Nothing Between Us (18 page)

Keats swallowed. “Oh.”

“But you’re young and inexperienced when it comes to kink, and you’ve never been with a guy. Yes, I’m a trainer. But this wouldn’t be splashing around in the shallow end, Keats. Don’t trick yourself into thinking this would be some sterile business arrangement. Even if I never fucked you, it’d be an inherently intimate and sexual dynamic.”

“Is that always the case?” he asked. “With everyone you train?”

“No. But it would be with you. I know myself well enough to know I’m not capable of treating you like one of my paying students. And I’m not sure you’re ready for what submitting to me really entails or if you’re even capable of it.”

Keats’s throat bobbed.

“The fact that you get turned on around me may simply be you responding to dominance. Maybe that’s what it always was. You said you’ve never been attracted to other guys. What happens when I put you on your knees and tell you to suck my cock? Or tie you down and slide a plug in your ass?”

Keats laced his hands behind his neck as a little flash of panic crossed his face, confirming Colby’s fears. “I—”

Colby moved forward and put a hand on Keats’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze and trying to hide the twinge of disappointment that he was right. “There are wonderful female dommes I trust who I could introduce you to. It doesn’t have to be me. Maybe it’s best it isn’t.”

Keats lifted his head, and Colby started to step away. But before he could, Keats locked a firm grip on Colby’s hip and stepped into his space.

“What are—”

Keats’s mouth was on his in the span between blinks. Colby froze for a second, completely unaccustomed to someone else making the first move. People didn’t put their hands on him without permission. But after the initial rush of shock, his lips responded before his brain caught up.

Keats wasn’t tentative or careful. The kiss was hot and hungry and the grip on Colby’s bare waist, hard. If Keats was scared, he wasn’t showing it. Lips parted and Keats’s tongue slipped into Colby’s mouth, eliciting an unintentional groan from Colby. His hand drifted from Keats’s shoulder to lock around the base of his neck, taking back some control. Hard against hard met in the quiet of the kitchen, Colby’s still-sweaty chest mashing against Keats’s T-shirt. As the kiss deepened, Colby’s cock begin to stiffen, his length pressing against the ridge in Keats’s jeans.

Now it was Keats’s turn to groan. His fingers dug into Colby’s skin like he couldn’t get close enough, like he wanted every part of them touching. Colby knew they should stop, figure out what the fuck was happening, but it all felt too good, too hot, too everything. There was such a rough hunger burning between them that if he let himself move, he worried that he might just strip Keats out of his clothes and fuck him across the countertop. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he didn’t trust himself.

But before he could get himself in trouble, a sound from the other side of the kitchen distracted them both. Keats stiffened against Colby, and they both jolted back from each other as if they’d been simultaneously cattle-prodded. Colby turned toward the side door. Through the glass, he could see Georgia standing there wide-eyed, her hand still poised for the knock she’d given the door.

“Fuck,” Keats said behind him.

Georgia turned on her heel, looking like she was going to head right back to her house.

“Shit.” Colby lurched forward, crossing the few steps to the door, and yanked it open. “Georgia, wait.”

She kept moving, her back to him, and waved a hand. “Um, no, that’s okay. I’ll leave you two alone. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Damn. Damn. Damn. Colby told Keats he’d be right back, then jogged to reach Georgia. He put a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, hold up.”

She stopped and turned to face him. She had her lips rolled inward and looked like a kid who’d gotten caught spying. “Really, it’s fine. I was only coming over because Keats left his phone at my place when he dropped off the boxes. But clearly, he doesn’t need it at the moment.”

Colby rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. God, he must look like a major asshole right now. They hadn’t made any exclusive arrangements, but they’d shared something special last night and today, he was . . . “Georgia, I’m sorry you had to see that, I—”

“I’m not,” she said, cutting him off with a little laugh. She handed Keats’s cell phone over to him. “That’s an image I’ll hold on to, thank you very much.”

He looked up, eyebrows raised. “What?”

Those full lips curved upward as her gaze traveled over his naked chest. “All that was missing were the sprinklers.”

“You’re not pissed?” he asked, staring at this strange creature who didn’t seem bothered he’d been locking lips with someone else. “Hurt?”

