Nothing Between Us (17 page)

He didn’t rush, even though she would’ve been perfectly fine with that, but he wasn’t purposely torturing her anymore. He was enjoying himself, sinking in deep and taking her with full, savoring glides. This part was about him, based on the gruff, pleased sounds he was making, and she was along for the ride. The hair-curling, sexy-as-hell ride.

“You look so fucking hot bound in my rope and spread around my cock,” Colby said, his twang getting heavier the closer to release he got. He ran a finger over her back entrance as he pumped into her harder. The touch was like a bolt of lightning straight through her. “I’m going to take you here one day, too. I want every part of you, Georgia. I want to find out every button that makes you moan like that.”

The words, his cock pumping into her, and him touching her there were too much. A powerful wave was building inside her, ready to take her down.

“Let go, baby,” he said, reaching around with his other hand and finding her clit. “Come for me.”

She would’ve even if he hadn’t said it was okay. It was too much to hold back. She cried out as everything in her burst through like sunshine piercing a thousand tiny windows. Her neck arched and she shrieked with the rush of it all, the sheer pleasure. Colby let out a shout behind her, thrusting deep and flattening her to the bed as he found his own release.

She melted into the sheets, floating in a haze, her body still contracting with aftershocks, and closed her eyes.

It was
so
much better on this side of the window.

Too bad she wouldn’t be able to stay.

Colby’s eyes burned from lack of sleep as he lifted his chin above the bar in his garage/workout room. Last night he’d been exhausted when he’d gotten back into bed after walking Georgia home, but he’d tossed and turned, waking up every hour on the hour. Last night had been great. Beyond great. But Georgia’s leaving had left him unsettled. He understood why she needed to be back at her place. And it wasn’t like it was a requirement for him. He rarely had lovers spend the night. But when he’d gotten back from Georgia’s, his bed had felt damn empty.

Being with her last night had felt more right than anything had in a long time. He’d started out keeping it focused on exploring some of her boundaries, almost making it like one of his beginner training sessions. Fun and sexy but clinical in a way. That was what he was used to. But once he’d gotten her into his bedroom and had seen that she’d written no numbers down, everything had shifted. Something about Georgia made him feel more dialed in, more present. Even the mild kink they’d done had felt more intense than any of the extreme stuff he’d practiced at The Ranch lately.

Plus, those moments in the kitchen when he had her under his hand, knowing she knew Keats was listening. Well, it’d added a layer that Colby hadn’t been able to ignore. He’d felt like he was getting a taste of what he’d been starving for over the last few months. And it was all temporary.

Temporary. Like his job might be. Like his whole life might be right now.

He’d finally given up hope for sleep around six this morning and had gotten up to get some things done. First, he’d called Principal Anders to check in, and she’d told him that she’d set up an appointment for him late this afternoon to speak with the powers that be to give his side. She’d also informed him that a doctor had interviewed Travis, and the kid had admitted he’d been off his meds for two months and had been lying to Dr. Guthrie about it. So even if Colby had asked him, he wouldn’t have gotten an accurate answer. Anders had said she thought that boded well for getting Colby cleared and back to work.

It’d been welcome news for sure. He’d gone over that session with Travis in his head again and again. And though he wished he could’ve done something to prevent what had happened, in his heart, he knew he hadn’t been negligent in Travis’s care. But he still couldn’t relax. Travis’s parents weren’t going to stop looking to place blame. And they had money to burn if they wanted to drag this thing out. But at least Rowan seemed to be in his corner, and he would get a chance to tell his side later today to the board. He just hoped that and the truth were enough.

Thinking about all his students being shuffled around and tossed onto Dr. Guthrie’s caseload made his stomach hurt. He’d made a promise to those kids. He was supposed to be the one who was there for them when they needed it. He’d promised Katelyn Bowie that he’d teach her relaxation exercises so that she could calm down before her big algebra test. That test had now come and gone. And he’d finally gotten Jake Latham, after months of near-silent sessions, to start talking about his mother’s death. Now the kid would have to start over again with Guthrie.

It was fucking brutal being stuck at home, doing goddamned nothing, when he could be working with those kids. By seven, Colby had whipped himself up into a restless, angry state just thinking about it. So he’d turned to his first method of stress relief—music. He’d locked himself in his office and had managed to bang out a chorus for a song he’d been working on.

