Nothing Between Us (12 page)

“I fuck you right here where Keats will absolutely hear everything from the kitchen.” He nuzzled his teeth against her collarbone and bit gently.

She gasped softly.

“Tell me to stop, Georgia. And I’ll let you go.”

—

The word was a perfectly easy one to say. It was right there on her lips.
Stop.
She wouldn’t even have to take in a breath to say it. But with him kissing her neck like that and the feel of his erection rubbing exactly where she needed it, she couldn’t find it in herself to say it.
Keats will hear.
That was a guarantee. She could hear him fiddling around in the kitchen, probably eating his dinner.

The thought only made the ache between her thighs burn hotter. Colby sucked her earlobe between his lips and teased it.
“God.”

“That doesn’t sound like
stop
,” Colby mused.

“We could go in your room.”

“Not an option I gave you,” he said, that tone coming into his voice. The one he’d used in the fantasy. The one she’d imagined when she couldn’t hear what was being said on his side of the window. “Take off your jeans.”

“Colby . . .”

“Is that
stop
?”

“No,” she whispered.

“I know you’re still wet for me,” he said against her ear. He cupped her through her jeans. “I can feel the heat of you. And I should be patient. I promised myself I wouldn’t rush anything. But I’m also not a liar. I want you. Right now. Here. I want to fuck you hard and fast, and I don’t care who hears it.”

Jesus.
If she ever had any doubt about if she could appreciate dirty talk, she had her answer. Phillip had always gone for the sweet and romantic words, the flattering ones. Once upon a time, she’d thought that was what she should want. A gentleman who told her loving things. But right now, filth was working like wildfire. Her whole body burned with the need to be touched, her nipples beading against her bra and her panties clinging to her.

Her body was taking over her brain, saying,
Fuck it all
. The nerves. The worry. The concern about who could and couldn’t hear them. None of it mattered right now. She scooted off him, stood, and tugged off her jeans.

He watched her every move, his gaze hooded, hungry. When she’d shucked the jeans, he touched the edge of her black panties. She’d worn one of the few sexy pairs she still owned. Even if she hadn’t planned on it, her subconscious must have been hoping for this when she’d gotten dressed to come over here. “Keep these on.”

“Okay.”

He reached behind him, opened the end table drawer, and pulled out a foil wrapper. She wondered if he had condoms stored in every drawer around the house. With the kinds of parties she’d seen over here, probably. He shifted on the couch and unbuttoned his jeans, pushing them down along with his underwear just enough. His cock sprang free—hard and ruddy and already glistening at the tip.

Her belly clenched low and tight. She’d seen him naked from afar, but in person, he was even more impressive. The man was big all over. She wanted to wrap her hand around that proud erection, lick it . . . freaking worship it. The urge took her aback. Never before had she had such a primal desire to get to her knees for the sole purpose of making a man feel good.

Colby’s gaze flared with dark need. “I like the way you’re looking at me, gorgeous. One day soon, I’ll let you do exactly what your eyes are promising. But right now, I need to be inside you. Straddle me.”

She shivered at the command and climbed on top. She had no idea why she still had her panties on, but after he rolled on the condom, she wasn’t left wondering for long.

He tugged the crotch of her underwear aside and ran his fingers along her slick folds. “If a certain someone walks in, you’ll be able to cover up quickly if you want.”

If she wanted . . . like it was a decision. But the more she pictured the possibility, the more she realized maybe it was her choice. Maybe he truly didn’t care if they screwed out in the open. The guy had let her watch him for months. “You’re a filthy, filthy man.”

He gave her a solemn nod and teased her clit with a maddening stroke. “I am. Still want me?”

“Hell, yes.”

He held her panties aside, positioned himself at her entrance, and started to ease inside.
Oh, Jesus.
Her nails dug into his shoulders, and she hummed as the sweet sting of the breach skipped along her nerve endings. It had been so long since she’d been with anyone, and though she had toys at home, none were Colby’s size. Her body seemed to fight and beg all at once.