She sighed. “Look, I told you up front I didn’t want this thing between us to be serious. I didn’t ask for it to be exclusive. And yeah, if it had been someone I didn’t know kissing you, I’d probably be hurt, but I don’t know . . .” She gave a little shrug. “It’s Keats. I already could tell there was something there between you two, so it’s not a total shock that this could happen. And it’s not like I haven’t seen you with other people before, so maybe I’ve built up some immunity. Plus, well, you two look hot together.”

He crossed his arms. “Is that right?”

She poked him. “Now don’t go fishing for compliments.”

“Never.”

She gave him a
yeah, right
look but went on. “Look, I’m a grown woman who understands what casual means. I wasn’t putting up a front on that, secretly hoping you’d commit to me. But if you and Keats are going to pursue something more than that, then you just need to tell me. I know I’m leaving soon, and if this could be something real between you two, I can step aside. I don’t want to inter—”

“Wait, that’s not what I’m suggesting at all.”

She tucked her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, her head tilted and her halo of dark curly hair catching the sunlight. “No?”

“I mean, I’m not sure what all this is with Keats. It’s . . . I don’t know. Fuck.” He raked a hand through his hair, all the questions rushing to the surface now that his brain was catching up with what had happened in the kitchen. “Keats is confused and trying to figure things out. He kissed me, but that doesn’t mean anything. He’s trying things on for size, I guess.”

Georgia sniffed. “And starting with Extra Large. That looked like more than trying, Colby.”

It’d felt like more, too, but he wasn’t going to mark that down as truth yet. Keats could be in the house freaking the fuck out right now. “He thinks he could be submissive, so he wants me to show him some things. Training. That kiss . . . well, that just kind of happened. It’s complicated. But it doesn’t change how I feel about you. Last night was amazing, and there’s no way I’m ready to let you slip away from me so soon.”

“Wait, he thinks he’s
submissive
?” Her brown eyes went a little round at that. “Wow, that’s . . .”

“That’s what?” he asked, catching her change in tone.

She glanced toward the house. “That just gives me really, really impure thoughts. I mean, your dominance obviously works for me.
Really
works for me. But I won’t pretend that the thought of Keats going all slave boy isn’t ridiculously hot. Not that I’m totally stunned. He’s got that way about him, you know?”

Colby gave her a slow grin, her words tamping down some of his anxiety over the situation. “That look like he’d do everything possible to blow a lover’s mind?”

“God, yes, that one.”

Colby chuckled. “You’re a dirty girl, Ms. Delaune.”

“I am. It’s a new personality flaw, apparently. I think I caught it from you.”

Colby slipped an arm around her waist and drew her against him. “I like it. A lot.”

“Me, too.”

He leaned back a little, gazing down at her. “So we’re good? Please tell me we’re good, because last night was fantastic.”

“We’re good, big man.” She wrapped her arms around him. “And really, if it turns out to be more than a kiss with Keats, I’m okay with that.”

He smiled. “You know? I believe you on that. But I think it’s time to set up a few guidelines. Because even though we’re doing casual, I want you to know I’m not interested in bed-hopping all over the place. I take this seriously.”

“What kind of guidelines?” she asked, her head tipping to the side in that
oh, do tell
way that he found unbearably sexy.

“While we’re seeing each other, this doesn’t go beyond the three of us,” he said, the plan forming in his head as he spoke. “If I decide to train Keats—and that’s a big
if
, because God knows we have a lot to discuss before that’s even a possibility—you have my word that no one else is in my bed besides the two of you.”

“Okay,” she said slowly.

“And you give me your word on the same.”

“That I won’t see anyone else?”

“That you won’t sleep with anyone else besides me . . . or Keats.”

Her brows scrunched. “Keats? But that’s not—he’s going to be working for me and he’s twenty-three and—”

“And you’re attracted to each other and might have wanted to kiss each other last night and stuff could happen,” Colby finished. “I’m not saying it has to. That’s up to the two of you, but I’m letting you know that it’s fine if it does.”

She blinked, obviously stunned into silence.

He cupped her face and kissed her. “Deal?”

“I’m not going to fool around with Keats. He’s working for me.”