But even after all the creative effort, he’d still felt wired and restless. He’d gone downstairs to see if Keats needed anything, but Keats had already left to run an errand for Georgia. So he’d decided to go to his surefire method of clearing his head—exorcism by exercise. Most people who saw him probably assumed he was obsessed with working out, but really, it was the only form of therapy besides music that had ever worked on him. So he’d gone for a long run and was now well into his weights routine, dripping with sweat, but finally starting to feel a little more centered.

He had to keep reminding himself that things in his life had gotten complicated quickly, and his head was screwed up from all the rapid change. In the matter of a few days, his job had blown up, his neighbor had ended up in his bed, and his former student was back from the dead and all grown up. Even someone used to rolling with the punches couldn’t be expected to roll with all that.

At least not all of it was bad news.

Keats was here and safe. Sure, living with him was going to be . . . interesting. Colby’s wires were all kinds of crossed when it came to Keats, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t handle himself around him. He’d just need to set up some clear boundaries and stop doing stupid shit that blurred it—like letting Keats listen again last night. That’d been a lust-based decision, not a responsible one. Colby usually didn’t let his dick overtake his good sense. He wasn’t the guy who went off the rails with passion. Discipline and self-control were a bit of a religion for him. But the way Georgia and Keats had looked at each other last night when they’d walked into the kitchen had knocked Colby completely off track. He’d wanted things he shouldn’t.

Now he needed to get his bearings back. He’d set it all back to rights. He’d talk to Keats and establish some rules, apologize for last night. He’d enjoy his time with Georgia even if he knew it had an expiration date. Live for today, right? That’d always worked before.

He did a few more chin-ups, counting off, then dropped back to the ground. He grabbed a towel off the weight bench and mopped it over his face and chest, letting the fast-tempo music he’d put on beat through him. Finally, he could feel his mind settling a bit. But when he turned around, Keats was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame.

Colby threw the towel to the side and pulled his earbuds out. “Hey.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No problem.” Colby set his iPod to the side. “Were you able to get what you needed for Georgia?”

Keats stepped into the garage, looking around at the equipment as he did. “Yeah, just got back. She needed some boxes to ship books. I tried to get her to come with me, but she wasn’t ready.”

“Give her time.”

“I know. But it’s tough seeing anyone cooped up like that. It must feel like prison.” He tossed Colby the bottle of water he’d been holding.

“Thanks.” Colby caught it and twisted the cap off. “Yeah, it’s hard not to want to push.”

“I imagine it’s even harder for someone like you.”

Colby took a long swig of water. “Meaning?”

“You’re used to getting your way.”

Colby sniffed.

“She wouldn’t stay last night, huh?”

“Eavesdropping again?”

Keats gave him a come-on-now look. “Don’t pretend y’all didn’t want me to. You two were so noisy, they probably heard you across the street.”

Colby grimaced. “Sorry. Honestly. I’m sure that’s the last thing you needed when you’re still healing up and needing rest. I’m not used to worrying about having other people in the house. I’ll put on music next time.” He took another gulp of water, desperately wanting to change the subject. “Did you at least get some sleep after Georgia left?”

He shrugged. “Not much.”

Colby set the water aside and straddled the weight bench. “Are you in a lot of pain still?”

Keats grabbed the chin-up bar, his arms stretching out above his head. It raised the hem of his T-shirt, revealing how low-slung his jeans were and how dark the bruise on his side had gotten. Colby forced his focus upward.

“No, that’s not what kept me up, just couldn’t stop thinking.” He swung his body forward a bit, hanging from the bar like a lazy monkey.

The position had Colby imagining what Keats would look like if Colby cuffed those wrists to the metal rod and locked a spreader bar between Keats’s ankles, tugged down those jeans, leaving Keats helpless and on display. Colby’s cock twitched with awareness.
Fuck.
Even after a fantastic night with Georgia, his body still wanted to hop up and pant for one Adam Keats.

This was exactly why Colby had never tried to get married. He loved women, but he could never fully turn off one switch for the other. He was that annoying guy who perpetuated the unfair assumption that bisexuals couldn’t commit to one side long term.

Colby scooted backward, willing his dick to stand down so he could lie back and do a few bench presses, anything to get his eyes off Keats.

When he was sure his body was cooperating, he rolled down onto his back. Keats stepped behind the head of the bench and put his hands on the weight bar to spot Colby. He loomed over Colby now, his expression pensive. Colby lifted the bar and brought it down to his chest, trying to ignore how close Keats was. He closed his eyes and began to pump the weights. One.
Breathe.
Two.
Breathe.
Three.

“Thinking about what?” Colby asked finally. It was easier now that he wasn’t looking at him.

