Coming Home by Carson Lola

Author:Carson, Lola [Carson, Lola]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-08-18T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

“You want a beer or something?”

It’s awkward. It’s all too awkward. Adam’s stood in Dean’s hotel room looking as though he’d rather be anywhere else, his eyes flicking to the bed and to the door and this isn’t what Dean had in mind for them, for their first time—only time, perhaps—together again.

Adam shakes his head.

“Water, if you’ve got it,” he says, and Dean can hear the dry swallow clicking in his throat. “And a shower.” At Dean’s look of confusion, Adam adds, with visible embarrassment, “I’ve just had a blowjob off some random guy.”

It makes Dean’s stomach lurch, the memory of it, finding Adam like that in the alley. He’d known immediately that it was for his benefit, that Adam was making a point, but it didn’t make it any easier. Seeing Adam with another guy, no matter the circumstances, is never going to be something Dean can cope with. The only thing he’d been able to do was wade in and steal Adam’s attention.

He can still taste Adam’s come on his tongue, come he had licked out of another man’s mouth. It’s twisted, but he hadn’t been able to help himself. The bone-deep desire to taste Adam again, whatever the method. That same obsession still running through his veins.

He opens the mini fridge and retrieves a bottle of water, holds it out for Adam.

“Bathroom’s there. Towels on the shelf.”

“Thanks.” Adam takes the water into the bathroom, closes the door behind himself, leaving Dean alone and unsure.

Their first time after all these years is supposed to be special. But this feels dark, messy. This feels like Adam’s operating on hateful desperation.

Dean’s not going to be able to go through with it, not if it’s like this.

But he’s got Adam here now, the two of them alone, and that’s something. It’s a start, and maybe he can build on it—maybe there’s some hope, if he plays this right. The possibility that Adam might thaw a little, show a little of his true feelings—Dean doesn’t know what those feelings are, but anything would be better than this cold detachment. He’s seen glimmers of something else, heat and passion in their argument, a warm glint in his eye as they talked. He knows there’s something there. That his efforts here aren’t completely futile.

Adam comes out of the bathroom as Dean’s perusing the room service menu. He’s wearing a towel slung low on his hips and Dean tries not to look, tries to stay composed long enough for Adam to realise there’s more to his desires than just sex, the physical act of sating lust.

“If you’re hungry I could order some room—what are you doing?”

Adam’s approached him—marched straight across the room with determination etched all over his face. And he’s gone directly for Dean’s belt.

Dean jerks his hips back out of reach, heartbeat kicking up a gear.

“This isn’t a date, Dean,” Adam mumbles, distracted, looking as though he’s barely aware of his own words. He steps forward again, starts tugging on Dean’s shirt buttons.

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