Ice Man (12 page)

Tac and Rowan had history and with the club connection, they remained close.

“Do you want to come to the club?”

Fuck, it seemed to take Brett forever to answer. Rowan’s heart raced and his head pounded. How long was he supposed to be able to keep this up? Work—work was a lie. Yes, he bartended, but he didn’t have to work every night. His only daily obligation was feeding Theron. His only daily desire was to be with Brett. The proverbial rock and hard place, for him, was two men.

“Whatever this was,” Brett said referring to the argument. “This has nothing to do with your job. You’re brilliant at what you do.”

“I told you, I’m not fucking anyone. Especially not Tac.” He put his hand on Brett’s thigh. “Come to the club tonight. Around nine. Falcon and Ten should be working. I’ll be able sneak away.” He lowered his voice. “You’ve fulfilled my fantasies, so let me fulfill one of yours.”

“Which one? I have several.”

Rowan didn’t care as long as he could prove to Brett and anyone at the club—Theron—whom he wanted. “Come tonight and I’ll ask for a night away from the club.”

“Bribery?”

“I’ll use blackmail if I have to.”

“Then I’ll come.”

Oh, Rowan could promise that. “Nine o’clock.”

“I’ll be there.”

* * * * *

Brett kept his eyes on the clock. The hours dragged. He’d called and checked in with both kids. Both were fine and told him all of Karen’s latest. And he’d told them his. His stomach jumped again. Then he smiled. Warmth flushed his face. He hadn’t known how he’d feel about telling the kids he’d met someone but then when chatting with Jennifer the truth had slipped out. He had met someone and suddenly he didn’t care if the world knew. And if the world was in on his secret personal life, the kids needed to know. So there he’d sat, grinning like an idiot as he explained to his daughter about Rowan. He still grinned, although the conversation was a bit more strained with Daniel. His son would most assuredly tell his mother but Brett didn’t give a shit what Karen thought.

He had a right to be happy and being with Rowan felt damn good. He thought about the club and the garb that many of the men wore. Rowan looked hotter than hell in his chains and leather. Brett had never felt the freedom to explore that side of kink. He’d been content to enjoy his partners’ play, but in his newfound openness, he wanted gear of his own. Nothing too outlandish or for wear at the club. He wanted private stock. Cuffs, straps, plugs and paddles. And he wanted one of those swings that hung in the Silver Showers room.

He crossed to his desk. He doubted butt plugs would be in the yellow pages. Internet shopping would be easier but he didn’t want to wait. When he brought Rowan home tonight, he wanted to meet all his needs. Until a month ago, Rowan played exclusively in the fetish world. Brett shared his enthusiasm but lacked the experience, having only the occasional encounter. He’d be ready when Rowan initiated him into the lifestyle.

Well hell, there was a sex boutique a few blocks away. He glanced at the clock again. He had more than enough time. Brett changed his clothes and headed out. On his way, he stopped in the lobby and spoke with the doorman. The building kept a list of regular visitors, individuals who didn’t require authorization for admittance.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Kirsch.”

“Hello, Glen. I think it’s time to add Rowan Huntington to that list of yours.”

The man smiled, his gray mustache bouncing. “Very good, sir.”

* * * * *

Nearly two hours later, Brett returned home with loaded arms. Creams, warming gels, nipple and cock clamps, neoprene restraints and a blindfold. He’d dropped a fortune but his balls hummed with anticipation. He’d purchased the one item that was bound to spike Rowan’s temperature. Brett had felt hot since seeing it in the Silver Showers room. Depending on how complicated the installation, that swing would be anchored in the ceiling tonight before he left for the club.

He said hello to Glen on his way to the elevator. His palms sweated, holding the bags. Finally he entered his condo, dropped his keys on the hall table and jogged upstairs with his purchases. He unloaded everything on the bed. He dug through the contents and picked up the sterling silver Darby-style restraining collar similar to the one he’d seen worn in the club. Rowan wasn’t one to strut around as property but here in this bed there was no confusion on who preferred to submit. Rowan loved to please. Brett was determined to show Rowan as much pleasure as he received, even if he had to use the locking metal link on the front of the collar to tether him to the bed.