“Easy, now,” Colby said in that low, cajoling voice, his fingers tucked between them, working her clit. “There’s no rush. Relax and take me in slowly. You feel so good, baby, but I don’t want to hurt you.”

She pressed her forehead to his and concentrated on softening the tension in her body, on letting his beautiful, hard heat inside her. She was slick for him, so her nerves were the only thing fighting her. She was getting too in her head.

He gripped her hip, kneading the curve. “You know how fucking sexy you look right now. These panties shoved to the side like you were so in a hurry to get fucked, you couldn’t even bother to take them off. And you’re so wet against me. Look down and see us.”

She glanced down along the scant space between their bodies, and he moved his hand away so she could see their connection—that perfect carnal joining. The tightness in her muscles melted, and she took him the rest of the way ever so slowly, finally seating him deep.

He groaned and tipped his head back. “Fuck, yes.”

She was making her own sounds, lost in the feeling of being filled and stretched. By Colby. She was with
Colby
. Part of her wondered if she’d really fallen into some erotic dream and she’d wake up in her house in a few minutes—cold and alone.

Colby found her hot button again, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. The noise in the kitchen had stopped. Keats either had bailed or was listening. She should probably be as discreet as possible. But when Colby began to pump into her, she couldn’t stay quiet.

“That’s it,” Colby said. “Ride me. Take what you’ve been wanting when you watched. Did you think about what my cock would feel like inside you?”

“Yes,” she said on a pant.

“Good. Because I sure as hell thought about how you would feel,” he said, his deep voice going gravelly. “How you would taste. What you would sound like when you beg. How this perfect ass is going to feel under my hand when I take you over my knee.”

She moaned, already close again.

“I can’t wait to see you surrender,” he said, a little breathless because now there was no more slow and easy. The couch springs protested beneath them. He was fucking her hard and deep and fast, gripping her hip and guiding her pace, each thrust punctuating his words. All the pent-up months of watching and being watched careening together in one desperate act between them.

“Yes.
God.
” She shuddered, barely holding back her orgasm, as he circled her clit with a rough fingertip.

He smiled against her sweaty neck. “No need to call me God.
Sir
or Colby will do.”

She would’ve snorted had she not been so far gone. But there was nothing that was going to derail her now. The slap of her skin against his filled her ears, and their mingled scents—sex and sweat and soap—were invading her senses like a drug. “Colby . . .”

“Come for me, gorgeous. Let it go and let me feel you come around my cock.”

That was all it took. Sexy, beastly man plus dirty words equaled an impossible mix to resist. Her hands went to his head, gripping his hair in her fists, and she came with a sharp, shaking cry. He followed right with her, apparently a master of control in all aspects, and held her tight as he pumped deep through his release.

The gruff, grunting noises he made were quite possibly the sexiest damn things she’d ever heard in her life.
Goddamn.

This was so much better on this side of the glass.

And it was probably going to be a mistake. She already knew that. He and his proclivities were probably going to be more than she could handle once they really slipped into the dominant and submissive roles. But there was no way she was turning back now.

She’d seen his version of wonderland and now she wanted a season pass.

Keats was chewing his thumbnail to a ragged edge at the kitchen table. His enchiladas sat cold and uneaten in front of him.

They’d fucked in the goddamned living room,
knowing
he could hear. Were they trying to kill him? Or maybe they didn’t care that he’d basically been forced to listen. Maybe he was so insignificant that it didn’t even matter that he was right here. He should’ve been pissed. Instead, his body had only gotten hotter. When he’d heard Georgia’s breathy cries and Colby’s hot-as-fuck groans, he’d gotten so hard, he’d almost taken his dick in his hand right there in the kitchen. Fucking torture, that was what it was.

