Open Seating (14 page)

“Well,” Matt said, laughing. “I can assure you we’re not stalking him. We didn’t even know he was a writer until the Donovans mentioned it on our way out.”

“Good to know.” Bryce put his arm over Seth’s shoulder and drew him closer. “Ready to go to bed?”

The flush on Seth’s cheeks was endearing, and Bryce couldn’t help smiling at the disappointment on Matt’s face.

“See you folks later,” Bryce said, guiding Seth away from the pair.

“Oh my God, Bryce. I didn’t realize you could be such a good liar.” Seth snickered. “What in hell was that all about?”

“Just keeping the predators away.”

“Oh please. The guy is married, although it sure feels like they’re up to something.”

“I wouldn’t put it past the old bag to use him as a lure.”

“Funny you should say that,” Seth said. “I felt that vibe at dinner.”

“So you’re not that clueless?”

“I try and give people the benefit of the doubt, but these two are definitely weird.”

“Didn’t someone say they owned a B and B?”

“And your point is?”

“It would be a coup to have a famous writer eating at their table,” Bryce said. “There are a zillion places in Cape Cod to choose from, and keeping their establishment in the black must be a chore. Their system involves aggressively pursuing new and interesting clientele.”

“You give me way too much credit. I’m no Hemingway.”

“No. You’re better-looking and not an alcoholic, thank Christ.”

“Not all writers are drunks,” Seth pointed out.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“So,” Seth said, looking at him with those engaging eyes that, once again, reminded Bryce of a poodle. “Are you going to keep up this partner charade? Once you start lying, it can get convoluted if we don’t have our stories straight.”

“I’ve got no problems with it. Do you?”

“What if you meet someone you want to hook up with?”

“I already have.”

Glancing around, Seth scanned the crowd. Stymied, he turned back to Bryce. “Who are you talking about?”

Chuckling, Bruce shook his head. “You’re so clueless it’s fucking adorable.”

“Excuse me?” Seth asked, looking surprised.

“I meant you!”

“Oh. Really? You want to hook up with me?”

“Didn’t I prove that in the restroom?”

“I… wasn’t sure…. You want…. Really?”

“Come on,” Bryce said. “It’s time we had a little chat in private.”

They made their way to the elevator and, exiting on their floor, walked down the long corridor to their cabin, which was located in the middle of the ship. While they were at dinner, the cabin boy had straightened the mess, removing the anniversary banner and balloons, and left a set of fresh champagne flutes, along with a new bottle and a basket of fresh fruit, as well as some shell-shaped Belgian chocolate. There was an apology note from the concierge, which went a long way to placate Seth. Their queen bed had been turned down, and there was a fanciful figure of an elephant made with several twisted white washcloths, and two squares of gold-foiled chocolate. This ritual was a nightly occurrence, supposedly, and the terry cloth animals a source of pride with the cabin boys. Classes were given in the fine art of towel twisting so passengers could also learn to create the unique art pieces, enhancing the once-in-a-lifetime experience for anyone sailing their ship.

Seth picked up the elephant and was charmed. “Isn’t this clever.”

“Cute,” Bryce replied, staring at Seth, who was looking more and more uncomfortable. “What’s the matter?”

“I guess we should have requested twin beds,” Seth said, “when we were downstairs ranting at the concierge about the banner.”

“It crossed my mind, but I don’t think it matters at this point.”

“You don’t have any problems sharing a bed?”

“Only if you hog the sheets,” Bryce teased.

“Mark never complained.”

“Then it’s not an issue.”

Seth perched on the end of the bed looking like he wanted to bolt.

Feeling sorry for him, Bryce asked, “Do you need some booze to get through this conversation?”

“Probably won’t hurt.”

Bryce got busy with the cork and pouring the bubbly. He handed Seth his flute and toasted him, “To a memorable vacation.”

“Right,” Seth replied, drinking the contents in two gulps.

“Whoa.” Bryce took away the now-empty flute. “You’re acting like a man on death row.”

“I’m just nervous,” Seth said.

“Why?” Bryce asked as he poured Seth another glass.

“I dated a bit before Mark and I got together, but nothing major occurred, and it has been twenty years. Since I married Mark, there’s been no one.”

“We don’t have to do anything tonight except sleep,” Bryce assured him.