Brett cleared out the top drawer in the nightstand. It was enough that his housekeeper had to wash his cum-stained sheets and dusted under their lube and condoms. He wouldn’t have her polishing this steel and metal. He left the swing on the bed and glanced up. This wasn’t simply popping a hole in the ceiling and hanging the chair. This was for rough, aggressive sex and swinging softly while making love. He needed the main support beam to the apartment. Fuck. He needed maintenance for this. Great. He could imagine the conversation.
Can you come help me install my fuck swing? I’m making a sex playground for my lover and I don’t want us to break my ass while I’m pounding his.

Good thing he’d decided to step out of the closet, right into the community spotlight. The condo association would love this.

He laughed. Hell, that’s why he paid high condo fees to live in this place. He picked up the phone and dialed Glen downstairs. “I need maintenance.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I need a stud finder.” Glen might want to make a joke but he wouldn’t. His soft chuckle said enough.

Money talked. Ten minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Brett let in a man wearing blue coveralls and carrying a toolbox. “Glen said you had an emergency. Got a leaky faucet?”

“No, I wouldn’t say it classifies as an emergency. More along the lines of a personal need.” He led him up the stairs to the loft bedroom. He paused at the threshold of the room. “I want to hang that,” he pointed to the swing lying on the bed, “in front of the window. I want to see the skyline, while I…while I…when sitting in the swing.” He’d disposed of the box but the contraption spoke for itself.

The maintenance man scratched his head, walked to the windows and glanced at the ceiling. “Yeah, I can see what you mean. This time of year, the stars are so bright. Wouldn’t do to wait until tomorrow.” He chuckled, muttering about his wife being just as impulsive. “We can get this done. Give me about a half hour.” He set his tools on the carpet.

“If you have everything you need—” He didn’t know his name.

“Stan, and no, I’m fine.” He waved him out of the room. “Go about your business. I’d say I get calls for this all the time but this is a first.” He laughed and went to work.

Brett grabbed a shower while the maintenance man installed his swing. He shaved, ran a bit of gel through his hair and splashed on cologne. He tugged on the same jeans. He didn’t want to bother Stan by going back into the bedroom. Instead he went downstairs, booted up the computer and checked his email.

A few minutes later, Stan lumbered down the stairs. “All done.”

Brett smiled, unable to contain the flash of pleasure tightening his balls and stiffening his cock. He’d have Rowan in that swing tonight. “Thank you.”

“Yep.”

Brett walked him to the door. Once he was gone, he sprinted up the stairs. He stepped into the room. Perfect. The loft was large and open. Now rather than the club, this was their personal playground.

He changed his clothes, checked the time and headed out. Rowan had specifically said nine. Brett would grab a drink and watch him work until his break. The Audi weaved through traffic. Stereo music filled the interior. Brett tapped out a rhythm on the steering wheel. Several minutes later, he parked, walked to the recessed entrance and entered his member code. The door buzzed and he sauntered into the club.

The night was still early and the crowd thin. He smiled, said hello and made his way to the bar. Music pumped through the speakers and pounded through his body. Muted lighting created shadowed corners and seductive allure. Brett’s heart raced and his cock hardened. Rowan wasn’t behind the counter. Maybe he wouldn’t have to kill an hour until nine. Hitching a hip onto the barstool, he said hello to the man Rowan had called Ten. Brett couldn’t resist a quick glance at his groin. Damn, he loved cock. Which was why he was here.

“What can I get you?” Ten wiped his hands on a towel.

“Rowan. Is he around?”

Another man laughed. “I hope not.”

“Ignore Falcon.” Ten and Falcon enjoyed a private laugh. “Let’s just say he’s busy right now.”

“And hope he stays busy for a while.” The man named Falcon roared with raucous laughter. Brett didn’t know what was so fucking funny but didn’t like the wave of unease churning through his gut.

“I’ll take a beer while I wait for him. Corona.”

