Violated (3 page)

D
EREK
HAD
been unprepared for the sight of Russ sitting in his kitchen, and equally unprepared for the surge of warmth it stirred in him. It had been beyond his control. The man was handsome, and he’d been very pleasant when they first met. It wasn’t Derek’s fault if he pushed a few buttons. Certainly it wasn’t even remotely close to infidelity. But still Derek felt guilty. And he couldn’t escape the feeling he’d been set up—that Tim had been watching for his reaction when he stepped inside the cabin and saw their guest.

He’d clamped down on his expression as quickly as he could. But there was that nagging worry in the back of his mind—had Tim seen something to feed his jealousy? There was no way of telling at the moment. He’d find out later, when the two of them were alone.

Dammit! I fucking hate this shit
.

“Hi, sweetie,” Tim said sweetly. “Look who stopped by!”

“Hey. Uh… I’m sorry. What was your name again?” The name fumble was bullshit. Derek hadn’t forgotten his name.

“Russ.”

“I’m Derek.”

Tim pulled Saran wrap off some bowls he had on the bar. “I hope it’s okay, but I invited Russ to have dinner with us.”

“Sure. No problem.” Derek realized he still had the door open, so he closed it. Max had been straining against Russ’s grasp, whimpering in frustration. He chose that moment to wrench himself free and barrel across the room. Derek welcomed the interruption, laughing and crouching down to scratch Max’s ruff. “I remember you, Max! How could I forget?”

Max barked joyfully in response.

If Russ was offended that Derek had forgotten his name, he didn’t show it. He got up and hurried over to regain control of his dog, giving Derek an embarrassed smile. “Yeah, Max is kind of… unique.”

Unfortunately that put Russ in close proximity, which Derek wanted to avoid if he could. The spice of Russ’s cologne mixed with just a hint of sweat tantalized his nostrils and made him want to breathe in deeply, but he resisted. He realized he hadn’t yet kissed Tim, so he quickly straightened up again and walked over to the kitchenette. He pulled Tim in for a kiss full on the mouth. Tim giggled and acted embarrassed to be doing that in front of company, but Derek knew he wasn’t really. He liked having his place as Derek’s lover reaffirmed publicly.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Derek asked when he broke the kiss.

“You can take the chicken out to the grill. It’s marinating in a pan in the refrigerator.”

O
NCE
D
EREK
was there, Russ found the evening to be pleasant enough, though he sensed a certain amount of tension between his hosts. Was it because he was there? His original assessment, that first day on the deck, had been that Tim was the jealous type. He’d seemed okay tonight, at first. But now, underneath the smiles and jokes, Russ sensed something territorial. It was there in the way Tim insinuated himself between Russ and Derek. Nothing overt—just a comment or a joke, or asking if anyone wanted another drink, or bustling around cleaning up, whenever Russ and Derek got too friendly.

The food was terrific. Tim had made a three-bean salad, along with a Greek salad, grilled some string beans and summer squash, and baked a corn and cheese casserole that was absolutely delicious. Marinated in brown sugar, soy sauce, sesame oil, and God knew what else, the chicken was amazingly tender and juicy.

But there were a lot of awkward silences. Russ half wished he’d stayed home.

He could tell Derek wasn’t too pleased either. His mood gradually darkened as the evening wore on, until he was sitting in a deck chair, sipping a beer and barely speaking. At last, when they’d finished dessert—a heavenly peach sorbet Tim said he’d prepared earlier in the week and transported to the cabin in a cooler that morning—Russ saw his opportunity to escape.

“This was all fantastic,” he said, standing up, “but it’s getting kind of late….”

Derek perked up at that. He stood and gave Russ a look that seemed apologetic. “It was good to see you again, Russ.” He began to lift his right arm as if to shake hands, then seemed to think better of it. He nodded instead.

Jesus Christ
.

Russ had intended to invite them over to his place for the holiday tomorrow, but now he thought better of it. The last thing he needed was more time in the middle of this little family drama. He’d be better off by himself with a six-pack.

He nodded at Tim, who was perched on a bar stool he’d brought out on the deck, still spooning up the last of his ice cream. “Thanks for having me over. You’re a great cook.”