To distract himself from what he was hearing and his body’s unrelenting reaction to it, he’d grabbed his phone from his bag to check messages. He didn’t leave it on most of the time since it was one of those prepaid deals, and he didn’t want to waste minutes on bullshit. But when he’d powered it up, he had multiple messages from Aaron, the manager of the Texas Star, saying that if he didn’t bring money over by midnight, he was throwing Keats’s shit out and giving the room to someone else.

Keats didn’t have a lot, but what he did have was important to him. He couldn’t afford to have it tossed in the Dumpster. Plus, he’d left his beat-up but well-loved motorcycle in one of the parking spots, and he had no doubt Aaron would have that towed when he realized it belonged to Keats.

Goddammit. He needed to get over there—and out of
here
. He checked the time on the microwave clock. Things got quiet out in the living room for a while and then he heard a door shut. Colby strolled in, looking tousled and a little smug. The back of Keats’s neck burned hot, but he tried his best to look nonchalant.

“She’s gone?” Keats asked, his knee bouncing beneath the table.

Colby turned his back to him to open the oven and grab the casserole dish Keats had left on warm. “Yeah, I walked her back to her place.”

“She can still walk?” he asked, trying to play off how damn affected he was.

Colby’s smile was wry. “Can you?”

Keats frowned and adjusted his jeans, unsure how to handle this version of Colby. He was used to the stoic, always-in-control version. The teacher. Mr. Responsible. But besides his accidental spying last night, he’d never been privy to this private side of Colby—the sexual side. The man.

Getting a peek behind the curtain felt like a secret privilege. He’d wanted Colby to stop treating him like some innocent kid, and Colby had definitely listened. But the shift was damn disconcerting. Because though Keats’s brain didn’t know how to process all the new information, his body certainly had ideas on how to respond.

Keats cleared his throat. “That was a dick move, man.”

Colby sniffed. “Kind of like eavesdropping on me and a woman in my own house?”

“Dude, I said I was sorry. You could’ve just told me off or kicked my ass for walking in on you and Georgia. You didn’t need to torture me with ringside seats to the show.”

“You could’ve gone to your room. You wouldn’t have had to listen to a thing.”

Keats blinked. That option had never occurred to him. Hell, who was he kidding? A herd of charging elephants wouldn’t have been able to drive him out of that kitchen.

Colby spooned a serving of enchiladas onto his plate and turned around with a knowing look. “For what it’s worth, I didn’t do it to torment you. I let you listen because it turned her on.”

That sent Keats’s thoughts careening in an entirely different direction—straight toward Georgia. He leaned forward on his elbows. “Seriously?”

Colby gave him a shrug that seemed to say,
Hey, my girl is a kinky sex goddess. What can I do?

“Fuck. Me.” If Keats had a spark for Georgia before, it was now a full-fledged crush. “Well, if my torture did it for her, then I guess I don’t mind a little suffering on her behalf.”

Colby cocked his head, studying him for a second. “Quite self-sacrificing there, Keats.”

He shrugged and pushed his food around on his plate. “When it comes to a beautiful woman enjoying herself, there’s not much I wouldn’t be willing to do.”

Colby took a bite of enchiladas, watching him with analytical eyes. “That must make you popular.”

“I do all right,” he said, unable to hold Colby’s gaze. Sometimes it felt like the guy was looking right inside him, seeing all the crossed wires and short circuits. He went back to not eating his food. After a few quiet minutes of rearranging his plate, Keats pushed the enchiladas away. “I need you to drive me back home tonight.”

Colby set down his plate. “You just promised Georgia you’d be here tomorrow.”

Keats rubbed his palms on his thighs, guilt nipping at him. The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint Georgia, but what was there to gain by hanging around here longer? Disappointment, that’s what. Colby and Georgia had lives that existed in another realm from his—and they were obviously starting a relationship. No matter how much Keats pretended, this wasn’t his place. Sure, Colby would let him stay for a few weeks, but it wasn’t like his life was magically going to change because he had a nicer roof over his head. Before long, Colby would grow tired of having a guest. He’d want to fuck his hot girlfriend on the couch without worrying about someone barging in and gawking.

