.”

“I’d like that.” And it was the truth, too. They’d had a great time when he’d taken her to Paris for their honeymoon. “But I should let you go. You don’t need to stay up so late just to talk to me. We’ll see each other in a few days.”

“No problem, I couldn’t sleep anyway. Damn jet lag.”

“Good night, Allison.”

“Good night,” she said softly. “I, I miss you.”

For a split second, he could’ve sworn she sounded positively wistful. “I miss you too,” he replied softly. “Get some rest.”

He hung up and went back to bed, but despite his lingering weariness, sleep didn’t come easily. It never did on evenings he spent with Nick. Was his conscience pricking at him? He’d often thought himself devoid of conscience; a man in his position could ill afford such a luxury.

Still, Allison didn’t deserve this. He’d meant to tell her about him and Nick, but the words clogged his throat every time he’d tried. He couldn’t bear the thought of seeing that special light in her eyes whenever she looked at him fade away forever.

Hence this apartment—and the awful, gnawing ache in his belly every time he told his wife another lie.

***

Nick heaved a sigh and hit
send
to email his last story to his editor. For once, he’d actually squeaked by with a few minutes to spare. He snagged his jacket off the back of his chair and dashed for the elevator. If he hurried, he might make it to the gym before the usual after-work horde descended.

He’d just punched the down button when he heard an all too familiar pair of heels tap-tapping in his direction. “Hey, Nick, wait up!” Holly Martin yelled, her brunette ponytail bobbing madly. She skidded to a halt beside him just as the elevator dinged. “Perfect timing, huh?”

Nick let her step in first, then jabbed the button for the lobby. Pals since their days at journalism school, he and Holly had worked stories together at the Herald on a regular basis. However, at times Nick found her excessive perkiness a bit hard to take—times like now, for instance.

“A bunch of us are going to O’Rourke’s for karaoke tonight,” she added, fumbling in her purse for a lipstick. “Want to come with?”

“No thanks, Hol.” Tapping his foot, he eyeballed the elevator panel as the floor numbers dropped in molasses-slow succession. “I’m not in such a great mood today.”

“Yeah, I noticed. That poor kid down in the mailroom almost started blubbering after you tore him a new one this morning. What’s wrong with you lately?”

“Nothing, other than my life sucks.”

She snorted. “Join the club.”

He’d planned to bolt as soon as they reached the lobby, but she snaked her arm through his and dragged him out the building’s front door to Starbucks. “I’m going to let you be a gentleman and buy me a coffee. Make it a half-caf nonfat vanilla latte, easy on the foam. I’ll grab us a table.” With that, she disappeared into the crowd gathered around the counter. Nick considered ditching her, if not for the earful he knew she’d give him tomorrow. He’d stay long enough to be polite, then make an excuse and duck out.

After waiting ten minutes for their drinks, he found her ensconced in a relatively quiet table near the back of the café. She let him set her coffee down, took a leisurely sip—and nailed him with an icy glare. “So, when did you and Eric get back together?”

“Jesus!” He gave such a start, he almost dumped his own piping-hot cup of French roast in his lap. “How’d you know?”

“Oh, c’mon, Nick. After all these years, I recognize the signs. The two of you go on and off more often than a fridge light. What possessed you to take up with him again this time?”

“You think I haven’t asked myself that question every damn day?”

“At least you’re consistent.” Sighing, she pushed her cup away. “I hate seeing you do this to yourself. Last year you had a perfect opportunity to put this all behind you for good. Why didn’t you take it?”

He swallowed hard, choking back his words, until he realized he didn’t want to. He needed someone to talk to about this. Keeping it bottled up inside was driving him insane. “I thought about it, Hol, I really did. When Laura kept pressing me to set the date, part of me wanted to go through with it. We could’ve had a good life, moving back upstate to take over the farm like my folks wanted us to, but…” God, he couldn’t believe how pathetic he sounded. “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t marry her, not feeling the way I do about Eric. I would’ve made us both miserable.”

“Then what’re you going to do? Spend the rest of your life sitting at home with cold pizza and ESPN, waiting for Eric to make another booty call?”

As if he didn’t feel cheap enough already. “Thanks a lot,” he snapped.

“Nick, c’mon, I didn’t mean—”

“I can’t help it. I love Eric. I’ve always loved him. I wish I could just switch it off, but I can’t.” He caught the skeptical glint in her eyes, his jaw going tight. “I know what you’re thinking. I’m being a first-class chump, right? Go ahead, say it.”

She sighed. “Don’t be silly. Loving someone doesn’t make you a chump, but I still don’t get why you’re so willing to let Eric shuffle you aside like you don’t even matter.”

“You don’t know him the way I do, Hol. And believe me, just because Eric grew up rich doesn’t mean his life’s been all caviar and roses. He had a pretty awful childhood. His father treated him and his mom like crap.” He downed a long sip of coffee. “I always knew we’d never have a happily-ever-after, especially after he announced his bid for the senate. He’s got his sights set on the White House, and a gay lover’s not going to help him get there. I tried to keep my distance, I really did. For months I tried. But it was like somebody had hacked out a chunk of my heart.” Another sigh. “So it’s either seeing him an hour or two every couple weeks or nothing.”

Her expression softened—but whether in empathy or pity, he couldn’t tell. “I hope Eric’s grateful to have you. I’ve never known anyone as loyal.”

“You make me sound like the family dog.”

“Well, you’d best grow some teeth, because if Ally gets a whiff of this, she’ll go after you like a pit bull on a pant leg.”

A chill swept over him. That was something he’d rather not think about.

***

Ally peered out the window as her plane taxied up to the gate at JFK. After the last ten nonstop days, she was so tired she had a hard time hauling herself to her feet when the
fasten seat belt
sign clicked off. She trudged up the jetway, stopping dead when she saw Eric waiting for her at the gate, a bouquet of white roses in hand.