Tim beamed at him. “Thank you. Anytime.”

Yeah
, Russ thought.
Sure
.

A
S
IF
the dinner last night hadn’t been humiliating enough, Victor showing up at breakfast was enough to make Derek want to jump off their short pier. It wasn’t that he minded seeing Victor—they’d been best friends since middle school, and they’d worked together for over a decade. Victor got Derek his job, in fact. But Victor was six-foot-four and built like a quarterback. He was straight, nuts about football, and spent most of his free time at the gym. He and Tim were about as opposite as it was possible for them to be. Victor had spent most of his high school years being a dick to guys like Tim, and Tim knew it. They could barely stand each other.

The moment Derek heard the truck pulling into the driveway, he jumped up from his bar stool and peered out the window. “
Fuck
. It’s Victor.”

“Do you intend to get dressed,” Tim asked, “or just lie down on the floor with your legs spread?”

Derek was stark naked, since he slept that way and hadn’t expected company this early in the day. He gave Tim a sour look and went into the bedroom to throw on some shorts. He didn’t bother with a shirt. He was just coming back out into the main room when Victor rapped on the screen door with his ham-hock fists, causing it to rattle in its frame. The man didn’t bother waiting for an answer, but let himself in. “Yo! Who wants a brewski?” He held up a six-pack in one hand.

“At ten in the morning?” Tim muttered under his breath. He was in a T-shirt and boxers, sitting at the bar, and apparently hadn’t considered Victor worth covering up for. Not that Victor gave a fuck what other guys wore around him. He and Derek saw each other naked on a daily basis in the company locker room—something Derek generally didn’t remind Tim of.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Derek asked breathlessly, zipping up his fly. His tone was light—he and Victor always swore at each other.

“Dude! Am I in time for breakfast?”

T
IM
AND
Derek had barely said two words to each other that morning, still irritated with each other over Russ’s visit. Derek knew the whole evening had been a test. Not that Derek had done anything wrong. But Tim had been
waiting
for him to look at Russ the wrong way or accidentally touch him when he was handing him a plate of corn casserole. It was so fucking juvenile.

Victor visiting wasn’t likely to improve Tim’s mood, but the mention of breakfast forced his host instincts to kick in. He got up and fixed Victor a large omelet, bacon, and buttered toast. Then he even offered him coffee.

“Thanks,” Victor said, settling his muscular bulk on the barstool Derek had vacated. It creaked ominously under his weight. “But I already had coffee. I’ll just have a beer.”

Tim opened a drawer and withdrew a bottle opener, but tossed it back when Victor casually opened the bottle with his teeth. Tim shut the drawer and muttered, “My life has become a reality TV show.”

“So anyway,” Victor said, ignoring him, “I came out here for two reasons. One—to check out the new place. Two—I wanna watch two gay guys get it on to see if it excites me.”

That was Victor’s idea of humor. When they were alone together, Derek didn’t care. He just ignored it when Victor was a pig. Sometimes he even laughed. But Jesus! Not in front of Tim, for fuck’s sake! Tim’s mouth hung open as if he were standing on the sidewalk watching a three-car collision.

“Fuck you, Victor,” Derek groaned.

Victor hooted hysterically at his crass joke, and once he’d settled down, he took a swig of his beer. “Just kidding. Jack wants me to take a trip down to Florida next weekend.” Jack was the VP of their department, and he’d been in Victor’s hair ever since Top Circle acquired a smaller security company down in Tampa.

“So?”

“I want you to come with me.”

“Why?”

As if somebody had flicked a switch, Victor transformed from a crude frat boy into the manager of a fifty-man corporate IS department. “Because you’re the team lead for tech support, and we’re going to be evaluating how their support team conducts their operation, that’s why. Jack’s a fuckin’ cheapskate, but he’s willing to pay for two people to go down, and you’re my best choice.”

“That sounds… tedious.”

“I figure if I have to suffer, you can too. We’ll have to share a room, though.”

“How romantic,” Tim said sarcastically.