Ten set the beer in front of him. “It might be a while. He doesn’t usually come up until closer to nine.”

Come up from where?
“Thanks.”

Falcon juggled a bottle but without the precision skills Rowan possessed.

Brett pivoted on the barstool and watched men slowly filter into the club. He tried to sip his beer but with each passing minute, his concern mounted. He glanced at his watch for the hundredth time.

Not sure when, but sometime in the past few minutes he’d begun to realize something wasn’t right. Instinct kicked in. He spun on his chair.

“Ready for another?”

“No, do you know where he is?”

“Yes, but it’s a private area of the club. He’s with the owner.” Ten winked.

Brett swallowed the excess saliva in his mouth, almost afraid to ask more questions. “Tac. I don’t suppose their relationship is business only.” He chuckled as if he were in on the joke, rather than the butt of it.

“No, I wouldn’t suppose.” Ten moved down the bar to help another patron.

Brett was sick. His stomach clenched and sweat broke along his brow. A muscle in his jaw ached from gnashing his teeth. He swallowed but the lodged lump wouldn’t budge. He didn’t want to believe it. No, Rowan hadn’t been able to fake his feelings. He was still secretive about the club but Brett refused to think he’d lied in order to hide his activities, that it was because he hadn’t stopped seeing—fucking—Tac.

Falcon dipped glasses into a sink for washing. “Look,” he nodded toward the left. “Here they come.”

Time moved in slow motion. Brett shifted his gaze.
No
. Pressure squeezed the breath from his lungs. Rowan smiled, laughed—lied. Brett’s mouth dried at the sight of his bare torso—not pleasantly but with sickening dread. Rowan casually carried his shirt. Brett slid from the stool, not sure his weakened knees would hold him.

Rowan paused, eyes locking on Brett. Color drained from his face. Tac laughed, not realizing anything was wrong. His arm wrapped possessively around Rowan’s shoulders. They were unmistakably together.

Brett stumbled. Pain knifed through his chest. Betrayed, deceived, manipulated. God, he was such an ass. He’d believed him. Trusted him. Heat scorched his eyes but he’d be damned before he’d show how much it hurt—scarring him to his core. An oppressive heaviness seized his vitals with the likes of nothing he’d ever felt before. He couldn’t breathe. His heart hurt—a fierce gripping pain as if his guts were being wrung from the inside. He had to get out of there. Now, before he doubled over.

Rowan shoved away from Tac and started across the room.

Brett spun away and headed for the door. His hands fisted, ready to strike. He had to get away. Only his legs weren’t communicating with his head. Fuck, his head wasn’t thinking at all. He was numb.

“Please, Brett, let me explain.” Rowan’s voice pierced the fog in his mind but all Brett heard were more lies. “Stop, Brett.”

In all the years of marriage, he hadn’t felt like this. When would he learn? He should have stayed with the plan. No commitments, no expectations, no letdown. He had nothing to believe in. Relationships were built on lies. No one wanted forever. He sure as fuck hadn’t. Not until now—until Rowan.

“Brett, wait.”

“Fuck off.” He didn’t dare look over his shoulder.

Rowan grabbed his arm. His touch was electric. Brett closed his eyes and shut off his emotions. He wasn’t going to feel anything, not even the pain.

“Can we talk?”

Brett shook his head. “No, all we could do is fuck.” He lifted his head and stared into Rowan’s green eyes, refusing to see anything but betrayal. “There was no meaning in the sex we had. I’m just a piece of ass.” He snorted. “And obviously not good enough to keep you happy.”

“You’re wrong,” Rowan said with passion.

“Yeah, I know. I thought you gave a shit. Well, fuck me.” He jerked away and glanced back at Tac. “Or better yet, fuck him.”

He slammed his palm against the door and walked out into the darkened night.

Rowan stood rooted to the spot. He’d left. He’d fucking walked away. Knots twisted in his gut. He slowly spun toward Theron. “He’s gone.”

The vampire cautiously approached. “I don’t want to say anything until I know how you feel about it.”