“Your call, gorgeous,” he said, not wanting to push her, but knowing that if Keats dialed up the charm, Georgia might find him hard to resist. Colby clearly wasn’t doing well with that particular temptation, and Keats had been anything but charming toward him. Plus, he had a feeling that Georgia had watched Colby’s threesomes with more than a passing interest.

She sighed. “You’ve got my head spinning, Colby Wilkes.”

“Good.” He tugged on one of her curls. “Come over for dinner tonight.”

“Don’t you think you and Keats need to talk this out? I’ll be in the way.”

He grimaced.

She poked him in the chest again. “Don’t be such a man. The guy just had his first boy-on-boy kiss. And you made out with your former student. That stuff needs to be discussed, or he’s going to end up running away again. He might be packing his bags already.”

Colby looked to the sky, feeling the weight of all of it. “I’ll handle it.”

Though he wasn’t sure what he was more afraid of finding once he got back to his house—Keats regretting the kiss and backtracking.

Or Keats not . . .

Keats was sitting on the living room couch with his head back and arm over his eyes when he heard Colby walk back in. He felt sick to his stomach and couldn’t stop bouncing his knee. It’d taken everything he had to sit here and not to jump on his bike and bail.

“You okay?” Colby asked, his deep voice uncharacteristically quiet.

Keats didn’t open his eyes. “Did I mess things up for you with Georgia?”

“No. Not at all.”

He lowered his arm at that. “You’re kidding, right?”

Colby leaned against the wall. He’d put on a shirt before coming in here. Maybe he’d wanted the protection since Keats had basically mauled him in the kitchen.

“She’s watched me through my bedroom window for a year. Seeing me with someone else wasn’t that shocking to her. And she’s been very up-front that she’s not looking for a serious relationship. So we’re good.”

Keats shook his head. “Even if she’s okay with you seeing other people, she doesn’t care that you’re bi? Doesn’t that freak women out?”

“Sure, it can freak some women out. A lot of women, actually. But Georgia already knew that about me. She thinks it’s kind of hot.”

Keats stared at him for a second, processing that. “Unbelievable. Where do you find women like her?”

“Next door, apparently.”

Keats snorted. “Lucky you.”

“Yes. Lucky. Georgia is a special woman with a very open mind. She’s not judging anybody. Including you.”

“Right.”

Quiet crept in between them even though their gazes held, and Keats’s stomach twisted again.

Colby rubbed a hand over the back of his head. “Well, if you’re all right, I need to grab a shower, so—”

“I’m really sorry about, you know, everything. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He wiped his damp palms on his jeans. “I
wasn’t
thinking.”

He’d never planned to kiss Colby. He’d only wanted to ask if he could go to the resort Colby worked for to figure shit out. But when he’d realized Colby was shutting him out, trying to set him up with some stranger, he’d reacted on instinct, wanting to show Colby he wasn’t scared. Keats had needed to know if the urges he was feeling were real. And unlike the last time he’d performed a sneak attack on his former teacher, this time he’d known what he was doing—at least in theory. Colby’s beard and the aggressive edge to the kiss had been an altogether different sensation than kissing the soft, pliant mouth of a woman, but the way Keats’s body had responded had been far too familiar.

And when he’d felt Colby get hard against his thigh, his thoughts had smashed into a ten-car pileup in his head. He’d never had the desire to touch any dick but his own until that moment. His hand had flexed, itching to slide between them and see what it’d be like to touch Colby that way. But chasing that desire was also a deep, cold fear of what was on the other side of that line. Was he really ready to go there? Kissing a guy, even touching one—those things he could probably write off as experimentation or misguided moments. But what Colby would want if Keats started something with him would leave no room for Keats to rationalize. He had no doubt who would be the one getting fucked in that scenario.

Visions of all those miserable years of torment in school flitted through his brain. The
Princess
nickname that had stuck after football camp, the rumors, the insults and digs hurled his way. The goddamned locker room.
Hey, Adam, what are you doing in here? The girls’ showers are that way. Hey, Adam, what’s it feel like to take it up the ass? Is that why you’re in private lessons with Mr. Wilkes? Does he tell you you’re pretty while you suck him off?