“Are you sure? I feel like a selfish prick for leaving you hanging.”

“I told you it was okay earlier, and I haven’t changed my mind. Whatever else happens between us should come naturally.”

“All my preconceived notions about you were wrong,” Seth admitted. “I was sure you were a major horndog who would fuck his way across the UK.”

Bryce laughed. “That was the plan originally, but then something happened between us that I can’t really explain. It made me realize that the guy I’d rather hook up with is sitting right in front of me.”

“Why me?” Seth asked. “I’m not young or experienced the way you like them. You’ve called me a dork on several occasions, and I’ll be the first to admit you’re right. I don’t know anything about hooking up.”

“And this is the part that confuses me,” Bryce said. “You
aren’t
my type, and yet… I’m drawn to you. I’d love to show you what you’ve missed all those years before you and Mark became partners, but we need to make one thing clear. At the end of this voyage, there won’t be any proposals. I’m not the marrying kind, Seth. You need to accept that, or there won’t be any hooking up. I can’t deal with tears and drama.”

“Right.” Seth bobbed his head. “No drama, zero expectations.”

“Are we good?” Bryce asked.

“I’d like to sleep on it,” Seth said. “If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” Bryce replied. “I’m beat and could use the rest.”

“You have had a wild couple of days,” Seth reminded him.

“I know. You want to use the bathroom first?”

“Sure.”

When Seth closed the bathroom door behind him, Bryce poured himself another glass of champagne. So far, things had gone much better than he expected. Seth hadn’t run off screaming into the night, and in fact, the guy had been honest to a fault. Bryce was surprised Seth had such little experience. His writing certainly belied the facts, but then again, the Internet could provide whatever information you needed, and anyone with a brain and imagination could put together an authentic sex scene. Nonetheless, experienced or not, Bryce was convinced Seth would be great in bed once the stigma of meaningless sex had been lifted. Now he had to stick to his side of the bargain and keep his hands off the guy until he made up his mind. It would go a long way to establishing trust. Their attraction would continue to flourish, and eventually, they’d succumb to the moment. Panic averted and any thoughts of a romantic entanglement junked in favor of raunchy sex.

SETH STARED
into the mirror, trying to find some semblance of the grieving man who’d left Chicago only a few days ago. On the surface, not much had changed. His hair was still blond, eyes brown, and his skin tone the same sickly ivory due to long hours spent indoors. His lips, however, were pink and puffy from toe-curling kisses, and he wondered how long they’d stay that way. Peering closer to inspect his neck, he could see several red marks. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out they were hickeys, and he flushed in embarrassment, recalling the way Matt had eyed them in the casino. A decent man didn’t go around proudly showing off love marks. It was no wonder Matt hit on him. Seth felt one spot gingerly and imagined seeing the same red marks on his inner thighs or close to his nipples. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to banish the stream of pornographic images, but realized it was futile. He was hard again, another shocker. At his age, once a night was all he’d been able to achieve with Mark, but here he stood, eager to go another round. He shook his head in dismay.

The assumption that he’d spend most of the cruise burdened by guilt over Mark’s death had been wiped out by one amazing blowjob. For all Seth’s preaching and eye-rolling over Bryce’s meaningless encounters, he was just as easily led astray by his raging hormones. Like a sex addict, he didn’t have the strength or willpower to push Bryce away.

What on earth did that say about the depth of his feelings for Mark? Tears flooded his eyes, and he blinked them away rapidly, hoping to stem the tide of sorrow and guilt that slammed into him with such force, he swayed and gripped the counter to keep from falling. Mark would have been bitterly disappointed to know he was so forgettable after twenty good years of partnership. But wasn’t this what he wanted in a way? For Seth to carry on without missing a beat?

Mark had chosen to keep him in the dark, arbitrarily deciding that Seth was incapable of handling his care, and more importantly, when Mark’s quality of life eventually dipped below the acceptable scale, Mark figured Seth would remain adamant in his opinion regarding physician-assisted suicide. Didn’t Mark know that the arguments they’d had on the subject were simply entertaining bouts of verbal sparring? Seth would have gone against his own principles if it meant easing Mark’s passing.