Tonight, when Keats had first walked in on them, he’d been knocked over with the desire to go over there and be a part of something that erotic and intense. Georgia had looked goddamned beautiful stretched out and sighing into the fantasy. And Colby’s words, the pictures he’d painted . . . Keats’s blood had rushed straight south, those images of bondage and roughness making him flushed and instantly hard. He’d closed his eyes to see it all. And for a few seconds, his mind had fooled him into thinking that maybe he belonged there with them. Like the moment was a shared one. But, of course, it’d been a ridiculous thought. If he’d learned anything in his life so far, it was that he’d always be the outsider. That conclusion had been confirmed when Colby and Georgia had kicked him out and had gone on to have sex while he was there in the kitchen. He’d been a prop at best, an intruder at worst.

No, he didn’t belong here. This wasn’t his life.

“I’ll try to come by. But I have to get back tonight or they’re going to toss my stuff out. I need to give them the rent.”

“You don’t need to give them anything. You don’t have to stay there at all. I told you there’s a room here you can use.”

“And I told you I don’t want a handout.”

“This isn’t charity. It’s a friend helping a friend.”

Keats scoffed and pushed back from the table to stand. “Friends? Come on, Colby, that’s not what we are. You see me as some debt that needs to be paid off to erase a mark on your conscience. A mistake to fix.”

Colby closed his eyes and rubbed the spot between his eyebrows. Keats had seen him do that so many times in the classroom, especially when Keats kept screwing up his chords sophomore year, but that seemed like a lifetime ago now. Two different people. “Keats.”

“Look, man.” He stepped in front of him, but Colby didn’t open his eyes. “Stop putting that shit on yourself. You were the best teacher I had and the only person who gave a damn about me back then. When I left that note for my dad and stole his gun from him that night, I fully planned on ending things.” Colby looked up at that, flinching. “But I couldn’t help going to you first. And there you were, the shining example of what I could never seem to measure up to—the ‘real man,’ the kind every woman wanted and no dude would challenge in a fight. It was what my dad always wished I would be.”

Colby made a disgusted sound, making his opinion of Keats’s father quite clear.

“But when you admitted you were bi, it was like giving the ultimate finger to my father and all the people who thought like him. You didn’t fit in the mold. You played music. You were creative. And you didn’t give a shit if people knew you fucked guys.”

“Yes, that was exceptionally appropriate to admit to one of my students,” he said darkly.

“It was what I needed to hear,” Keats replied. “And yeah, I took it too far when I tried something with you, but that’s on me. A stupid kid making a stupid mistake. So whatever guilt you’re holding on to, let it the fuck go. The reason why I didn’t put a gun to my head that night was because of you. You showed me that not everyone has to fit into a certain box. That a real man is one who lives life on his own terms. And that’s what I’ve been doing since. So stop feeling like you need to take me in like a stray pet.”

Colby’s jaw flexed. “It’s not like that.”

“Good,” Keats said with a nod. “Then you should have no problem giving me a ride to my place and letting me get back to my life. Like a friend.”

Colby eyed him like he wanted to grab him and shake him, but instead he let out a long breath as if steeling himself against the urge. “I’ll bring you home. But you’re coming back tomorrow to hear Georgia out. I won’t have her disappointed. You understand?”

The tone in his voice reminded Keats of the way he’d issued commands to Georgia in the fantasy, and it made something low in his gut twist. He rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off the feeling. “You got it, Teach.”

“And stop calling me that.” He pushed away from the counter and grabbed his keys off a hook by the back door. “After what you witnessed tonight, I’d rather not be reminded that I used to be your teacher.”

Keats shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to fight the grin. Looked like Mr. Responsible was surfacing again and regretting how much he’d allowed Keats to see tonight. But no way was Keats letting Colby hop behind that line in the sand again. “Yeah, you probably prefer
sir
, or is it
master
?”

Colby peered over his shoulder with a don’t-push-it expression.