“You don’t have to apologize,” Colby said with a sigh as he moved closer. “I know what it’s like to be confused—about the things you like or don’t like, about the desires that flash through your mind, about all the outside consequences that are tied to those kinds of decisions.”

“Yeah, but you’re so . . . together and cool with it all. I don’t—”

Colby laughed and propped a hip on the arm of the love seat across from Keats. “You think being attracted to guys was a fun discovery for me? You think I’ve always been at peace with who I am?”

Keats shrugged, remembering Colby when he was his music teacher. The guy always seemed to be on an even keel despite living in a conservative town that was prone to judging him. “I don’t know, seems like you’re of the ‘haters gonna hate’ school of thought.”

“By the time we met, things were settling into place for me. You saw the
After
shot. But it took a while to get to that point. I grew up in a more backwoods town than you did and was an all-star offensive lineman on the football team. I had a girlfriend who I cared about, who everyone thought I’d marry after graduation. So getting a boner in the group showers because the quarterback had a nice ass was not on my high school bucket list. Add in all the other stuff—the sadistic fantasies, thoughts of bondage, you name it—and I thought I was about as fucked up as they come. I didn’t tell anyone how I was feeling. Not in high school and not afterward. Not even the guys in my band had a clue. Well, until the guitarist caught me in the tour bus screwing one of the roadies.”

Keats frowned. He’d known Colby had left a promising music career to go into teaching, but he’d never thought to wonder why. At seventeen, he’d been too concerned about his own crap. “Is that why you left the music scene?”

“Yes and no. I left because I was on a path to nowhere good. The other band members distanced themselves from me after they found out—like I was going to rape them in their sleep or something. They would’ve kicked me out if my voice hadn’t been what it was. Plus, I wrote most of the music. But the isolation had me drinking more and partying harder than I should. Then my dad died, my little brother got himself tossed in jail, and my mom needed me home to help out. Without another income, she was going to lose what little we had.”

Keats leaned back on the couch, running his hands over his face. “Jesus. So you just walked away from your dream?”

“I should’ve never been out on the road chasing it anyway. My family had next to nothing, and my brother was a handful. If I had stuck around and helped out sooner, maybe my dad wouldn’t have had so much stress on him. And maybe my brother wouldn’t be sitting in prison right now for armed robbery because I would’ve kicked his ass had I known what he was getting into. It was a one-in-a-million shot that I’d actually make money doing the music thing anyway.”

Keats watched Colby’s face for signs of regret, but all he saw was his regret over his family stuff, not walking away from the career. That he couldn’t understand. From what he knew, Colby had been closer to achieving that dream than he was letting on. He couldn’t imagine giving up the chance to play music for a living. “I’m not sure I could’ve been trusted to be so self-sacrificing. Didn’t you have a record deal?”

He gave a dismissive flick of his hand. “Yeah, with a small indie label out of Nashville. But I made the right choice for me. As much as I love music, I wasn’t happy in that lifestyle. I like performing and writing my songs, but all the shit that went along with it wasn’t my scene. My heart wasn’t in it. At the time I didn’t realize that, but when I got the job at Hickory Point, that was the first time I felt like I was where I was supposed to be. Teaching, mentoring, counseling—that’s what does it for me.”

“Whether it’s teaching someone how to survive high school or how to snap a whip?”

Dimples peeked out from behind the beard. “Yeah, I guess so. Though I won’t lie. The training I do at The Ranch has been more personal necessity than a career.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just because I’m comfortable with my tastes and preferences doesn’t mean it’s easy. I can’t exactly go about my social life like a typical guy would. So The Ranch is where I find my friends, my lovers, a place where I know I won’t be looked at like an outsider.”

That sank in, and the nausea welled up in Keats again.
An outsider.
What he hated being most. He scraped his hand through his hair. “God, I don’t know if I could—”

“What are you more freaked-out about?” Colby asked gently. “The possibility that you’re bi or that you could be submissive?”

A headache was pounding behind Keats’s eyes. “All of it. One sounds as bad as the other. I can’t help but think that maybe all those assholes, including my father, were right about me after all.”

“What are you talking about?”