Dr. Mathers, the psychiatrist and grief counselor who’d seen him for a few sessions after Mark’s death, had assured him there was nothing he could have done to stop the progress of the disease, and yet, hearing the truth was no consolation. Seth’s gut kept telling him that he’d failed his husband in some way. Although it would have been devastating to hold Mark in his arms as he died, it was far worse knowing he’d been fast asleep and oblivious in Mark’s darkest hour.

And now he was compounding the betrayal by lusting after a man before his official mourning period was over. He’d expected to need a year to recover from the shock of Mark’s death, even longer to contemplate dating, yet here he was a few days shy of three weeks, and already eyeing another man. Perhaps he should have worn a black band around his arm, like the widowers in his novels, to remain in tune with his sorrow and keep Mark to the forefront of his mind. Instead, he walked around in colorful outfits that were out of fashion, if he went by Bryce’s well-meaning jibes, and daydreamed about a guy who espoused the sort of lifestyle Seth had always found reprehensible.

Never in his wildest dreams did he consider this scenario with Bryce. One minute they’d been bickering all the way to the airport, and now they were negotiating the start of a relationship that would be strictly sexual. Could he reconcile his conscience with his libido, which seemed to have been reborn in the last few days? Was it possible to have sex with someone daily—or hourly in this case—and not develop feelings? Bryce had made it quite clear that romance was off the table, a concept completely foreign to Seth. He was bound to develop feelings for someone who could bring him to sexual heights he’d only imagined. And if that were to happen, could he walk away with alacrity and not turn into a clinging vine? Bryce was sure he was incapable of such a thing, but Seth wasn’t. After all, the Seth who’d allowed himself to be dragged into that restroom and submitted willingly to Bryce’s touch wasn’t the same guy who’d boarded the plane at O’Hare. That Seth Wilder had faded away like one of Bram Stoker’s vampires, and in his place stood a new and improved model ready to step into the twenty-first century. Friendship with benefits. What a strange and challenging idea. He’d heard of it, written about it, but never thought he’d be capable of doing it. Could he? Would he?

Determined to get past his momentary lapse into self-pity, he washed his face with the fancy soap provided by the cruise line. Then he brushed his teeth—and tongue—anticipating more probing kisses. He didn’t feel like spending a lot of time on a shower, so he gave himself a French bath with a washcloth and basin filled with warm soapy water, like the whores in his novels. Hell, if it was good enough for a Parisian brothel, it would do fine in this scenario. Seth paused, wondering what else he should clean, not that he had any intention of allowing more than frottage. Penetration was off-limits for the foreseeable future. He’d have to be mighty drunk—and plenty in love—to give that up after all this time.

When he stepped out of the bathroom, Bryce was stretched out on top of the coverlet fast asleep. He was naked except for his boxer briefs, which were probably still in place for Seth’s sake.
Mustn’t freak out the roommate until decisions had been made.
Saliva pooled in Seth’s mouth as he zeroed in on the outline of Bryce’s thick cock resting against his stomach. Swirls of dark hair formed an enticing trail from his chest to his briefs, adding to the tempting visual. One arm was flung across the bed in a territorial move, and his other was draped across his flat stomach with the tip of his fingers underneath the elastic waistband. Had he been touching himself while Seth was in the bathroom?

He sighed, disappointed that Bryce hadn’t waited up. He dismissed that thought immediately, reminding himself that it was his choice to sleep on it and Bryce was only following instructions. Seth was certain Bryce could be persuaded into action with a little coaxing, but he didn’t want to appear too eager. A little mystery always made for a better plot, and he’d never cheated his readers by resorting to the predictable. Why should life be any different? He’d sleep on the decision as promised, and tomorrow, he’d surprise Bryce with a positive answer.

Seth pulled a soft T-shirt and pajama bottoms out of his suitcase. Unpacking as soon as he’d checked in would have been his normal meticulous pattern, but the unexpected anniversary greeting had thrown him off his game and folding his clothes into drawers had been the last thing on his mind. There’d be time enough tomorrow to attack this tedious chore.

He sat on the edge of the bed and switched off the lamp on the nightstand. The room was plunged into darkness, and it took a minute for his eyes to adjust. In retrospect, he realized it might have made sense to leave the bathroom light on. Crashing into pieces of furniture while trying to navigate the distance from bed to toilet was a distinct possibility and would be his own damn fault if it happened. Seth pondered his next move. How was he supposed to get into bed without disturbing Bryce?