“What?” Keats asked innocently.

Colby grumbled and tucked his wallet into his back pocket. “Well, now I know how long you stood in the hallway.”

Keats grabbed his bag and guitar case from the table and slung the former over his shoulder. “So do you really, you know, go there?”

“Go there?” Colby was on the move, heading toward the front of the house, obviously wanting to be done with this conversation. Keats followed him, knowing he didn’t have the right to ask the questions but too damn curious not to.

“I mean, was that just a fantasy game or is that how you are with women?”

Colby looked tired when he sank onto the couch to pull on his boots. “It’s how I am with anyone who’s in my bed.”

“Oh.” Right. With men, too. At that, unbidden images leaked into his brain. “So like a dom or whatever it’s called?”

He’d watched porn. He wasn’t completely unaware of that subculture.

Colby sniffed and stood. “Let’s go, Keats. It’s getting late. And the only people I discuss my sex life with are those who are part of it. So unless you’re making a pass at me, I suggest you stop talking and get in the damn truck.”

Keats’s jaw snapped together.

Colby smirked as he passed him on his way to the door. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Fuck.
Keats ignored the flush of heat that brought to his face and followed him out the door.

Yeah, forget the questions. The sooner he got out of here, the better. Being around Colby Wilkes was a fucking hazard.

—

Colby was in a truly foul mood by the time his truck rolled to a stop in front of the Texas Star Motel—or actually the
Texas tar Motel
since the fluorescent
S
had burned out. Two overly made-up women—one with thigh-high boots and the other wearing a spandex dress three sizes too small—were smoking cigarettes under the Vacancy sign, probably taking a break in between johns. On the curb in front of the office, a homeless man was muttering to himself and plucking at his pants.

“This is where you’re staying?” Colby asked, fingers tightening on the steering wheel.

Keats pushed his hair behind his ears, his face more drawn than it had been a few moments before. “It’s cheap and they usually aren’t dicks if I’m a day late on paying. Other places would’ve already purged my room.”

“Fuck, Keats, you said you had a place to stay.”

His expression hardened. “I do. It’s here while I’m saving up for something more permanent.”

“You can’t—”

But Keats was already pulling the door handle and climbing out. “Thanks for everything. I’ll stop by tomorrow to talk to Georgia.”

“Kea—”

The door slammed.

Hardheaded bastard. Colby hadn’t had a door shut in his face in a long damn time. He hit the button to roll down the window. He wanted to yell at Keats and demand he get his ass back in the truck. But he stopped himself just short. He knew how that would go. Keats was an adult and had made up his mind. The only comfort was that he believed Keats would keep his word to Georgia.

He watched Keats’s retreating form until something blocked his view. One of the smoking women leaned along his open window, gave him an appraising look, and offered a sure-thing smile. “Ooh, you’re a big one, aren’t ya? Looking for a date, cowboy?”

He wanted to bark at her for interfering with his view, but he managed to hold his tongue. No hooker was walking the streets because she wanted to be there. The therapist in him could rewind and see the broken life behind her. So he forced his tone into an easy but clear one. “No thanks, you’re not my type, darlin’.”

She tilted her head then looked back over her shoulder toward where Keats had gone. She turned back and winked. “Oh, I got ya. Wish I could’ve seen that, cowboy. Yowza.”

She gave his window a little tap and strolled back to join her friend. Keats had disappeared from view.
Motherfuck.

Colby leaned over the steering wheel, trying to see farther into the lot, but there was no one there. The homeless man was ambling over to Colby’s truck, obviously intent on preaching his crazy-speak to another. Colby wasn’t in the mood. With a frustrated grunt, he put the car into gear and pulled out of the lot. This wasn’t his business.
Keats
wasn’t his business.

This was just residual angst about feeling responsible for the kid Keats used to be. That was all this was. He’d offered to help and it wasn’t wanted. What more could he do? He pressed a button on his steering wheel, activating his phone, and called a number he’d only programmed tonight.