He shook his head, the past as vivid as a movie screen beneath his eyelids. “All those names they called me. Maybe I’m everything they said . . . fag, pussy, cocksu—”

“Shut your mouth with that shit, Keats,” Colby said, cutting him off.

Keats opened his eyes, finding Colby leaning forward, a scowl on his face.

“Your father was a small-minded prick with a God complex.” He stood and jabbed a finger his way. “And if I ever hear you use one of his words to describe yourself again, I will personally beat that notion out of you.”

Keats stilled, Colby’s palpable anger doing something to him.

“Are you going to call me those names?” Colby asked, holding out his arms, creating an impressive wingspan. “Because they’d apply to me, too. You think if I got on my knees right now and sucked you off, it’d make me less of a man?”

Keats swallowed hard, the image almost too intense to wrap his mind around. Though, even with his head whirling, his body registered the fantasy, blood rushing south. “No, but you don’t do that.”

Colby scoffed. “You think because I top I don’t give head?”

Keats’s neck heated. He hated being the one in the dark. He pushed up from the couch and moved past Colby, ready to escape to his room. “Look, I guess I don’t know how it all works. If I did, I wouldn’t have asked to go to that damn resort.”

He headed toward the hallway to put his back to Colby as quickly as possible. His cock was rebelling despite his mental protests for it to behave, and the last thing he needed was to embarrass himself even more.

“Keats, stop where you’re at.”

He halted, the response automatic, but he wasn’t sure why he was doing it.

“I need you to hear this. What I said didn’t come out right. I’m not making fun of you. Of course you don’t know how it works because you’ve never done any of it. You don’t have to be afraid to ask me any kind of question. I’ll answer it.” He let out a long breath. “Or . . .”

Footsteps sounded behind him. Keats stared down at the ground in front of him, his heart beating hard in his chest as Colby stopped right behind him.

“Or I’ll show you. If that’s what you want,” Colby finished.

Keats closed his eyes, some weird combination of panic and anticipation welling in him. But he didn’t dare move.

“Is it what you want?” Colby asked, his voice barely audible.

I don’t know.
The words hovered in Keats’s head but wouldn’t move past his lips.
Maybe. Yes . . .

Long, silent seconds stretched, and when Keats didn’t move away, Colby seemed to take that as an answer.

“Lace your fingers behind your head and keep them that way unless I tell you otherwise,” Colby said, the undercurrent of authority that always lingered in his voice brimming to the surface. “You want this to stop, you say
red
. Do you understand?”

Keats was convinced his heart was about to jump out of his mouth and onto the floor. He managed a nod.

“No, I need to hear you say you understand.”

Keats forced his tongue to work. “I understand.
Red
makes it stop.”

“Put your back against the wall.”

Keats felt himself going into some strange version of autopilot. He closed his eyes and turned, pressing his back against the wall across from the doorway to Colby’s bedroom.

“First,” Colby said, his voice close, “does this position cause any pain in your ribs?”

Mentally, Keats did a quick scan of his injuries. He was sore everywhere still, but having his hands behind his head didn’t make anything hurt worse. “No.”

“Good. I’m going to take a shower,” he said, catching Keats off guard. “This isn’t a decision to make on impulse or because your dick is hard. If you’re still here in this position when I get back, I’ll give you your first lesson. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Keats said, his throat trying to close.

“And Keats,” Colby said, so close to Keats’s ear that he startled. “Know that if you’re still here when I get back, I’m not going to let you keep your eyes closed. You won’t be able to get away with pretending it’s some girl touching you.”

“You’re trying to freak me out,” he said, finally managing to open his eyes.

Colby’s mouth went lopsided, but there was wicked intent lingering in his eyes. “First thing to learn, Keats, what gets me off is not about fucking someone’s body, though that’s a nice part of it. If you want this, know that my end goal isn’t to get in your pants.” He pressed his fingertip to Keats’s brow then tapped. “It’s to get in here and fuck you from the inside out.”

With that, he patted Keats’s cheek and went into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him and leaving Keats standing there in the hallway.

And for the first time, Keats was truly terrified.

Giving up his body in a new way he could probably handle. It was just sex after all—gay, straight, or in between. Bodies on bodies. Physical release.

But letting someone in his head . . .

He lowered his arms to his side and did what he did best—he bailed.