Derek gritted his teeth at that, but let it go. The idea that Tim was jealous of Victor was beyond ludicrous. Perhaps that was why Derek said “No problem” without hesitation—just for the dubious pleasure of watching Tim’s nostrils flare.

“Great!” Victor said, taking a mouthful of omelet. He acted oblivious to the tension between his hosts, but Derek doubted he was that clueless. Victor hadn’t become a manager at Top Circle by being an idiot. He often bided his time and observed before acting.

Tim shoved the frying pan under the tap, muttering, “Not that my opinion matters at all.”

“It’s my
job
,” Derek snapped. “Did we have plans for next weekend I’ve forgotten about?”

“I thought you wanted to fix the cabin up?”

“There’s no deadline on that. We have all summer.”

“Well, never mind, then.” Tim tossed the pan into the sink, causing greasy water to splash up on the counter. It was an indication of how pissed off he was that he didn’t bother to wipe it up. He shut the tap off and stormed out of the room. A second later the bedroom door slammed shut.

Derek groaned and rubbed his temples. He knew Tim wanted him to chase after him, beg his forgiveness. But Derek just couldn’t. Not right now. He was too pissed off himself.

“Dude,” Victor began. But if he had anything to add to that, he appeared to think better of it.

Things hadn’t always been like this. Before they’d moved in together, Tim had been…
sane
.

“Come on.” Derek took a beer from the six-pack Victor had set on the bar. “Grab your plate and let’s go out on the deck.”

A
T
SOME
point, while Derek and Victor were sitting out on the deck with Gracie sleeping peacefully between them, the front door slammed. A moment later, Tim’s car pulled out of the driveway. Derek let him go, resisting the urge to call him on his cell. He wasn’t sure if Tim would come back to the cabin or go back to the condo in Portsmouth, but right now, it was clear they both needed some space.

“See,” Victor said wryly, “this is why I’m single and happy to stay that way.”

“I thought it was because you smell like ass.” He was only partly kidding. Victor always wore this god-awful cologne that smelled like musk and car leather—or so the label claimed. To Derek it smelled more like a sweaty leather jacket.

“That too.”

They drank in silence for a while, watching sailboats skim along the glassy surface of the lake and hearing the occasional firecrackers from one of the cabins. Derek couldn’t think of anything to talk about. When it came right down to it, he didn’t have much in common with Victor outside of work and the gym. They never had, even in high school. Except they both liked football. And it didn’t take much to keep Victor happy as long as the beer was flowing.

“He’s just jealous ’cause you’re better-looking than him,” Victor said, seemingly out of the blue.

The comment made Derek uncomfortable, as if Victor was coming on to him or something. He shoved the thought from his mind. It was ridiculous. Victor had only one standard by which he measured men—muscle. Derek didn’t like to go overboard with his workouts. He was shooting for trim and well-defined—
manly
—rather than the beefy look Victor maintained. By contrast, Tim was thin and wouldn’t be caught dead in a gym, and that made Derek “better-looking” in Victor’s estimation.

“Tim is good-looking,” Derek said loyally. “Just not buff.”

Victor snorted to show his contempt for any definition of “good-looking” that didn’t include “buff.” But Derek liked Tim’s reedy, college-boy body. Tim had graduated years ago, but he still had that aura of the college intellectual about him, and Derek thought smart people were incredibly hot.

Of course, Victor had beaten up guys like Tim in high school. At one time, before he threw himself into working out in middle school, Derek had drawn the unwanted attention of Victor and some of his friends. But he’d pumped up and won their respect. They hadn’t been so bad—even when he came out after high school—as long as Derek still looked and acted like… well, like a
guy
. Tim would never have been able to do that. That was fine with Derek. He even found Tim’s delicate nature sexy. Victor had outgrown physically picking on guys like Tim, largely because of Derek’s influence, but asking him and Tim to actually
like
each other was expecting too much.

Derek knew Victor was kind of a jerk. On the other hand, Victor rarely insulted Tim directly, whereas Tim had no problem whatsoever making snide comments about Victor. It was Tim who kept trying to force Derek to take sides in some kind of weird competition. He wanted Derek to focus all his attention on him. Derek loved the guy, but his constant jealousy was wearing.