“All the stuff you told me the other night. And all the stuff I heard last night.”

“Mmm,” Colby said noncommittally. Four. Five. Six.

He could hear Keats shifting behind him. Breathing a little too quickly. He smelled like the Irish Spring soap Colby kept in the guest bathroom.

“I want to know what I am,” Keats said after a long pause.

The bar slipped a bit in Colby’s hands, and Keats reached out to grab it and take some of the weight. Colby pressed his teeth together and pushed the weights back into the holder. He couldn’t have this type of conversation on his back with a couple hundred pounds hanging over him. He slid forward and sat up to face Keats, who was managing to keep his expression entirely impassive.

“You mean the submissive thing?”

“I mean all of it.”

All of it. Colby could take that a hundred different ways. He grabbed the towel again to give his hands something to do. He could feel Keats’s gaze on him. “You’re going to have to be more specific than that.”

“The other night you said you couldn’t really know until you tried it.”

Colby scrubbed the towel through his damp hair. “I did.”

“Are you working at that place this weekend?”

Scrub, scrub, scrub. “Haven’t decided yet.”

“If you do, can I go?”

Colby dropped the towel and stood. “Nope.”

“What?” Keats asked, stepping around the bench. “Why the hell not?”

Colby headed toward the kitchen, the garage feeling too small all of a sudden, the air too thick, but Keats followed. “Because unless you have a dom who’s a member to get you in, it’s ten grand to join.”

“Fuck. Ten grand?
Jesus
,” he said, sounding awed. “But you’re a member and an employee. Couldn’t you get me in?”

Colby yanked the fridge handle so hard, he rattled all the condiments and knocked over a jar of olives. “Only if you were going in as
my
submissive.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh,” Colby said, pulling out a carton of yogurt and setting it on the counter. He bumped the fridge shut with his hip and tugged the dishwasher open to find a clean spoon, his back to Keats. He didn’t want to think about Keats like this. He didn’t want to imagine what he’d look like naked or chained down or taking the sting of a flogger. And he especially didn’t want to think of some stranger doing that to him. But guilt nipped at him. It’d taken balls for Keats to even bring this up. And God knows Colby had subjected him to an earful of shit over the past few days. If the guy really was curious about kink, he had the right to explore it. He sighed. “Look, if you really want to check some stuff out, there are a few local clubs that aren’t as exclusive. There’s a good dominatrix I know at the—”

A hand gripped Colby’s shoulder, and every muscle in his body went taut. He spun around and before he could process what was happening, Keats braced his hands on the counter on each side of Colby. “Would you do it if I said you could?”

“Do what?”

“Show me what it’s like. You, not some random person.”

Keats was too close and though Colby still had a few inches on him in height, he was not happy being in the less dominant position. He moved Keats’s arm aside and stepped around him. “No.”

“Why?” A hard, determined edge was creeping into Keats’s voice.

Colby groaned and raked a hand through his still-wet hair. “You don’t even know what you’re asking, what showing you would look like.”

“You said you don’t fuck your trainees.”

He scoffed. “You think that’s all there is to worry about? You want my hands on you, Keats?
Everywhere?
This isn’t goddamned guitar lessons.”

Keats was across the kitchen in three strides. Before Colby could even react, Keats grabbed Colby’s wrist and brought his hand right against the crotch of his jeans. He was hard beneath Colby’s palm. “I don’t fucking get this.” He shoved Colby’s hand away and stepped back, his neck shading pink even though his eyes were full of challenge. “I like women. In fact, I like
your
woman. Dudes don’t hit my radar. But when you say shit, that happens. And last night when I heard what I heard, I wanted to be part of it. The sound of you . . . hitting her turned me on. So if that’s the whole submissive thing, then I want to know.”

Colby blinked, startled into speechlessness for a moment.

“I hate feeling like this. Off balance. Confused. I feel like a goddamned teenager again when I’m around you. If I’m going to be staying here awhile, I don’t want to live like that. I need to get”—Keats waved his hand between them—“whatever is going on here figured out.”

Colby gripped the counter behind him, trying to will his body’s reaction into stoicism. “And you think I’m the person to help you figure this out?”

“This is hard enough to talk about already. I definitely don’t want to try shit with someone I don’t know. But look, I know you’ve got a good thing with Georgia, and I don’t want to mess that up because she’s great. And I don’t know, I mean, I don’t even know if you’re like . . . attracted to me or whatever needs to be there. I just—”

“That’s not the issue.”

Keats looked up. “Huh?”

“Attraction isn’t the issue,” he said simply.